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The Captain

Here all the day she swings from tide to tide,
Here all night long she tugs a rusted chain,
A masterless hulk that was a ship of pride,
Yet unashamed: her memories remain.

It was Nelson in the `Captain', Cape St. Vincent far alee,
With the `Vanguard' leading s'uth'ard in the haze --
Little Jervis and the Spaniards and the fight that was to be,
Twenty-seven Spanish battleships, great bullies of the sea,
And the `Captain' there to find her day of days.

Right into them the `Vanguard' leads, but with a sudden tack
The Spaniards double swiftly on their trail;
Now Jervis overshoots his mark, like some too eager pack,
He will not overtake them, haste he e'er so greatly back,
But Nelson and the `Captain' will not fail.

Like a tigress on her quarry leaps the `Captain' from her place,
To lie across the fleeing squadron's way:
Heavy odds and heavy onslaught, gun to gun and face to face,

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poem by John McCrae
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Ballade: Du Concours De Blois

I'm dying of thirst beside the fountain,
Hot as fire, and with chattering teeth:
In my own land, I'm in a far domain:
Near the flame, I shiver beyond belief:
Bare as a worm, dressed in a furry sheathe,
I smile in tears, wait without expectation:
Taking my comfort in sad desperation:
I rejoice, without pleasures, never a one:
Strong I am, without power or persuasion,
Welcomed gladly, and spurned by everyone.

Nothing is sure for me but what's uncertain:
Obscure, whatever is plainly clear to see:
I've no doubt, except of everything certain:
Science is what happens accidentally:
I win it all, yet a loser I'm bound to be:
Saying: ‘God give you good even!' at dawn,
I greatly fear I'm falling, when lying down:
I've plenty, yet I've not one possession,
I wait to inherit, yet I'm no heir I own,

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poem by François Villon
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Of St. Francis and the Ass

Our father, ere he went
Out with his brother, Death,
Smiling and well-content
As a bridegroom goeth,
Sweetly forgiveness prayed
From man or beast whom he
Had ever injured
Or burdened needlessly.

'Verily,' then said he,
'I crave before I pass
Forgiveness full and free
Of my little brother, the ass.
Many a time and oft,
When winds and ways were hot,
He hath borne me cool and soft
And service grudged me not.

'And once did it betide
There was, unseen of me,

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poem by Katharine Tynan
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Chikungunya

People in hundreds falling sick,
With a strange malady so belligerent,
Never before had they suffered so much,
From any ailment known to them.

It has spread its virulent hooks,
On everyone both young and old,
Hospitals remain flooded with patients,
Scarce in space to accommodate all.

The sickness starts its sudden onslaught,
With fever followed by symptoms many,
Ruddy face and itching skin,
With swollen body and aching limbs,

People move limping lame,
With ankles strained with darting pain.
A terrible fatigue sways over,
And a few develop loss of taste,

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poem by Valsa George
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Still a long way

It did beat me in long way
I was proving difficult and going away
It was not the set course to pursue upon
The hearts are never captured or won

I suffered from male domination
The internal urge was sure indication
I was compelled to stop the violent urge
The devilish idea was surely trying to emerge

What basically do we lack?
Why we move arrogant with stiff neck?
Showing complete arrogance and power
Not realized the essence of life by many but fewer

We are social animal and thus would interact
Mix socially, cordially behave and act
Externally we are perfect and very good gentleman
Internally we are hostile and very cruel man

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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R. S. S.

All-worshipped Gold! thou mighty mystery
Say by what name shall I address thee rather,
Our blessing, or our bane? Without thy aid,
The generous pangs of pity but distress
The human heart, that fain would feel the bliss
Of blessing others; and, enslaved by thee,
Far from relieving woes which others feel,
Misers oppress themselves. Our blessings then
With virtue when possessed; without, our bane.
If in my bosom unperceived there lurk
The deep-sown seeds of avarice or ambition,
Blame me, ye great ones, (for I scorn your censure),
But let the generous and the good commend me;
That to my Delia I direct them all,
The worthiest object of a virtuous love.
Oh! to some distant scene, a willing exile
From the wild uproar of this busy world,
Were it my fate with Delia to retire;
With her to wander through the sylvan shade,
Each morn, or o'er the moss-embrowned turf,

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poem by William Cowper
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Here to Breakdown Barriers

Please.
No need to apologize.
We all have a reason to misinterpret.

And yes, I do agree.
They should regard it a privilege,
That I am in their presence.

Ain't too many of me up in here!
Providing 'urban' insight.
From a point of view,
They believe from TV 'should' be...
Full of venom with tidbits of hate.
Because I am a black man.
Raised in projects they have created,
And made ghettos.

I do not serve that kind of mentality.

You see...

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Red And White Stripes

At the club, I knew straight off you meant something to me,
From the moment you turned around and showed me that look
Which surprised me and how you made that acceptance-shrug
Pleased me greatly, and suddenly my heart and I were stuck.

This hadn't been done before. You were the first to do so.
Not like all the previous girls, you didn't spit me a no.
You were dancing with your friends, your hair shone like a star.
And because you agreed to kiss me, only you were the best by far.

I remember loosening up and making my move forward.
I instantly appreciated your state of mind; you were different to all the others.
And by being different to all the others, I mean you didn't find this awkward.

Our kiss was magical, my mood was nostalgical.
I enjoyed the taste of your saliva and tongue
As Black Eyed Peas' 'I Gotta Feelin'' was what my mind had sung.
Though, in that moment, this was not the song that played.
I wish I'd remembered what it was; no one ever said.

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poem by Stephen Cahill Furlong
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Syrian Christians Minority Psychology

meanwhile in conflict Syria
Wall Street Journal reports
Christians arm themselves?

but few Christians openly sided
with Bashar al-Assad's regime
as ethnic Syrian Alawites did?

most wise Syrian Christians
have stayed completely silent
due to feared post-Assad era?

Syrian Christians fear Muslim
Brotherhood or Salafi policies in
splinter chaotic post al-Assad era?

Christians afraid fear facing same
scenario as invaded Iraqis faced...
in 2003 post US military invasion?

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Tore Carefully The Edge, Open, Of The Thing

1

a New York, perhaps, story

drunken, again, postmaster/
mistress deposits, months,
your long sent gift into the wrong
mailbox downstairs, tenant of
said mailbox on vacation long away

only just arrived from Barcelona
only just got to his mail, found your
gift for me delivered at my surprised,
happily, door only this dull morning
making/waking up the coffee cup
which, too, was flat until the surprise
knocked, arrived, tore carefully the
edge of the thing, which
brought/brings me still surprise,
joy, eyes, scanning in the images/words

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poem by Warren Falcon
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