Haiti, the home of voodoo practices
Seventeenth Century Spain cedes to France
Catholic Spaniards trembled when they saw
“Dead” men revived to wander in trances
A vile poison can make men appear dead
Revival requires an antidote
But perhaps there is more to zombie lore
An explanation to why these souls woke
Brutally treated slaves worked sugar fields
Captives from Africa known as “Maroons”
As French aristocrats sat and grew fat
Blacks sweated for “sweets” in the tropic sun
Buried guilt deep at night still festers
For conscience is God’s gift to each man
Some may suppress it for just a short time
‘Til magical night envelopes the land
Spirits of those who were taken in chains
Are given by God a chance to rebel
Stalking the living in deathly pallor
Haunting their captors with visions of hell
“Zombifications,” Maroons erected
Spreading the horrors of slavery with anger
Showing the French what their evil produced
And putting their sanity in danger
So please put the voodoo dolls back on shelves
The needle-sharp pricks of remorse can sting
Enslaved Maroons prevail in heaven’s court
Our Creator’s eyes aren’t missing a thing
Magic, black or white, God sees no color
Love is bestowed on men of all races
And those who question the Lord’s intentions
Should look in the eyes of living-dead faces
Professor Hapgood’s studies on ancient maps were fixed
Einstein said his theories should be added to history’s mix
Perhaps it proved too big a leap for other minds to take
But his ancient culture findings, Hapgood would not forsake
6000 BC, before Egypt’s pyramids were built
Millennia before Pompeii’s lava had been spilled
Or small fishing boats hugged the Mediterranean Coast
And Columbus’s “daring” voyage was not even close
Ancient seafarers drew with astounding accuracy
Maps of the world they once knew, the fishermen’s legacy
Antarctica sans ice and closer to the equator
The Mid-Atlantic Ridge once an above-sea sky scraper
Siberia touching Alaska with no Bering Strait
(Palin could have seen Russia without snow from her back gate)
Cuba, England, Sweden, too, on these maps appear clearly
But Sweden’s fully glacial; England’s blanket an ice sheet
If we believe Hapgood, a civilization once thrived
Thousands of years before language; maps keep memories alive
Technology to chart the seas was lost in ancient times
With latitude and longitude measurements quite refined
Sea kings’ cities may have succumbed during the last Ice Age
Surviving nations lost their skill when history turned a page
Geography to be found again when the Earth had healed
“Discoverers” reinvented the forgotten ship’s wheel
Magellan, perhaps not the first to sail around the globe
Admiral Byrd not the first man to visit the South Pole
Spirits from a colony of seafarers can be found
From deep beneath Antarctic ice, they try to spread the word
But laugh they must as scientists forecast global warming
And man attempts to alter life and heed their dire warning
Shifting poles? Natural cycles! Men would be well advised
To study the maps Hapgood found and open their closed minds
To learn more about Professor Charles Hapgood’s map studies and the comments made by
Albert Einstein, you can visit http://www.crystalinks.com/crustal.html.
French trader Tavernier in a greed-inspired way
Glared at an idol of a temple in Mandalay
Prying a gem from its eye socket, a curse prevailed
Tavernier died bankrupt soon after making the sale
Louis XIV bought the stone, 1668
A gift to his mistress, Louis had it cut heart-shape
For dabbling in Black Magic, this madam was burned
A century passed with the curse’s power unlearned
The diamond was then bestowed on Marie Antoinette
For wearing it with boastful pride, Marie lost her head
She lost respect from the commoners of her nation
This gem has since been linked to the French Revolution
Cut far smaller, the gem resurfaced, 1830
When a London banker bought the rock of infamy
Henry Thomas Hope survived; the curse appeared to break
For 70 years the Hope Diamond’s wrath lay in state
A Hope heir’s marriage collapsed; his wife evoked the curse
As she foretold, subsequent owners’ fates would be worse
French broker Jacques Colot went mad, suicide his road
Sultan “Abdul the Damned,” insane after being deposed
Then to an American the Hope Diamond was sold
Washington Post owner Maclean watched horrors unfold
Other household members died, but it was Maclean’s son
Ten years old, struck by a car, his Dad’s mind came undone
Ultra-light ray tests caused the mystery diamond to glow
With safety in mind, Hope’s eerie stone found a new home
It remained locked on display in the Smithsonian
Could it be to blame for all that’s wrong in Washington?
Tragedy also tied to raiders of King Tut’s tomb
Perhaps lessons can be gleaned from those who met their doom
Robbing temples, burial sites, outcomes always bad
Greedy souls’ quests for wealth can leave them totally mad
So don’t expect me to purchase a diamond in the rough
Considering this gem’s history, a sandstone’s quite enough
It's twelve days before Christmas, Love, and I am sitting here,
the hearth fire is burning bright, but on my cheek they're tears.
I hold the conch shell to my ear and call for you my dear.
Out across the briny deep a tempest cries beware.
The entry hall is full of garland, pine, spruce and mistletoe
The mirrors are all draped with ribbons, the brass all aglow
I hold the conch shell to me ear and stare out at the snow
remembering our last parting, I begged you not to go.
"Captain" said I "can you not see you take my heart from me?"
In his hand I placed a lock of hair, and a mustard seed.
He handed me a pearly conch shell from the Isle of Capri,
and bid me listen for his love song from the Southern Sea.
For twelve days, I've climbed stairs to the widows walk on high,
I clasp the token to my chest and search the sea near-by
So sad, yet sweet the mermaids sang, they of sailor's gone by.
They sang in sympathy, a song of longing with breathy sighs.
The cliff fires burn so bright now, he's coming on the tide.
The church bells are ringing now, soon they'll at anchor lie.
Had he heard me, had he called, had it been a dream I scryed?
T'was Christmas Eve and in the snow, he's landing with the tide.
So thick with rain,the rancid air
into the jungle pours.
Young soldiers with their feet on fire
keep on despite the sores.
This war is one that no one wants
and no one understands.
Young men and women give their lives
in these far Asian lands.
Back home these kids are shown disdain;
they're spit upon and worse.
When they come home from Viet Nam
in airports they are cursed.
A blight upon our history
was this long standing war.
But we should show the vets respect
for suffering they bore.
written by Deb Wilson
January 12th, 2013
for contest "Historical Modified Quatrain"
THE RESTLESS SEA
As dawn swept 'way the morning stars
A gloomy Helen glared
Poor Paris stood in silence-- watched--
He’d kiss her if he dared.
The sea was raging round their heads
The men rowed without cease
The lovers headed to their doom--
A myth is birthed in Greece
Ten thousand ships launch in pursuit
Rough soldiers flex their knees--
Today hunt thieves tomorrow queens--
Men do what kings will please
The soldiers puked and gambled hard
Twas boredom that they feared
A seasick trip was just a jaunt--
The Trojan shore appeared
The glory grew beyond Troy’s walls
The truth no one can trust….
Dark tragedy writ in the books--
Tis flung among the dust.
Thar was nae richt ae laddie sair
wha heft a cave 'side Galloway,
wi' nae jaiken he griftit dare
as he was nae tae lippen tae.
Ill-naitur'd fishwife he haud in wi',
the twa 'greed tae gang the'gither.
She haud her tryst, an' haud her wheesht,
his ill-duin vext her wi' nae dither.
Wi' dirk in hand at howe o' nicht
in fu' ambush thay lay waitin',
skilt o' fecht an' breukin' neck
grantin' flesh for desecratin'.
Than brochten hame an' ne'er spill
tae weil wi' kale an' roastit wean,
for Clootie's gut, ae meal an' yill
'afore wan cotchit Sawney Bean.
King James the fourth heard o't a'
an' sent oot four hunner men
tae scour the Heid an' gaither a'
o' Sawney's unco clan.
Tae Tolbooth Gaol, than aff tae Leith
whar nae mercy wad be seen
wi' sic brutality tae bequeath
at the quarterin' o' Sawney Bean.
Rough translation, not nearly as poetic!:
There was a crazy, angry man
who inhabited a cave near Galloway
with no skilled trade he dared to grift
and he was not to be trusted.
An ill-natured fishwife he gained in favor
and the two agreed to marry.
She kept her word and held her tongue,
his ill-doing did not bother her.
With dirk in hand at midnight
in full ambush they lay waiting,
skilled at fighting and breaking necks,
granted them flesh for desecration.
They brought it home with nothing wasted,
to mix with kale and roasted child.
For the devils gut, a meal and ale,
before the capture of Sawney Bean.
King James the fourth heard of it all
and sent out four hundred men
to scour the Head and gather all
of Sawney's notorious clan
To Tolbooth Jail, then off to Leith
Where no mercy would be seen
with such brutality to bequeath
at the quartering of Sawney Bean
nae richt- mentally unbalanced (literally 'not right')
heft- to settle or establish a dwelling place
nae jaiken- without a skilled trade or craft
griftit-to use dishonest or illegal methods for personal gain
nae tae lippen tae- not trustworthy
haud in wi'- obtained favor from
gang the'gither- unite as in marriage (literally 'go together')
haud her tryst- kept her word
haud her wheesht- kept her silence
ill-duin- wrong, perverse or ill-behavior (literally 'ill-doing')
howe o' nicht- midnight
Clootie- the Devil
ae meal an' yill-a traditional dish, served with whisky or ale, consumed at celebrations
unco- strange, notorious, extraordinary
quarterin'- punishment by severing the hands and feet (and usually genitals) resulting in a fatal loss of blood.
It was just another morning
when it started out that day
with all our plans and schedules
we hurried on our way
Then time stood still before us
as in our disbelief
we watched in silent horror
wrapped in sorrow, filled with grief
The tragedy unfolded
as the minutes passed us by
the minutes turned to hours
and we kept on asking why
We prayed to God in Heaven
as we faced so many fears
and paralyzed within our shock
we cried a million tears
As the sky was falling down
with eyes too blurred to see
we cried for every precious life
and for humanity
I know the earth kept turning
as the hours slipped away
but while our world was shattering
time stood still that day
Dedicated to all those whose lives were touched by that tragic day - 9/11/01
The GDR put up a wall
in ‘61 because
they wanted West Berlin kept out.
A wall of shame it was!
In fact, the West more easily
could travel all about
while Eastern Germans were the ones
from freedom routes locked out.
The wall was guarded. Some were killed
while struggling to flee.
The Cold War only made folks yearn
more strongly to be free.
To Gorbachev, one president
implored: Tear down that wall!
It wasn’t too much longer that
it would begin to fall!
I felt the joy they felt abroad
when crumbling had begun.
November ninth, in ‘89
Berlin again was one!
For the Historical Modified Quatrain Contest of craig cornish
Amidst these inlets and islands
Lies a land of a patriot nation
Where clans decree their might
Together in mixed relation
From the Lowlands to the Highlands
Family names of a forgotten past
Deliver us to their present
For these surnames are here to last
Sunrises and sunsets have so greeted
Many a morn and an eve has been seen
To be born into such a nation
Through their eyes, you see just your dream
For to be born on the land of the heather
Through Glens of bracken and fern's
Birthed into one of their clans
Your first breath you have duly earned
Amidst these inlets and islands
Lies a land of a patriot nation
Where clans decree their might
Welcome to Alba, the ultimate creation
A handsome man, a valiant son,
John Kennedy was he.
A man who rose to President
with civil rights the key.
Who can forget the many days
like Camelot they seemed,
when all eyes were on Washington,
they passed just like a dream.
Ah, we remember Jacqueline
a Vassar deb was she,
who walked with grace on his right side
through fame and infamy.
One thousand days was all we had
of this great President
before a gunshot took his life
for all the world to see.
We mourn him still, we miss his smile
his knowledge and his grit
for he and Martin dreamed a dream,
we reaped the best of it.
The pro-Hanoi Vietcong many years ago
In the 1950's Diem's government they'd overthrow
All opposition was crushed killed or jailed
These elected ones to their people they failed
This Buddhist country so religious in belief
Now politically torn apart, impending future grief
In the early 1960's with the CIA in place
Discussing with Vietnam's generals, Diem, assassinated in disgrace
With the Vietcong army, growing from strength to strength
Another communist foothold, going to any lengths
In 1965, with 3500 U.S. Marines in place
By December of that year, 200,000 in many a base
These U.S. Marines, in their defensive mode
Over the coming months, peace would soon erode
With the Tet Offensive upon us, and the "Battle of Hue"
The Americans were now involved, this bloody war now brews
One decision to end this conflict, came in 1969
Nixon sent 18 B-52s, bordering Soviet airspace line
He wanted to show he was capable, to end this bloody war
But as the months and years progressed, the body count would soar
The anti-war movement was gathering strength, also in 1969
But the "Green Beret Affair" started to undermine
A U.S. Army platoon raped and pillaged, the village of My Lai
Where civilians were massacred, and many left to die
In 1970-71, Cambodia incurred wars wrath
Where they and the country Laos, were in the U.S. bombing path
Also in 71, there was the cutting of the Ho Chi Minh trail
But arms and supplies got through, this mission to no avail
Later in the same year, the Anzac's withdrew their soldiers
The U.S. also reduced, many of theirs from Vietnam's borders
In 1973, Nixon declared the suspension of offensive action
The Paris Peace Accords took place, peace with this warring faction
Between the years 73 - 74 under Trà, the Vietcong grew in strength
There was no mass offensive, to lure the Americans to their trench
Gradually they marched to their target, to see their enemies eyes
To their city of Saigon, now over a million humans have died
The average age of the American to die in this bloody war
Was just nineteen years old, never knowing what they were fighting for
So many came home from this horror, leaving themselves behind
Because so many came home different, home with a different mind
Even to this day, many Americans look back and ask
Why their elected Congress, feed them to these tasks
The sad thing about Vietnam, it continues to this present day
Where governments make decisions, asking guns to hear their say
The Highlands, our Kingdom, our many Lochs and Glens
Our beauty woos fair maidens to be at the side of Highland men
Their futures to be part of our history, Queens to our many Clans
As we stand and salute the Saltire, by the side of their Highlander man
Such a Princess exists, in a far away land from the Scot's
To our shores we'll grace her beauty, once seen, forget me not
Onclaud, by the name Nette, shall stand by her Alba man
Upon a Ben she'll stand so proud, admiring the lands of her married Clan
She'll walk through purple heathers, thickened by natures sun
Amidst ferns and ancient bracken's by burns so crisp in run
By her side he stands this man, kilted displaying his kin
Claymore at the ready to grace his enemies skin
His Queen, their Kingdom, their Castle, resting on the shores of the River Ness
Overlooking forests and greens, salmon runs in richness finesse
When the night befalls these lands, in the Kingdom of the Lochs and Glens
It's understandable as to why they be wooed, by these historic Highlander men
My tale is from the time of Rome
Away across the sea
The tale of one called Jesus Christ
From distant Galilee
He placed Himself at God's command
Accepting all His will
Accomplishing the work of God
From Tyre to Olive's hill
He walked the streets and sailed the seas
He healed the blind and lame
Since Jesus came and changed the world
It's never been the same
He hung upon a cross of wood
To save from Adam's fate
He lived and worked among the poor
And died in low estate
He turned the world right upside-down
With nothing but His love
And now He watches us with care
From heaven's court above
-- Written 1/14/2013 --
Once again, the powers that must
In rise again in what we trust
An overseas conflict, another war
Just what in the hell are we fighting for
Families are asking, Korea has just passed
Generations again reft, how long will it last
A country in need, to rebuild again
Flags at half mast, in wind and rain strain
Once again into war, sent by the Washington Post
To send back reports to hit home the most
Military observers were the first to be sent in
Another chapter of man entering existing sin
I'm witnessing our ariel power, Lam Son 719
US planners determine their incursion, saying all will be fine
Along the Mekong River, we'll carpet bomb their supply trail
Tons of munitions and napalm, this spread surely cannot fail
Many sorties are being flown, for the wounded and the dead
Whilst Nixon and his cronies, aren't thinking with their heads
The news of losses has reached me, nineteen have been killed
Eleven missing, fifty nine wounded, more American blood spilled
Seven fixed wing aircraft, more sons in action loss
Whilst back at home more protests, fading the dyeing's gloss
To to this job that I do, I was never prepared for this
To witness such bloody scenes, and ignore that life is bliss
How can I write about a soldier, whose name I'll never know
Killed at nineteen years old, his family he'll never see grow
Or even explain to his parents, when carried from the AH-1
His body bullet riddled and limp, when lifted it bloodily run
I never went back to the theatre, called the Vietnam War
Having witnessed the wanton killing, what were we fighting for
This colonial conflict that started, us on the side of France
So many came back as strangers, many to live in trance
James Fraser's entry into the contest " WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM "
Lying still on the class room floor,
brown paper for a bottom sheet.
All the children were gathered round
and my outline was complete.
A cookie cutter girl was I
in bright black paten leather shoes;
with a gathered skirt, puffy blouse
of blue polka dotty hues.
Drawn silhouette, a paper doll,
not ashen as deaths cold harrow,
and I regret, my parents get
left Hiroshima's shadows.
Eight years gone the Rising Sun
was challenged in an earthy sky;
for bombs Little Boy and Fat Man fell
and two-hundred thousand people died
The Man of Steel, old Stalin
passed away in Russia this year;
the hot cold war was in full bloom
and our children hid in fear.
Beneath our desk tops we scrambled
as the shrill sirens shrieked away
the Committee of Five ruled Russia
and Khrushchev was on his way.
Dwight Ike was in the White House
as a veteran, he'd fought hard
the GI bill was now in affect
and bomb shelters filled our yards.
And little girls with ringlet curls
still made dollies on paper sheets;
while the doll shadows left by WWII
bombs blackened in Japan's streets.
*On August 6, 1945, the United States used a massive, atomic weapon against Hiroshima, Japan. This atomic bomb, the equivalent of 20,000 tons of TNT, flattened the city, killing tens of thousands of civilians. While Japan was still trying to comprehend this devastation three days later, the United States struck again, this time, on Nagasaki. Nagasaki was bombed on August 9, 1945 only three days after the bombing of Hiroshima. And we worry that other countries may develope atomic bombs???
Crimson mist in the Dallas sky,
a frantic wife's mad dash.
The world watched us as we cried
for hope gone in a flash.
Brilliant poet with timeless verse
and enduring message of peace.
A murderous fan fulfilled his curse.
Does lunacy ever cease?
Perfect day in the city
until the towers fell.
Religious zealots who had no pity.
Their resting place is hell.
So look at history if you can
and learn from such hindsight.
As long as evil has a plan
we must not quit the fight.
The poor girl is lost
Thinking she is found
Grasping other peoples answers
Straight lines going round and round
Light at end of tunnels
Leads her back to black
She can't keep moving forward
Without truly looking back
With butterfly wings
She flys like a moth
Attracted to pretty fabric
Instead of gold she looks for cloth
The wind seems to take her
From here to over there
Instead of finding her focus
She is the queen of everywhere
A can can dancer
With her two left feet
Yet completly off the beat
No one can help her
Her ears fully blocked
Sometimes people have their patterns
Within those lines they are locked
Who is actually out there
That the multitudes believe
What religion is really there
That they all see
How many are actually out there
That makes them all believe
What religions are actually out there
That they all see and believe
How do they know they are there
What have they seen that they believe
All their religions they say that are out there
That have never ever been seen
So many scripts and fables
Passed down through the times
Passages from village elders
Etched and changed their minds
Do believers look back even further
To well over two thousand years
When the village elders decided
To suppress, enhance their fears
Do believers go back even further
When the land produced their gods
Volcanoes, lightning and thunder
Became their staff, their rod
As I return from beyond the dark
On travels that you can't comprehend
Others actually know where you came from
If told would send you round the bend
All that you believe in
Was passed down through the years
The elders of human history
Suppressed you, to contain your fears
He was the bard from Stratford, and as a teenager
he helped his father in his trade; he married and had children
and became the most popular and admired play writer
in all England...acting was also his other pleasurable passion.
Curious Queen Elisabeth was one of the thousand spectators,
who came to see him in the Globe theater...she shed tears,
and was stunned by the performance of his timeless plays,
and yet, some of his fellow-poets criticized him for his writings!
I wish I had lived in that Victorian era so intellectual and refined,
and had met him in person and had showed him my ample admiration;
I would have asked him the secret, which made him so legendary and loved...
and he would have whispered it to me, to make me revel in that revelation!
I have read his inspiring works, and tragedies rampantly occur
from " Romeo and Juliet"...the Verona's immortal lovers, through" Hamlet "
whose insanity was undoubtedly caused by the specter of his father;
and why didn't Shakespeare choose less dramatic plays not ending in death?
He wanted to teach us indelible lessons to show us how the human spirit
can be passionate, adamant, loveless, envious, cruel, unfair and treacherous...
to outline all kinds of guilt: from murder to envy so well-expressed with eloquence;
it's no mystery to anyone how he conjured up such plots with grief, madness and wit!
Shakespeare was no ordinary kid, and he played with his siblings on Henley Street,
neighbors saw him trot to his grammar school, later he would make everyone weep;
early in adolescence, did his prodigious mind envision one from a vague thought?
It's no wonder that he is widely read even today...hear his speak, he'll impart worth!
Entered in Amy Green's contest, " Wow Me With Inspiration "
Drive across the country
Let imagination flow
Tumbleweed and flat lands
Reveal a western show
Mile markers pave the way
Across this land sublime
Wind blows through the car
On my arm sunshine
Generations of people
Spirits across the land
Occupy a history
Of faces in the sand
Deep inside our spirit
Adheres to our respect
This peaceful land of bounty
No one shall reject
Fresh cut grass lingers
The present rescinding more
Where old shacks and farms
Grasp our inner core
Land abound with wisdom
Dust has settled down
Enjoy driving the distance
See another town
Ancient echoes from the past
Glimmer just beyond your grasp
When you know that you’re alone
Of a long forgotten song
From the corners of your eye
Hints of time passed by
Of things you did not see
Of the things that used to be
There's an antique red barn
Sits atop the hill
And a small little pond
Chock full of blue-gill
There's old rusty cars
Which haven't ran in years
And a hundred year old house
Once manufactured by Sears
It's loaded full of memories
It's filled with lots of charm
It's a place I know and Love
It's all there...On Grandma's Farm
Used to go there every Sunday
From as far back as I can remember
Sledding down the hill
In the snow come December
I Loved it out at Grandmas
Playing with toy tractors in the sand
Going to help split wood
Just to lend a helping hand
I Loved it winter, spring and summer
But my favorite time of all
Was when the leaves all turned
The wonderful colors of fall
I was carefree and happy
The world was free from harm
Way back when I was a kid
Out On My Grandma's Farm
© 2011 Kevin Stock
Today I am about to embark on a journey
that I have waited for, for so long,
they say that this one is the safest ship
were nothing could ever go wrong.
As I stare down at the crowd, I think,
here I am, traveling on the R.M.S. Titanic,
this is the most exciting day of my life
and yet I feel a sense of anxiety and panic.
I calm myself by breathing in April's fresh air
and the sea's waves begin to roll and rock,
I close my eyes and feel the warm sunshine
as the ship finally departs from the dock.
Even though I'm not a first class passenger
I admire the grandeur of the White Star Line,
my few luxuries and the kindness shown to me
are enough to warm this heart of mine.
For Carolyn Devonshire's Past Lives Contest
I'm very interested in learning about the Titanic, but sometimes when I look at a
picture of the ship, I get this tremendous feeling of dread and fear. So much so,
that I cannot look at the photo any longer. I don't know where my fear of this
ship comes from. I have never been on a cruise or had any kind of traumatic
experience on a ship. Sometimes, I think that I may have been on the Titanic
in my past life. I don't know if I would have survived or not.
Oh thou of wretched heart and deed
Inferior our seeds?
When thus thou felt the need to rule
Annihilate deemed weeds
Thou casteth out your wicked net
Of guns and war bent twine
No bulwark for the Jews was found
Declaring heads decline
Compliant soldiers marched the streets
For ducats hedged your bet
With waving flags and Hail Hitler’s
Obliging hands were met
Whilst cyanide was gassings Jews
In bunkers hid you reigned your realm
Coward of plotted deeds
When one man tries to rid the world
Of an imagined foe
Mankind will raise its voice as one
He’ll reap what he did sow
Completed on 2/4/12
All rights reserved by Debra Squyres @ 2013
My fist attempt with a Quatrain…..this a modified quatrain as per specified by the rules of the members contest: Historical Modified Quatrain
1st and 3rd lines eight iambic syllables
2nd and 4th lines 6 iambic syllables
Sherlock Holmes and Watson made
A duo fighting crime
The wise detective and his friend
The greatest in their time!
It all began with 'Gloria Scott'
When old man Trevor died
Sherlock then, to help his friend
His hobby theories tried
Whether Naval Treaties lost
Or strange Red-headed League
Holmes and trusty Watson solved
Conundrums and intrigue
Whether 'twas the Second Stain
Or swan at Abbey Grange
Those dearest fellows smoked their pipes
On matters grave and strange
If Watson never understood
'Till matters did conclude
It sometimes seems 'twas Holmes's fault
That things were misconstrued
Then there came the felons' dread
The sudden shout, "Halloa!"
And Watson, sometimes young Lestrade
Would run to see below
I think, perhaps, that Watson's mind
Was sharper yet than ours
For putting up with Holmes's quirks
Could be like counting stars
London’s Guildhall, John Lilburne is frogmarched in
A man Cromwell considered a friend,
To stand before him accused of high treason
His actions against parliament to defend
As radical leader of the ‘Levellers’
John opposed Parliament fervently,
With his clandestine printing network
Speaking out of its tyranny;
Power, John Lilburne argued
Belonged with the common man,
His pamphlet ‘Agreement of the People’
Defined how, in the ‘Levellers Plan’.
In ‘England’s New Chains Discovered’
He urged soldiers and citizens, ‘unite-
Reject the rule of the Grandees!’
He was arrested and charged with mutinous incite.
Cromwell brought him to the Guildhall
Amid the strictest security
Troubled his trial would cause civil unrest,
Such was John’s popularity
Although eventually acquitted and exiled
He lived the rest of his life a marked man,
And our constitution, today, owes its birth
To the ideals of his ‘Levellers Plan’.
I stood alone on the ship's deck all afternoon
just to watch the sun sinking low on the sea,
the Atlantic ocean is so calm this evening
but, that old feeling of dread still bothers me.
I slowly exhale to calm myself once again
and my breath comes out in a white mist,
the air is slowly turning cold and frigid now
as the night's darkness pulls me into it's own abyss.
There is nothing that I can see out there now
except clear-white burgs of ice in the distance,
another odd feeling hits me that I cannot deny
but, how could ice play a role in my existence?
The sun's rising on April 15th will warm me
and I will escape this feeling of an early fate,
my entire body shudders for the very last time
as the sounds of breaking ice and bending iron reverberate.
This poem was inspired by Paul Callus, who suggested that a sequel
to my poem, "Aboard The Titanic", might make for an interesting read.
Pitter patter, drip, drop, it’s not an April shower
Drip, drop, drip, drop raining hour after long hour
Suddenly the sun streaks through, javelins of sunlight
Then back to pitter, patter, and rain throughout the night.
In and out of doorways, trying to stay dry
Thunder crashing the Queens dead, the country seems to sigh
Edward the happy monarch will rule with fun from now on
Rain, rain, it never stops crying for the Old Queen is gone.
The sun breaks through the London grey, it sparkles on a tree leaf
Drops still dripping slowly, displaying all their grief.
Happy times are coming, skipping down the London streets
Children playing hopscotch, while the bobbies are on the beat.
A blossom opens a leaf unfurls, breathes the rain drops in
The first sup of clean water in these london streets so grim.
Pitter, patter, feel the rain - dodging in and out of doorways
Trying to keep dry in the summer rain as one does always.
The ringing of the bells, Big Ben strikes the hour
A begging hand from a pile of rags huddled in the shower.
The old queen is dead and gone, but wanders through her city
Looking left and right, she shakes her head in certain pity
Through London town she wanders where dirt and grime abound
She’s searching for she does not know - until it she has found
The thunder crashes the rain pours then drips slowly to an end
The queen is dead long live the King she prays his ways he’ll mend.
Entry for Tracie's Anything goes competition This is a Poem I have just done for a Magazine about when Queen Victoria died.
Jessie James was a fine young lad,
When he joined the Confederate troops.
He learned his craft as a shootist and spy,
While traveling with this group.
His commander was one Capt. William Quantrill,
A man with a checkered past;
And under this man he learned hit and run,
Leave your enemies standing aghast.
After his death in 1865,
Quantrill's celebrity stayed,
And Jessie and Frank used what they had learned,
And found guerrilla warfare paid.
They formed with their friends a wild outlaw band,
And looted the banks and trains.
It seemed to work out just as they planned.
To them it seemed quite a good game.
The money came easy and life was good,
And Jessie took him a wife;
Deciding to settle down for a while,
And lead a respectable life;
But two men were killed in a robbery gone bad,
And the governor wanted his life;
And one of his friends thought he'd turn him in,
And get paid and save himself strife.
Dead or Alive made no difference to him,
The reward would still be the same,
But Jessie was fast and his aim was true,
So it seemed to Bob Ford it was plain,
Jessie would have to be caught unawares,
If he would celebrity claim,
The honor, prestige, reward and glory,
As the man who shot Jessie James.
April the third, eighteen eighty-two,
Robert crept up on his friend,
Shot him in the back as a coward will do,
And that's how his story ends;
But Robert lived on in shame and disgrace,
As a low down, back stabbing coward,
Who betrayed his friend for money and fame,
On the day that he shot Thomas Howard.
"AND JESUS SAID UNTO PETER,'PUT UP AGAIN YOUR SWORD INTO IT'S PLACE FOR ALL THEY WHO TAKE THE SWORD SHALL PERISH BY THE SWORD."
For Dana's History Contest