Quotes about pirate, page 17
To My Brother Poet, Seeking Peace
People wish to be settled. Only as long as they are unsettled is there any hope for them.
-- Thoreau
My life has been
the instrument
for a mouth
I have never seen,
breathing wind
which comes
from I know not
where,
arranging and changing
my moods,
so as to make
an opening
for his voice.
Or hers.
Muse, White Goddess
mother with invisible
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poem by Erica Jong
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Grey Gull
'Twas on an iron, icy day
I saw a pirate gull down-plane,
And hover in a wistful way
Nigh where my chickens picked their grain.
An outcast gull, so grey and old,
Withered of leg I watched it hop,
By hunger goaded and by cold,
To where each fowl full-filled its crop.
They hospitably welcomed it,
And at the food rack gave it place;
It ate and ate, it preened a bit,
By way way of gratitude and grace.
It parleyed with my barnyard cock,
Then resolutely winged away;
But I am fey in feather talk,
And this is what I heard it say:
"I know that you and all your tribe
Are shielded warm and fenced from fear;
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poem by Robert William Service
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From A to Z.
I do everything with you from A to Z.
From the moment you wake up
Till I pat you on your head,
And tuck you up into bed.
I do everything with you
For you, because the day
Starts and finishes with you
Because I love you!
I need your laughter
Because I need your fun, my son
This wintery cold dreary Easter
What I don't need, is your strops.
When you get out of bed
And I don't have your Coco Pops
Let's just have Cornflakes, instead.
And be done my son.
When you couldn't get your way
Alas; once again, the other day.
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poem by Mark Heathcote
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The Cross-Current
THROUGH twelve stout generations
New England blood I boast;
The stubborn pastures bred them,
The grim, uncordial coast,
Sedate and proud old cities,—
Loved well enough by me,
Then how should I be yearning
To scour the earth and sea.
Each of my Yankee forbears
Wed a New England mate:
They dwelt and did and died here,
Nor glimpsed a rosier fate.
My clan endured their kindred;
But foreigners they loathed,
And wandering folk, and minstrels,
And gypsies motley-clothed.
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poem by Abbie Farwell Brown from Anthology of Massachusetts Poets (1922)
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A True Story of Love
Two years ago, I met a young girl who's mom was in and out of her life
Then her father and uncle died a few mounths apart, So her mom was
forced back into her life.They came to my hometown, to visit my cusin
for she and the young girl's mom was childhood friends.We met when
they all came to my place, me and the young girl fell in love.It was a doomed love for she was only 15 and I was 36. We was only together
a few mounths, then I got her pregnent.We got along at first then
we started fighting.we moved back to her hometown to be with her
family, while she was pregnent, and I got a job there.She had our child,
she was so very wonderful, and did a good job haveing our son.I owe
her tremendessly! I thought we might not fight any more.But we did
and things got out of hand.I took off with our son to my hometown,
she stayed with her grand parents.We talked every night, and agreed
to work things out.Her mom brought her back down to stay with me.
Then we got into a fight agian.The cops was called, they locked me up,
took her to the hospital.Even thow I did'nt hurt her.Then they called
her mom to come get her and our son.Her mom could'nt come get her,
so they placed her and our son in foster care.She did'nt act right in
the foster home, so they split her and our son up.Now shes in a group
home and our son is still in foster care.I hear she is going to be placed in an apartment in my hometown when she turns 18, in a mounth
from now. But I can't return to my hometown because social services
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poem by Pirate Love Magic Man
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That! ? moment? !
What would writers do without
the question mark?
(luckier still, Spanish writers, who can begin their questions with
an upside down, wrinkle-your-brow-here question mark,
to begin their questions...) :
and then there's the rather immature mark, some say:
of share-it-with-me exclamation - surprise surprise!
But beyond all punditry, there are those moments
when life unexpectedly confounds us
with some event that's simply! ?
- or one that's rather more? !
Once when I wrote for a magazine now defunct,
I was offered one day as a kindness by our Editor
to present myself to a famous ophthalmic
(that's an eye-test in itself, that word)
surgeon, who might have a part-time job
to suit an underpaid journalist:
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poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Domain
The bulging cloud mounts lazily
In shade where sunlight glances through,
And sweeping lightly from the tree
Melts indolently in the blue.
The scanty grass-blades yonder shake,
A tremulous flurry takes the smoke,
And ancient memories start awake
At pungent scent of fig and oak.
For here of old an urchin strayed
And gloomed in lonely pride the while,
An outlaw in a forest glade
Or pirate on a tropic isle.
Here where a staid policeman strolls
Ned Kelly in his armour stood,
And underneath the roadway rolls
The river of the Haunted Wood.
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poem by John Le Gay Brereton
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A Message of Peace
THERE once was a pirate, greedy and bold,
Who ravaged for gain, and saved the spoils;
Till his coffers were bursting with bloodstained gold,
And millions of captives bore his toils.
Then fear took hold of him, and he cried:
'I have gathered enough; now, war should cease!'
And he sent out messengers far and wide
(To the strong ones only) to ask for peace.
'We are Christian brethren!' thus he spake;
'Let us seal a contract—never to fight!
Except against rebels who dare to break
The bonds we have made by the victor's right.'
And the strong ones listen; and some applaud
The kindly offer and righteous word;
With never a dream of deceit or fraud,
They would spike the cannon and break the sword.
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poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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To Englishmen
You flung your taunt across the wave;
We bore it as became us,
Well knowing that the fettered slave
Left friendly lips no option save
To pity or to blame us.
You scoffed our plea. 'Mere lack of will,
Not lack of power,' you told us:
We showed our free-state records; still
You mocked, confounding good and ill,
Slave-haters and slaveholders.
We struck at Slavery; to the verge
Of power and means we checked it;
Lo! — presto, change! its claims you urge,
Send greetings to it o'er the surge,
And comfort and protect it.
But yesterday you scarce could shake,
In slave-abhorring rigor,
Our Northern palms for conscience' sake:
To-day you clasp the hands that ache
With 'walloping the nigger!'
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poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Brother Jonathan's Lament
SHE has gone,-- she has left us in passion and pride,--
Our stormy-browed sister, so long at our side!
She has torn her own star from our firmament's glow,
And turned on her brother the face of a foe!
Oh, Caroline, Caroline, child of the sun,
We can never forget that our hearts have been one,--
Our foreheads both sprinkled in Liberty's name,
From the fountain of blood with the finger of flame!
You were always too ready to fire at a touch;
But we said, "She is hasty,-- she does not mean much."
We have scowled, when you uttered some turbulent threat;
But Friendship still whispered, "Forgive and forget!"
Has our love all died out? Have its altars grown cold?
Has the curse come at last which the fathers foretold?
Then Nature must teach us the strength of the chain
That her petulant children would sever in vain.
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poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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