Quotes about rigging
`Oh, if that Rainbow up there!
Oh, if that rainbow up there,
Spanning the sky past the hill,
Slenderly, tenderly fair
Shining with colours that thrill,
Oh, if that rainbow up there,
Just for a moment could reach
Through the wet slope of the air
Here where I stand on the beach!
Here where the waves wash the strand,
Swing itself lovingly low,
Let me catch fast with one hand,
Climb its frail rigging and go.
Climb its frail rigging and go?
Where is its haven of rest?
Out in the gleam and the glow
Of the blood-red waves of the West?
Or where the isles of the dawn
Lie on an amethyst sea,
[...] Read more
poem by Ethel Turner
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Child Of The Damned
[ warlord cover ]
You made me see right past myself, well beyond
My fears, realized Im synchronized, far beyond my years
Im so geard unto them, I serve unto their souls
Now that Im addicted, my hunger only grows
Im a child of the damned, I follow where I go
Rigging to the cross, as holy as a whore
Im just a child of the damned
Witches coven, the time has come for those sabbatical
Years, revelation is the message, for all in all to hear
Prophets slayed, mankind arrayed into mass submission
Evils here, the lord of hell gives you the proposition
Im a child of the damned, I follow where I go
Rigging to the cross, as holy as a whore
Im just a child of the damned
Give away your life goals, your meaning and ambition
It means nothing to you, after all its superstition
Do not be afraid, the world is near the end
Is it better to rule in hell, than it is to serve in heaven?
Im a child of the damned, I follow where I go
[...] Read more
song performed by Hammerfall
Added by Lucian Velea
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The thing about rigging is, you can learn it if you become a master rigger but there's no book on rigging.
quote by Richard Serra
Added by Lucian Velea
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South Eastern Sea of Mekong Delta
The company sent our cargo afloat;
nautilus stand on the rigging, aloft;
it is the dusk time ghosts visit oft,
tearing silences alongside the boat.
Sea roils upon the superstructure,
streaming forecastle to breakwater,
tide hits bullward as a loose cotter,
forces our suspicion for a fracture.
Water entered through the hatch;
-turn ten degrees to haul the wind,
rhythmic heave and a flashing glint,
with a swelling head-sea mismatch.
Winds Beaufort fast on evil squeal,
Iron-like gusts, we bellow the horn;
hulls down, hollers a signal to warn,
of the suffered damage on the keel.
[...] Read more
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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The Ballad of the 'Britain's Pride
It was a skipper of Lowestoft
That trawled the northern sea,
In a smack of thrice ten tons and seven,
And the
Britain's Pride
was she.
And the waves were high to windward,
And the waves were high to lee,
And he said as he lost his trawl-net,
'What is to be, will be.'
His craft she reeled and staggered,
But he headed her for the hithe,
In a storm that threatened to mow her down
As grass is mown by the scythe;
When suddenly through the cloud-rift
The moon came sailing soft,
And he saw one mast of a sunken ship
Like a dead arm held aloft.
[...] Read more
poem by William Watson
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The Port O'Call
Our hull is seldom painted,
Our decks are seldom stoned;
Our sails are patched and cobbled
And chains by rust marooned.
Our rigging is untidy,
And all things in accord:—
We always sail on Friday
With thirteen souls on board.
For all the days save Friday
Were days of dark despair—
The fourteenth died of fever
Whenever he was there.
Our good ship is the Chancit—
Her oldest name of all;
But, in the ports we’re blown to,
She’s called the ‘Port o’ Call.’
Our captain old Wot Matters—
Our first mate young Hoo Kares,
Our cook is Wen Yew Wan Tit,
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Lawson
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Haunted By Tigers
NATHAN BEANS and William Lambert were two wild New England boys,
Known from infancy to revel only in forbidden joys.
Many a mother of Nantucket bristled when she heard them come,
With a horrid skulking whistle, tempting her good lad from home.
But for all maternal bristling little did they seem to care,
And they loved each other dearly, did this good-for-nothing pair.
So they lived till eighteen summers found them in the same repute,—
They had well-developed muscles, and loose characters to boot.
Then they did what wild Nantucket boys have never failed to do,—
Went and filled two oily bunks among a whaler's oily crew.
And the mothers,—ah! they raised their hands and blessed the lucky day,
While Nantucket waved its handkerchief to see them sail away.
On a four years' cruise they started in the brave old 'Patience Parr,'
And were soon initiated in the mysteries of tar.
There they found the truth that whalers' tales are unsubstantial wiles,—
They were sick and sore and sorry ere they passed the Western Isles;
And their captain, old-man Sculpin, gave their fancies little scope,
For he argued with a marlinspike and reasoned with a rope.
[...] Read more
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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The Haglets
By chapel bare, with walls sea-beat
The lichened urns in wilds are lost
About a carved memorial stone
That shows, decayed and coral-mossed,
A form recumbent, swords at feet,
Trophies at head, and kelp for a
winding-sheet.
I invoke thy ghost, neglected fane,
Washed by the waters' long lament;
I adjure the recumbent effigy
To tell the cenotaph's intent--
Reveal why fagotted swords are at feet,
Why trophies appear and weeds are the
winding-sheet.
By open ports the Admiral sits,
And shares repose with guns that tell
Of power that smote the arm'd Plate Fleet
Whose sinking flag-ship's colors fell;
[...] Read more
poem by Herman Melville
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Annus Mirabilis, The Year Of Wonders, 1666
1
In thriving arts long time had Holland grown,
Crouching at home and cruel when abroad:
Scarce leaving us the means to claim our own;
Our King they courted, and our merchants awed.
2
Trade, which, like blood, should circularly flow,
Stopp'd in their channels, found its freedom lost:
Thither the wealth of all the world did go,
And seem'd but shipwreck'd on so base a coast.
3
For them alone the heavens had kindly heat;
In eastern quarries ripening precious dew:
For them the Idumaean balm did sweat,
And in hot Ceylon spicy forests grew.
4
The sun but seem'd the labourer of the year;
[...] Read more
poem by John Dryden
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Oh Africa!
oh! my continent
where my people starve for food,
where my people are suffering,
with extreme poverty.
where things interchange
corruption for the leader,
hopeless for the citizen,
poverty for the people,
street for the lunatic,
Rigging for the election,
jobless for the educative,
fraud for the youth,
expensive cars for the politicians,
laughage film for the white,
crying bitter things for the Black,
should we call this fate?
The fifty_four caps had turned Africa to something else,
The fifty_four caps has now unable to fit us.
poem by Agbaje Samson from Oh Africa! (21 March 2020), translated by Agbaje Samson
Added by Talented£
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