Quotes about island, page 14
Parrot In Paradise
Parrot in the cyclone eye
spread his sodden wings to dry.
Wall of wind approaching sly
snapped him up and flung him high.
Swept aloft a hundred mile,
dropped on black volcanic isle,
Parrot viewed the ashy pile;
not the jolliest exile.
Parrot flew around the peak,
finding there a pleasing scene.
Brought a smile to his beak,
a little paradise of green.
After roaming full extent
sadly, it seemed evident,
on this fertile lava vent
he alone was resident.
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poem by Diane Hine
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Piel Ballad (For the King of Piel)
king of piel, lord of ale
hear the cryer wail
be crowned this day upon piel isle
let the knights set sail
proclaim his glory
to the sea, and to the furness lands
his castle fires burn again
upon fine foudreys sands.
his jesters play, his legions march
the crowds they all do cheer
the king and queen have come at last
and with them cometh beer
come daughters come sons to the coronation
to the crowning of the king of piel
come one come all come everyone
for the legends of him are real
tis true for sure what ye have heard
in tale of folk and lore
bout strange crown and kingship passed
on down from days of yore.
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poem by Graham Eccles
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The two little skeezucks
There were two little skeezucks who lived in the isle
Of Boo in a southern sea;
They clambered and rollicked in heathenish style
In the boughs of their cocoanut tree.
They didn't fret much about clothing and such
And they recked not a whit of the ills
That sometimes accrue
From having to do
With tailor and laundry bills.
The two little skeezucks once heard of a Fair
Far off from their native isle,
And they asked of King Fan if they mightn't go there
To take in the sights for awhile.
Now old King Fan
Was a good-natured man
(As good-natured monarchs go),
And howbeit he swore that all Fairs were a bore,
He hadn't the heart to say "No."
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poem by Eugene Field
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Earthquakes And Tsunami
Some scientists had located a missing geological piece therefore,
They found a puzzle of plate tectonics in the Southwest Pacific Ocean.
East and West Antarctica had spread twenty six million years before.
The rift between them opened one hundred miles due to this motion.
The scientists had clearly described how the Pacific tectonic plate,
The North American plate and others have moved at different points in time.
As one plate moves, the adjoining one is affected and there were adequate
Theories about plate moves, earthquakes, tsunami and changing the clime.
One plate affects the other one because the mantle was planetary pieced
In a plate tectonics jigsaw puzzle, named the 'global plate circuit' mystery.
Zones around the Antarctic Ross Sea and the West rift were imbalanced,
Pushing other plates and this fact has been a mystery for a quarter century.
Knowing about the plate motion around Antarctica is an important key
To understand the motions between the Pacific and North American plate,
To understand better than before the East and West Antarctica geology
And to determine the plate motions in California, until it is not too late.
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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Ireland - 1882
'ISLAND of Destiny! Innisfail!' they cried, when their weary eyes
First looked on thy beauteous bosom from the amorous, ocean rise.
'Island of Destiny! Innisfail!' we cry. dear land, to thee,
As the sun of thy future rises and reddens the western sea!
Pregnant as earth with its gold and gems and its metals strong and fine,
Is thy soul with its ardors and fancies and sympathies divine.
Mustard seed of the nations! they scattered thy leaves to the air,
But the ravisher pales at the harvest that flourishes everywhere.
Queen in the right of thy courage! manacled, scourged, defamed,
Thy voice in the teeth of the bayonets the right of a race proclaimed.
'Bah!' they sneered from their battlements, 'her people cannot unite;
They are sands of the sea, that break before the rush of our ordered might!'
And wherever the flag of the pirate flew, the English slur was heard,
And the shallow of soul re-echoed the boast of the taunting word.
But we—O sun, that of old was our god, we look in thy face to-day,
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poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Crab Island Light
The sea beats in at the headland spur
Then rounds Crab Island Reef,
The rip is a grey and swirling dearth
That will drag you underneath,
Then it hums and moans as it rounds the reef
And it howls in a winter storm,
'Til it beats up hard on the inland beach
Where the Light still stands, forlorn.
I kept that Light in my younger days
With my wife, sweet Mary Anne,
She swept and cleaned while I kept the glass
Of those mirrors spic and span,
I cleaned and polished them well by day
And tended the Light by night,
To warn seafarers of reef and rocks
With the beam of the Island Light.
But evenings, then, we'd lock the doors
And we'd climb up, out of reach
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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On a Close-up of Louis Esterhuizen, on His Poem “Winnie”
So tell me Louis, you allege:
“I went to look at the remarks
found in his biographical sketch:
“I love the work of various poets
and my favourites are AG Visser, Eugene Marais,
Ingrid Jonker, D.J. Opperman, N.P. Van Wyk Louw,
William Shakespeare, Dylan Thomas, John Keats,
Robert Frost, W.B. Yeats, Yahuda Amichai,
Hannah Szenes, Stevie Smith, Dorothy Parker
and even Homer.””
Further you say: “With the exception of a few names
under the English favourites, all the Afrikaans poets are experts
whom he probably encountered at school,
if a person looks at the verses on his page
you realise that Mr. X has never grown past the incidental
school-contact...In this he is alas not unique.”
Still you are the great master
where it comes to the works of Homer,
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poem by Gert Strydom
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The Palatine
Leagues north, as fly the gull and auk,
Point Judith watches with eye of hawk;
Leagues south, thy beacon flames, Montauk!
Lonely and wind-shorn, wood-forsaken,
With never a tree for Spring to waken,
For tryst of lovers or farewells taken,
Circled by waters that never freeze,
Beaten by billow and swept by breeze,
Lieth the island of Manisees,
Set at the mouth of the Sound to hold
The coast lights up on its turret old,
Yellow with moss and sea-fog mould.
Dreary the land when gust and sleet
At its doors and windows howl and beat,
And Winter laughs at its fires of peat!
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poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Elemental Drifts
ELEMENTAL drifts!
How I wish I could impress others as you have just been impressing
me!
As I ebb'd with an ebb of the ocean of life,
As I wended the shores I know,
As I walk'd where the ripples continually wash you, Paumanok,
Where they rustle up, hoarse and sibilant,
Where the fierce old mother endlessly cries for her castaways,
I, musing, late in the autumn day, gazing off southward,
Alone, held by this eternal Self of me, out of the pride of which I
utter my poems,
Was seiz'd by the spirit that trails in the lines underfoot, 10
In the rim, the sediment, that stands for all the water and all the
land of the globe.
Fascinated, my eyes, reverting from the south, dropt, to follow those
slender winrows,
Chaff, straw, splinters of wood, weeds, and the sea-gluten,
Scum, scales from shining rocks, leaves of salt-lettuce, left by the
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poem by Walt Whitman
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Prayer Of Columbus
IT was near the close of his indomitable and pious life--on his last voyage
when nearly 70 years of age--that Columbus, to save his two remaining ships
from foundering in the Caribbean Sea in a terrible storm, had to run them
ashore on the Island of Jamaica--where, laid up for a long and miserable
year--1503--he was taken very sick, had several relapses, his men revolted,
and death seem'd daily imminent; though he was eventually rescued, and sent
home to Spain to die, unrecognized, neglected and in want......It is only
ask'd, as preparation and atmosphere for the following lines, that the bare
authentic facts be recall'd and realized, and nothing contributed by the
fancy. See, the Antillean Island, with its florid skies and rich foliage
and scenery, the waves beating the solitary sands, and the hulls of the
ships in the distance. See, the figure of the great Admiral, walking the
beach, as a stage, in this sublimest tragedy--for what tragedy, what poem,
so piteous and majestic as the real scene?--and hear him uttering--as his
mystical and religious soul surely utter'd, the ideas following--perhaps,
in their equivalents, the very words.
A BATTER'D, wreck'd old man,
Thrown on this savage shore, far, far from home,
Pent by the sea, and dark rebellious brows, twelve dreary months,
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poem by Walt Whitman
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