Best Andrew Carnegie Poems
Recruit Division
I never applied to join the Army, a nice man phoned me,
He said I was the type they liked, with a steel certainty,
Plus he happened to mention the nurses on the way,
And the simple matter of doubling up my pay,
I signed.
So after having passed some sort of fitness tests,
I puffed quite a bit, but certainly tried my best,
I found myself, as many a medic knows,
To the town of Ash Vale, near a certain lady rose,
I’d signed.
Now as I walked, fashionable hair dishevelled,
There ahead of me, was a soldier whose back was upright and level,
So I called out, ‘Sorry to bother you mate, is the way for the Keogh camp gate’?
And the RSM made it very clear, that I would find it and him, certainly quite near,
Now I’d signed.
Within the breath of a watching gnats eye,
My hair was gone, no time to wonder why,
Everything seemed to happen with rapid and specific shouts,
Part of me was now wondering, a modicum of doubt,
Why I’d Signed?
Over the months to follow, each day a tired tomorrow,
I learnt about guns and bangs and running for fun,
Whilst far out on the expanse of the drill square,
A Russian yelled ‘Moy Et’ with a certain disposition,
Signing was my decision.
Now behind that drill square ran the main London line,
So we would be doing things, everything looking fine,
When the London train would pass, thundering on time,
And I tried not to grin at the phrase, ‘I left you in this position’,
Glad I signed.
I discovered a new world of dead fly biscuits,
Often so hungry the compo was worth risking it,
And how far a bed could fly, without seeming to try,
Or how proud I was as my bulled boots, not asking why,
I’d signed.
There was the nine second rule, certainly a gas,
Although they’d not mentioned they would take off the mask,
As each of us fit and healthy blokes,
Laid on the grass, throat burning chocked,
But I signed.
Finally a day arrived, escape from the camp,
Helping my granddad walk up the ramp,
Parents watched on as their son stood up,
Second best recruit, but no second cup,
Proud I’d signed.
Andrew Carnegie, Reminiscing Aldershot, 14th Jan 2017.
Distressed, I attest,
Like not blessed,
A voice in my head,
Said out of bed,
So I was led to
A quiet church,
As owls sang out,
Midnight gone tombs,
And my tears appeared,
Death beckoned long
finger nails of distraction,
And so I gazed upon an open Abbey, with folk awake that caused a shake, God botherers with likely guitars, a melange of niceness where only grief was sat. So I drifted in, hiding behind tissues
of my own life lies, and sat prepared to run, quite prepared and scared, from that worse than death, the well meaning Christian. Then as I sank into the pews, staring up from rotten shoes, my woes, my blues, I saw floating in midair, a man, with dark blooded hair, and I knew then I was crazy within my distress, not blessed. But as that thought, which came to nought, crossed my elitist demeanour, I shared everything he felt, and at that moment, beyond compare, exquisite agony my problems became less than my being, now seeing Christ. Never one to take miraculous moments without scepticism, I stood disbelieving, a rescued Thomas who had seen, unseeing, still unbelieving.
So I walked with much chagrin
towards the font my eyes had
seen, to find rational reasons,
A reflection, some explanation,
for why of all people this soul
of mine, might be saved by
one whose face I had denied
for so long, that no song could
ever write my wrongs, and there
in a Pentecostal moment, I
gained insight into the wind
that came at night, where no
delight was held for me,
an agnostic changed now for
all eternity. A man unworthy
of that name, came to faith,
kicking, screaming at how
unfair, it was to find that God
was really there, and worse,
so much worse, he knew my
name, and despite my attempts,
cared enough to save my day.
@Andrew Carnegie, Bessay Lighthouse, 28th December 2016. A true story.
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When I was a kid, I know, long ago,
We scrumped apples from neighbours orchards,
Climbed trees, scared bees, skinned our knees,
And once, quite daft, built a raft on the river exe,
Which upended before I knew about vanishing stability,
Or indeed, even my own ability, to do important stuff, like swim,
And my parents felt in charge, unaware of that near insanity,
Life was adventurous, often dangerous, pleasant calamity.
After all, boys will be boys!
Now today, I hear folk rein their children in,
Its considered a sin to even think of doing wrong,
Like pre-pubescent fun fair balloons,
Modern minor loons are floated on virtual strings,
That report everything, each step, each minor misdirect,
Social media monitored, mobile device ahead of vices,
No chances to learn how to exist around even minor risk,
As parenthood clashes charged glasses, after classes,
Why boys cannot be boys.
We learnt to stand firm in a boxing ring, ears ringing,
Whilst on the rugby field we were stamped into shape,
Little gingerbread dough boys, crusted up into teenage loaves,
That may not have been to everyones politically correct taste,
But no matter the blame, we learned to stand, just the same,
And despite accusations today we were neglected,
I grew up in a World where our parents were respected,
For we leant quickly the need to hear them often say,
But officer, boys will be boys.
@Andrew Carnegie, Wiltshire, January 2017.
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The Search to Find the Edge of the Ice
They say moss doesn't gather on a stone rolling, in motion,
And even wise algae gets left in the wake,
Of a proud ship, foresail dipped, rising upon an ocean,
Yet what of the movement of cold, blued, polar ice,
Where humanity has no known device,
That can truly assess each crevasse like a human eye,
Not wafting past, digitising from way up high,
But the eye picking out subtle changes,
The sense of touch, of feeling crumbling, matters much,
And no satellite can be quite right as the human nose,
Smelling fauna, or the stench of rotting, dead plants or fish,
For ice recedes its movement gathers stones,
But it reveals things, that satellites alone,
Can never bring to assess, without assumption in that process,
And so a legend of arctic exploration abandons long treks,
Or climbing mountains, and not due to getting older,
Indeed using boats for a landlubber is getting bolder,
Taking stock of the after shock,
The Northwest passage laid out, like a virgin on a wedding night,
Internally sobbing for the state our world is in,
For there was no ice, not even enough for a consoling gin,
The long march of humanity's future discontent,
Requires assessment, a global response to a new war cry,
Come Europe, Come China, Come India, Come America,
Come hear the cry of the Canadian northwest,
Of the fears of Greenland becoming a new forest,
Come Australasia, Russia too, come all countries, much to do,
For we must rise to assess the circumstance of the ice regress,
To prevent surprise, loss of our world's bequest,
And pushing forward the advance guard of this new challenge,
Is Sir David's team, the polar ocean phalanx,
Not sat around at home in comfy armchairs,
But doing something, going somewhere, to show we care,
Seeking to find and monitor and report back,
Crucial knowledge that currently we lack,
For how can we plan to avoid our worlds future sorrows,
If we do not make an effort to find out for our tomorrow,
Where exactly is the edge of the ice, which today no device,
Can show in a way that all of human kind can know,
Does the ice recede or simply ebb and flow,
Stand up, man up, pay up, support them,
Lets see them depart and sail,
To find this century’s holy grail,
The search to find ‘The Edge of the Ice’.
@Andrew Carnegie, Challenged in Wiltshire, Jan 12th 2017.
Sexist Selective's
I’m getting old, easily confused,
So things take time to sink in,
Especially, from around our World,
Issues to behold, such daily news.
Now for some todays big thing to spoil it,
Is not famine or drought,
Nor is it the prospect of an impending war,
It seems Texas creates a controversial toilet.
In fact it has not actually created anything,
Merely stated that men born men are men,
And legislated that ladies, once again,
Are also ladies, which creates a sting.
You see the joy of the image of humanity,
Is our constant striving to adapt and change,
In this case gender is on the page,
Creating this particular new insanity.
For quite understandably, those we have changed,
Wish to be seen in the image of their new rights,
Men are now men, once again based on latest measure,
Ladies also, now could have been born a different range.
Now it strikes me, its really not that hard,
That the real issue here is the segregation of toilets,
Its the toilets that are the sexist selective’s,
Why not change their design, its not that hard.
Today, given the blessing of a flushing loo,
Which is denied to nearly half our World,
Surely we just have loo’s, no more hullabaloo,
All toilets unisex, the kindest and easiest thing we can do!
@Andrew Carnegie, flushing environmentally, Wiltshire Jan 6th 2017.
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Fallen Idle
I watched a YouTube Ted talk, the guy did well,
Discussing the problems of millennials,
The disenfranchised generation,
Whose parents divorced intercourse,
Whilst aspiring to be like the far film stars,
With wealthy trappings, expensive cars,
Inculcated self belief of making an impact,
Because the parents were too weak to try,
Although they worked hard to survive,
And the growing umbrella of social media,
The face looked, head down upwardly mobile,
Who Twitter about Kardashians as though they are real,
Everyone can do everything they decide to feel,
Absurdity of a real World that doesn't quite behold,
Nor loves support of those fallen idle!
@Andrew Carnegie, Millennial musing, Monday 9th Jan 2017.
If you would like to know a bit about me and my poetry please click this link below:
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Prayer
We forgot to pray today,
Our mutual supplication,
Benefaction via genuflection,
The midweek start to day,
And we forgot to pray.
We forgot that perfection,
Become a broken situation,
That our human condition,
Was of our own volition,
And we forgot to pray.
We forgot that God’s promise,
Was not to be controlling,
But in a relationship evolving,
That God needs constant permission,
But we forgot to pray.
We forgot to see the simple things,
The rise of sun and dimple things,
Birdsong on a frosty mourn,
The breath of life that does adorn,
And we forgot to pray.
So as we forgot to pray,
Dear God thank you for this day,
Thank you for all that we survey,
That we are fearfully but wondrously made,
And sorry we forgot to pray.
@Andrew Carnegie, Apologetic in Wiltshire, January 5th 2017.
If you would like to know a bit about me and my poetry please click this link below:
https://youtu.be/Ic_V7aX4xbk
Wise Old Men
Two old drinking buddies,
Reflected upon their past,
Till one of them asked,
Why's it taken so long,
For us to realise,
We don't need alcohol,
To have such a blast!
@Andrew Carnegie, Ageing in Wiltshire, 14th Jan 2017.
Weekend Commute
I dissolved into grey crowds
Flooding Londons underground,
Loosing my identity in the flow,
Swimming with currents,
Counter cultural, guttural,
Warmed by the sight,
Of many travellers,
Taking their luggage,
For constitutional walks.
@Andrew Carnegie, Post Paddington, 7th Jan 2017
If you would like to know a bit about me and my poetry please click this link below:
https://youtu.be/Ic_V7aX4xbk
As one walks along life's highway
many thoughts cross your mind
big mountains come to face us
where solutions we need to find
There was one mountain mover supreme
think of him today as visit his birthplace
Andrew Carnegie overcame much adversity
achieving fame and fortune above his race
But we all can move our own barriers
things that seem like mountains so high
when we face up to them head on
believing that indeed we can fly
Remember God himself in person of his son
Jesus Christ said believe upon me
and you'll be able to move mountains
this reality your eyes will see!
My Music
I sat observing the world going by,
Simply happy, a true contented sigh,
Then I found myself, with a pleasant refrain,
Saying ‘bom’, then ‘bom, bom' again!
Soon I was grinning as each ‘bom’ appeared,
You could see me the simpleton, split from ear to ear,
My semi tuneful ‘boms’, didn’t take that long,
But to my uneducated mind, they almost seemed like song,
‘Bom, Bom Bom, Bom Bom Bom Bom Bom Bom’,
In the background I could hear the birds now appear,
Rushing to join in, a chorus now seemed near,
Whilst in the foreground, thunder clouds seemed proud,
I starting tapping, my ‘boms’ now quite loud,
For you see, that as each ‘bom’ made me grin,
I realised with pride, the true music was inside!
And I was loved!
@Andrew Carnegie, My Music, Bomming Wiltshire, Sat 14th jan, 2017.
Genesis
There was a beginning,
A moment when space and time began,
But before the beginning, something,
Which seems odd as it's nothing,
Not an absolute, to be understood,
Nothing that contained something,
Relative nothingness outside space and time,
From which everything came into being,
The masterful point of creation, a Big Bang!
Now quantum entanglement offers power,
Computational capacity beyond our dreams,
Yet we fail to see nor even mention the contention,
In a state of relative nothingness containing everything,
The computational power would be beyond comprehension,
What if that pre space entangled pre time, became aware,
Would it be so odd to realise that could be God,
Or that those particles really were in everything,
Then the Atheists are right, God is relatively nothing,
But in being so, is everything and so much more.
@Andrew Carnegie, quantum musings, Saturday 7th Jan, 2017.
If you would like to know a bit about me and my poetry please click this link below:
https://youtu.be/Ic_V7aX4xbk
Losing my seat
To explain regarding my train,
I left my seat seeking tea,
Up on my feet, out of my seat,
Asking a near neighbour to keep,
A close eye on my bag,
Not a difficult feat,
So after my sojourn,
I swayed my return,
To find a disabled man,
Had taken both my place,
But also thrown my bag,
Across the floor,
Politely I asked, if I could request,
That he move, just a little,
Something he did with a smile,
His blind eyes turned upwards,
In a shrivelled, crippled way,
And in between his sudden screams,
I learnt of his birthday, 33 today,
And his friend Obe, who guided his way,
A dreadlocked black angel,
Seeing the glory of God's creation,
In my humble acceptance,
Of circumstances survived,
And I was grateful he stole my place!
@Andrew Carnegie, Twixt Reading and Swindon,
Jan 7th 2017.
If you would like to know a bit about me and my poetry please click this link below:
https://youtu.be/Ic_V7aX4xbk
Tennyson's Revenge
Unknown bumbling stumbling reading,
Of an old poem, its story older stored,
About the 'Revenge' of English men
Who died keeping Spain from our shores.
Sir Richards blazing stand, one I never knew,
The gallant English David, standing despite sick crew,
One little English ship, sailed out in Spanish deeps,
Her heart English oak, the oak we longed to keep.
For those acorns were all oak in every part,
The simple offspring, sailing English hearts,
And they took 'Revenge', like a terrier amongst the flock,
Outgunned, outnumbered, Spain the job to stop.
Unknown English acorns, half bilge sickly lain,
Such bravery they showed, difficult to explain,
They called quarters, forgetting sons and daughters,
One little English oak, against all the forests of Catholic Spain.
All day, all night, without any hope respite,
The acorns tore the forest, nails to the fight,
And lay shattered, in bloody morning light,
Spanish sorely wounded, such an impossibility of sight.
Now Sir Richards dying wish, was to sink their only ship,
But his officers denied, saying we fought here with pride,
Let us face our captors, for our victory cannot be denied,
Then the weather upped, and every man then died.
And I cried at Tennyson's 'Revenge'.
@Andrew Carnegie, wiping tears, Wiltshire January 11th 2017.
The Coming Storm
Forlorn pregnant expectancy,
Sky belly swollen,
A neonate of dark violence,
Gathers under crying skirts,
Once puffed white pride,
Now taken to the dark side,
Paparazzi flash indolence,
Natures media hot wired,
Lightening fused nostrils,
As the battery taste surrounds,
Hair rejects servitude, levitating,
Van de Graaff stasis discharged,
But always the ominous threat,
Of a war unleashed none survives.
@Andrew Carnegie, Stormy Wiltshire, 14th Jan 2017.