We had not seen any natives for many days, but a few passed the camp on the opposite side of the river on the evening of the 25th. They would not, however, come to us; but fled into the interior in great apparent alarm.
quote by Charles Sturt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We left Dayton, September 23, and arrived at our camp at Kill Devil Hill on Friday, the 25th.
quote by Orville Wright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Remember
The brown raging river flows fast
Along the southing flooded shores
Where once a younger I had passed
Those many long lost years of yore.
I am reminded of August
Of fifty-five: the great deluge
When the river was its deepest
And residents fled to refuge
From the continuous rising
Water. I remember houses
Afloat and animals clinging
To life with their frenzy faces.
I remember…just standing here
Gazing at this mighty Delaware.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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A Year's Casualties
Slain as they lay by the secret, slow,
Pitiless hand of an unseen foe,
Two score thousand old soldiers have crossed
The river to join the loved and lost.
In the space of a year their spirits fled,
Silent and white, to the camp of the dead.
One after one, they fall asleep
And the pension agents awake to weep,
And orphaned statesmen are loud in their wail
As the souls flit by on the evening gale.
O Father of Battles, pray give us release
From the horrors of peace, the horrors of peace!
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Now it is evident that a little insight into the customs of every people is necessary to insure a kindly communication; this, joined with patience and kindness, will seldom fail with the natives of the interior.
quote by Charles Sturt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Musical Instrument
What was he doing, the great god Pan,
Down in the reeds by the river?
Spreading ruin and scattering ban,
Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat,
And breaking the golden lilies afloat
With the dragon-fly on the river.
He tore out a reed, the great god Pan,
From the deep cool bed of the river:
The limpid water turbidly ran,
And the broken lilies a-dying lay,
And the dragon-fly had fled away,
Ere he brought it out of the river.
High on the shore sat the great god Pan
While turbidly flowed the river;
And hacked and hewed as a great god can,
With his hard bleak steel at the patient reed,
Till there was not a sign of the leaf indeed
To prove it fresh from the river.
He cut it short, did the great god Pan,
(How tall it stood in the river!)
Then drew the pith, like the heart of a man,
Steadily from the outside ring,
And notched the poor dry empty thing
In holes, as he sat by the river.
'This is the way,' laughed the great god Pan
(Laughed while he sat by the river),
'The only way, since gods began
To make sweet music, they could succeed.'
Then, dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed,
He blew in power by the river.
Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan!
Piercing sweet by the river!
Blinding sweet, O great god Pan!
The sun on the hill forgot to die,
And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly
Came back to dream on the river.
Yet half a beast is the great god Pan,
To laugh as he sits by the river,
Making a poet out of a man:
The true gods sigh for the cost and pain, --
For the reed which grows nevermore again
As a reed with the reeds in the river.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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On Alarm
You said he was your brother
But his name was not miller
So if you wanna cheat me, baby
Youre getting a real killer
Im on alarm now baby
Be sure Ill get you if I want
Im on alarm now baby
Be sure Ill get you if I want
You said your dad is working
And you think your mothers too
But I dont love your parents
So I cant belive you
Im on alarm now baby
Be sure Ill get you if I want
Im on alarm now baby
Be sure Ill get you if I want
Im on alarm now baby
Be sure Ill get you if I want
Im on alarm - (hes on alarm)...
song performed by by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Functionality....
ah, the natives here
do not just watch the beauty of the tall ferns
by the side of the river
it is not just the waterfalls
and the vines
they are bringing baskets
gathering those ferns
as salad for breakfast.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A great novel is concerned primarily with the interior lives of its characters as they respond to the inconvenient narratives that fate imposes on them. Movie adaptations of these monumental fictions often fail because they become mere exercises in interior decoration.
quote by Richard Schickel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dear Love, Do You Remember?
Dearest one, do you remember,
As we sat side by side,
How you told me that you loved me,
Asked me to be your bride.
And you told me we'd be happy,
Through all the years to come,
If we ever would prove faithful,
As in the days when we were young.
Oh! how well do I remember,
The kind and loving words,
And now as I sat dreaming,
The thoughts my memory stirs.
But the days have passed before me,
And the scenes of long ago,
But I can never forget the
Days that have passed o'er.
Oh! how clearly I remember
The days when we were young,
How we would tell to each other
Of happy times to come,
And as we would sit together,
That dear loved one and I,
Oh, sat dreaming of the future,
And childhood days gone by.
Dearest love, do you remember
The first time that we met --
Our youthful days have gone, love,
I hope you love me yet,
Now we are growing old, love,
Our heads will soon be gray,
May we ever love each other
Till from earth we pass away.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Eight Minutes To One
In the early hours the radio alarm
went off at eight minutes to one
despite me setting it earlier for six
and checking that it was on.
Now wide awake I rechecked the setting;
and I had definitely made no mistake.
I put it down to an electrical malfunction
and fell asleep until it was time to wake.
I didn’t think any more about the alarm
and continued with my normal day.
The alarm was already set for six o’clock
so I went to bed in the usual way.
At eight minutes to one the alarm went off
exactly the same time as the previous night.
Again I checked on my alarm settings
and again everything was set right.
This time I unplugged the whole radio unit
and recalibrated the time and alarm.
I was now happy that all would be okay
and fell asleep relaxed and calm.
The following night I went to bed as usual
and slept until eight minutes to one.
The cursed radio alarm went off again,
so this radio’s days were done.
The next day I bought an electrical travel clock
and tried out the alarm there and then.
It worked like a charm and I was very pleased,
so that night I went to bed at ten.
At eight minutes to one the alarm went off again
and I could hardly believe this to be true.
I was faced with a problem that had to be sorted,
and a mechanical clock should do.
I bought a large brass, twin belled wind up clock;
set the alarm and several times tried it out.
That night I retired expecting a good night’s sleep,
with no electrics to care about.
At eight minutes to one the alarm went off,
and I threw the clock against the wall.
I was now convinced something supernatural
was causing the earlier morning call.
Over the next few days I tried several clocks
and the alarms went off the same.
In the end I didn’t have a clock in the room,
and I never will again.
poem by Orlando Belo
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The Man Beside Me
now we are sailing on a
bamboo raft
floating on a silk river
bound to the other
side
except for the man
with a long bamboo pole
to touch the floor
and push us more
there is this man
beside me murmuring
his face is covered
by the shadow of his
big straw hat
the natives respect
him thinking that he
is god sent
knowing the words of
the mountain gods
who give them rain
after the drought
he chatters the song
of the cicadas
he murmurs the heaves
of the rain
finally he stops and
hands in the silence
of the rocks
that protrude in the
middle of the river
the waters rise
flood rages on
and i begin to hear
another song
of the incoming storm
then we arrive at the other
side of the river
this time we have become
one in the fold of the
fury asking the protection
of the mountain's belly
the morning news shall
tell about two men who
are fuming the seeds of
discontent of the plains
and the city
we have no names here
just coincidences
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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See You On The Other Side
Voices, a thousand, thousand voices
Whispering, the time has passed for choices
Golden days are passing over, yeah
I cant seem to see you baby
Although my eyes are open wide
But I know Ill see you once more
When I see you, Ill see you on the other side
Yes, Ill see you, Ill see you on the other side
Leaving, I hate to see you cry
Grieving, I hate to say goodbye
Dust and ash forever, yeah
Though I know we mus be parted
As sure as stars are in the sky
Im gonna see when it comes to glory
And Ill see you, Ill see you on the other side
Yes Ill see you, Ill see you on the other side
Never thought Id feel like this
Strange to be alone, yeah
But well be together
Carved in stone, carved in stone, carved in stone
Hold me, hold me thight, Im falling
Far away. distant voices calling
Im so cold. I need you darling, yeah
I was down, but now Im flying
Straight across the great divide
I know youre crying, but Ill stop you crying
When I see you, I see you on the other side
Yes. Ill see you. see you on the othe side
Im gonna see you. see you on the other side
God knows Ill see you, see you on the other side, yeah
Ill see you. see you on the othe side
Im gonna see you. see you on the other side
God knows Ill see you, see you on the other side, yeah
I wanna see you, yeah, yeah, yeah, see you on the other side
God knows Ill see you, see you on the other side, yeah
Im gonna see you. see you on the other side
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Year
IT PASSED like the breath of the night-wind away,
It fled like a mist at the dawn of the day;
It lasted its moment, then backward was hurled,
Another increase to the age of the world.
It passed with its shadows, its smiles and its tears,
It passed as a stream to the ocean of years;
Years that were coming—were here—and are o’er,
The ages departed to visit no more.
It passed, but the bark on its billowy track
Leaves an impression on waters aback:
The glow of the gloaming remains on the sky,
Unwilling to leave us—unwilling to die.
It fled; but away and away in its wake
There lingers a something that time cannot break.
The past and the future are joined by a chain,
And memories live that must ever remain.
poem by Henry Kendall
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The Land of Story-Books
At evening when the lamp is lit,
Around the fire my parents sit;
They sit at home and talk and sing,
And do not play at anything.
Now, with my little gun, I crawl
All in the dark along the wall,
And follow round the forest track
Away behind the sofa back.
There, in the night, where none can spy,
All in my hunter's camp I lie,
And play at books that I have read
Till it is time to go to bed.
These are the hills, these are the woods,
These are my starry solitudes;
And there the river by whose brink
The roaring lions come to drink.
I see the others far away
As if in firelit camp they lay,
And I, like to an Indian scout,
Around their party prowled about.
So when my nurse comes in for me,
Home I return across the sea,
And go to bed with backward looks
At my dear land of Story-books.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Yarra Flats
A spieler came to Yarra Glen upon the Yarra flats;
He wore a suit of noisy cheeks and something cute in hats.
He was a wicked man, they say,
Such as they grow down Melbourne way.
A spieler gay,
From Melbourne way,
Who sought for Yarra flats.
He taught them an amusing trick with three elusive cards;
But with suspicion such vain things the Yarra flat regards.
And then, with fingers mighty quick,
He tried them with the thimble trick.
A nimble trick,
The thimble trick,
As tricky as the cards.
But still the stolid natives stood, and let him have his say,
But always changed the subject when he wanted them to play.
They were not parting with their 'dough.'
'But now,' said they, 'give us a show.
We'll do a trick,
The river trick,
The only trick we know.
'We'll bet you fifty pounds,' they said, 'that we produce a man
Who'll throw you clean across the river Yarra - and he can
Right where the stream is swift and wide
And land you on the other side.'
'I call your bluff!
Put up the stuff!'
The spieler chap replied.
They led him to the river bank - the day was bleak and cold
And on his collar and his pants their strong man took a hold.
He swung him once, he swung him twice
(The strong man's grip was like a vice)
Then, with a flop,
He let him dropp
The stream was cold as ice.
The spieler scrambled to the bank. 'I've won!' he cried. 'I've won!'
'Get out!' the simple natives jeered. 'Our strong man hasn't done.
He's only tried it once, you fool!
He's going to try again. Keep cool.'
'I've done my dash;
You take the cash,'
The spieler said: 'I'm full.'
The spieler went from Yarra Glen; his clothes were dripping wet.
'These are,' he murmured brokenly, 'the fliest flats I've met.'
And, as the natives saw him off,
They cheered him on with shout and scoff;
'We're all strong men
In Yarra Glen,
But Yarra flats are off!'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Lullaby To An Old Enemy
What is this river I see before me?
The natives tell me is the great sea of old
That old sea on which many battles have been fought
And many precious lives lost
Lost to untimely graves to return no more
Many stories grandpa did tell me
For a great sailor he was and a soldier as well
Defending our land on the deadly waters
When I am sixteen shall I take to his works
To fight both sea and man
Or with the King’s daughter will I sit and watch it
To sing lullaby to an old enemy
My heart seeks warmth but my pride battle
What would I do?
That I would do, I do not know
poem by Nicholas Boateng
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The River
She fell in love with a lover boy
In the old days I would walk alone
Any other day not disturbing
While the others roamed
And I listened to her song
But would walk on the other side
Wed be lonely, blue and lonely
Then she fell in love with another one
I was older now, and followed a path
She had learned to be cool, to be caring
And I thought I should say
Its too much just to be
But not enough for the life of me
To be lonely, blue and lonely
Thats when the river ran dry
Thats when the river was all but a spill
Thats when the river ran dry
Every soul on the shore
Without sail, without will
She said her saviour was soon to come
From a long way, to bring back the girl he once knew
To be true and all loving
In the very best ways
And I listened to her song
But would walk on the other side
Wed be lonely, blue and lonely
Thats when the river ran dry
Thats when the river was all but a spill
Thats when the river ran dry
Every soul on the shore
Without sail, without will
If time were a second
If life were a moment that once stood still
Id leave it untattered, untouched, until
But its too much just to be
But not enough for the life of me
To be lonely, blue and lonely
She fell in love with a lover boy
In the old days, I would walk alone
Any other day not disturbing
And I listened to her song
But would walk on the other side
Wed be lonely, blue and lonely
Thats when the river ran dry
Thats when the river was all but a spill
Thats when the river ran dry
Every soul on the shore
Without sail, without will
And I knew it before, and I do know it still
song performed by by Verve Pipe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heir Apparent
I came back to my old city
With fierce determination
And I couldnt find my way out of the station
Its all changed
You were there
Departing, starting
A trek I had once took
With that no-ones gonna stop me when I feel this way look
Apparent, apparent
Heir apparent
You think its so easy, I tell you - it isnt
But you may change minds with your winning smile
I fell down in my old city
Such sad degradation
So I tried to make my way back to the station
You were still there
Gleaming and leaving
Wide-eyed and awestruck
Saying how can anybody hate me
If I love them first off ?
Apparent, apparent
Heir apparent
You think its so easy, I tell you - it isnt
But you may change minds with your winning smile
Heir, heir, heir
Heir, heir, heir
Heir, heir, heir
Heir, heir, heir
But you may be ok, I dont know
Ill see you back here
In a few bruised years
Pray
Ill see you here
Ill see you here
Ill see you here
Apparent, apparent
Heir apparent
You say that you want it, Im sure that youll get it
Theyll seduce your heart and then theyll slap your arse
Heir, heir, heir
Heir, heir, heir
Heir, heir, heir
Heir, heir, heir
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Before the Battle
Music of whispering trees
Hushed by a broad-winged breeze
Where shaken water gleams;
And evening radiance falling
With reedy bird-notes calling.
O bear me safe through dark, you low-voiced streams.
I have no need to pray
That fear may pass away;
I scorn the growl and rumble of the fight
That summons me from cool
Silence of marsh and pool
And yellow lilies is landed in light
O river of stars and shadows, lead me through the night.
June 25th, 1916.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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The Opposite Begins
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
That one agitated,
Finds an exit and splits.
People known to create conflict,
Seek an attention they don't get...
Until,
The opposite begins.
Opposition steps in.
They pretend a trust to believe,
To have others perceive but...
The opposite begins,
For them.
Wake up and take notice,
That the opposite begins for them.
Those who charade innocence.
The opposite begins for them.
Those masking evil intent.
The opposite begins for them.
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
Well,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
And...
That one agitated,
Finds an exit and splits.
But then,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
That one who's had it,
Splits and runs into love...
To know the opposite begins,
When someone genuine comes in...
To view.
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
Well,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
And...
That one who's had it,
Splits and runs into love...
To know the opposite begins,
When someone genuine comes in...
To view.
They want it quick.
And...
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
To then see someone who genuinely fits,
Well...
The opposite begins pursued.
Oh yes it does.
An opposite begins pursued.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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