A Poem

[Skybird]

Found this, and felt life gently tapping me on my shoulder.



Nice actor in a nice series (Barnaby), btw, and a rich voice. I enjoy watching it.

I love that Kipling poem, how about this.

[BossMark]

Here is a Poem:
Here I sit Broken hearted Tried to **** But only farted

[Skybird]

Just learned that he read just the fourth part of the poem. The full poem here:

http://www.kipling.org.uk/poems_if.htm

Great.

[Skybird]

Originally Posted by BossMark

Here is a Poem:
Here I sit Broken hearted Tried to **** But only farted

Thanks for at least trying to... whatever.

"If one cannot understand something, kill it."

this is my favourite poetry of all time. Rage against the dying of the light.

[Jimbuna]

Originally Posted by Skybird

Just learned that he read just the fourth part of the poem. The full poem here:

http://www.kipling.org.uk/poems_if.htm

Great.

Pretty cool Sky

When it comes to Kipling and that poem it can only come to....

my boy jack, amazing

[Thomen]

Never cared much for Kipling myself..

However these I found rather touching:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Dea..._Turret_Gunner

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/charg...light-brigade/

http://english.emory.edu/LostPoets/Dulce.html

[Penguin]

Originally Posted by sidslotm

this is my favourite poetry of all time. Rage against the dying of the light.

This is an unbelievable great poem!

Hi, after reading this testimony, I was moved to write this poem, below. Hope you all like it.

Ted Briggs, HMS Hood.
I had heard it was nice to drown. I stopped trying to swim upwards. The water was a peaceful cradle – I was ready to meet my God. My blissful acceptance of death ended in a sudden surge beneath me, which shot me to the surface like a decanted cork in a champagne bottle. I turned, and 50 yards away I could see the bows of the Hood vertical in the sea. It was the most frightening aspect of my ordeal, and a vision which was to recur terrifyingly in nightmares for the next 40 years.

They said it’s cold on the ocean floor, ther’d be no music anymore,
no one laughs, no one cries, there’s no one else that has to die.
Our uniforms, flags and ribbons, as we stood on bold display,
are the temperal, the moment, as the eternal ticks away.
My shipmates now are Frenchmen, German, Arab, Pole and Jew,
Italian, American, Japanese and every jack that’ll join the crew.
Oh the sea when she rages high, and fluttering hearts cannot deny,
there’s a singing in the tops’ls, “brave men will never die”.

[Sammi79]

In keeping with the naval theme here is one of my favourites :

Guns at Sea by Imtarfa

Let me get back to the guns again, I hear them calling me,
And all I ask is my own ship, and the surge of the open sea,
In the long, dark nights, when the stars are out, and the clean salt breezes blow,
And the land's foul ways are half forgot, like nightmare, and I know
That the world is good, and life worth while, and man's real work to do,
In the final test, in Nature's school, to see which of us rings true.
On shore, in peace, men cheat and lie - but you can't do that at sea,
For the sea is strong; if your work is weak, vain is the weakling's plea
Of a "first offence" or "I'm only young," or "It shall not happen again,"
For the sea finds out your weakness, and writes its lesson plain.
"The liar, the slave, the slum-bred cur - let them stay ashore, say I,
"For, mark it well, if they come to me, I break them and they die.
The land is kind to a soul unsound; I find and probe the flaw,
For I am the tears of eternity that rock to eternal law."

I love the touch of the clean salt spray on my hands and hair and face,
I love to feel the long ship leap, when she feels the sea's embrace,
While down below is the straining hull, o'erhead the gulls and clouds,
And the clean wind comes 'cross the vast sea space, and sings its song in the shrouds.
But now in my dreams, besides the sounds one always hears at sea,
I hear the mutter of distant guns, which call and call to me,
Singing: "Come! The day is here for which you have waited long."
And women's tears, and craven fears, are drowned in that monstrous song.
So whatever the future hold in store, I feel that I must go,
To where, thro' the shattering roar, I hear a voice that whispers low:
"The craven, the weak, the man with nerves, from me they must keep away,
Or a dreadful price in shattered nerves, and broken health they pay.
But send me the man who is calm and strong, in the face of my roaring blast,
He shall tested be in my mighty fires, and if he shall live at the last,
He can go to his home, his friends, his kin, to his life e'er war began,
With a new-found soul, and a new-found strength, knowing himself a man."

http://www.firstworldwar.com/poetsan..._gunsatsea.htm