The Good Ship Benevolent
Fomenting a fervor and stirring the bones
Ensnaring the sirens with songs from his lips
In voice of contralto or bass baritone
The dashing corsair in splendiferous ship.
A weathered and feathered, half woman half bird
Chimera admired his masterly spark
And breadth of his vision the first time she heard
The quick-witted salt in his broad-bottomed barque.
So lashing her limbs to the limb of a tree
To steady herself from the force of his throat
She listened with mixture of shock, awe and glee
To talented tar in his seaworthy boat.
Then plucking a shellfish she flew to a tor
And wielding a talon, proceeded to shuck it
One beady red eye on his exploits galore
The bold buccaneer in his barnacled bucket.
poem by Diane Hine
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Related quotes
Intentions~
Chimera knows about the dark side of the moon
Chimera knows many incantations
Chimera knows evil like the back of her hand
Chimera knows sadistic and savagery raise her
Chimera knows toxic pleases her
Chimera knows destruction is her favorite compulsion
Chimera knows that all the good desserts she prepares
Are best served up cold
Chimera's cheesecake is KILLER
Yes, Chimera knows
poem by Theodora Onken
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July 15th,1991 Poem
Half gone;
half thru...
Half baked;
Simmer blue
Thumbing through
a book of
blank
pages
Feeling frustration
consternation
Beginnings end
the same,
As a numbness
Creeps into my brain
Buries the pain
and the past
but at what price,
all tomorrows due
Sort of barnacled upon
The high tide postmark of life
poem by Midnights Voice
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The Bold Buccaneer
One very rough day on the Pride of the Fray
In the scuppers a poor little cabin-boy lay,
When the Bosun drew nigh with wrath in his eye
And gave him a kick to remember him by,
As he cried with a sneer: “What good are you here?
Go home to your mammy, my bold buccaneer.”
Now the Captain beheld, and his pity upwelled:
With a plug in the peeper the Bosun he felled.
With humility grand he extended his hand
And helped the poor lad, who was weeping, to stand,
As he cried: “Have no fear; I'm the manager here.
Take heart, and you'll yet be a bold buccaneer.”
But how he did flare when the lad then and there
Doffed his cap and shook down a gold banner of hair.
Though his movements were shy, he'd a laugh in his eye,
And he sank on the Captain's broad breast with a sigh,
As he cried: “Is it queer that I've followed you here?
I'm your sweetheart from Bristol, my bold buccaneer.”
On an isle in the west, by the breezes caressed,
The bold buccaneer has a warm little nest,
And he sits there in state amid pieces of eight
And tackles his rum with a manner elate,
As he cries: “O my dear little cabin-boy, here
Is a toast to the babe of the bold buccaneer!”
poem by John Le Gay Brereton
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In a Museum
I
Here's the mould of a musical bird long passed from light,
Which over the earth before man came was winging;
There's a contralto voice I heard last night,
That lodges with me still in its sweet singing.
II
Such a dream is Time that the coo of this ancient bird
Has perished not, but is blent, or will be blending
Mid visionless wilds of space with the voice that I heard,
In the full-fuged song of the universe unending.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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The Cuckoo
The cuckoo, like a hawk in flight,
With narrow pointed wings
Whews o'er our heads - soon out of sight
And as she flies she sings:
And darting down the hedgerow side
She scares the little bird
Who leaves the nest it cannot hide
While plaintive notes are heard.
I've watched it on an old oak tree
Sing half an hour away
Until its quick eye noticed me
And then it whewed away.
Its mouth when open shone as red
As hips upon the brier,
Like stock doves seemed its winged head
But striving to get higher
It heard me rustle and above leaves
Soon did its flight pursue,
Still waking summer's melodies
And singing as it flew.
So quick it flies from wood to wood
'Tis miles off 'ere you think it gone;
I've thought when I have listening stood
Full twenty sang - when only one.
When summer from the forest starts
Its melody with silence lies,
And, like a bird from foreign parts,
It cannot sing for all it tries.
'Cuck cuck' it cries and mocking boys
Crie 'Cuck' and then it stutters more
Till quick forgot its own sweet voice
It seems to know itself no more.
poem by John Clare
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The Boat I Sail
I'm looking into a picture of a turbulent stormy sea,
And imagining I am battling against its wild fury.
The winds are whipping cruelly around the boat I sail,
Lashing it with salt spray, hurricane and gale.
The waves are rising skywards, fifty feet or more,
And I can hardly see at all, in this violent downpour,
Clouds are dark and heavy, rumblings can be heard,
But in the midst of this cacophony, I spy no living bird.
It's as if the world is angry, stirring up a fearful fight,
I try to hold the craft on course, struggling in my plight,
The ocean is never static, it is restess all the while,
Forever in perpetual motion, and constantly hostile.
I stand back now from the image, of power uncontrolled,
The painter creates a vision that's forceful, strong and bold,
He has captured all the terror, the brutality of the deep,
In just a few deft brush strokes, this drama begins to seep.
Into my mind, and whilst dreaming, a fantasy can start,
About being heroic and daring, fearless, brave and smart.
Such a confrontation here, between me and the water's rage,
Thinking I could possibly, such ill humour, thus assuage.
But I know I would wait forever to see calmness in this scene,
For it is a painting, sealed in time, and could never be serene.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Half The World
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Half the world hates
What half the world does every day
Half the world waits
While half gets on with it anyway
Half the world lives
Half the world makes
Half the world gives
While the other half takes
Half the world is
Half the world was
Half the world thinks
While the other half does
Half the world talks
With half a mind on what they say
Half the world walks
With half a mind to run away
Half the world lies
Half the world learns
Half the world flies
As half the world turns
Half the world cries
Half the world laughs
Half the world tries
To be the other half
Half of us divided like a torn-up photograph half of us are
Trying to reach the other half
Half the world cares
While half the world is wasting the day
Half the world shares
While half the world is stealing away
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Half The World
Half the world lives,
Half the world makes,
Half the world gives
While the other half takes.
Half the world hates,
Half the world runs away,
Half the world's late,
Half the world praises the day.
Half the world is,
Half the world was,
Half the world thinks,
Half the world does.
Half the world lies,
Half the world burns,
Half the world cries
While the other half turns.
Half the world cares,
Half the world weeps,
Half the world shares,
Half the world keeps.
Half the world sings,
Half the world laughs,
Half the world brings,
Half the world tries to be the other half.
End.
Paddington Ear
alone
i made
a call
home
far away
from platform
one
& found
upon
my phone
a family
(half
asleep)
in bed
one half
my wife
one half
my son
& spoke
to both
a wife
i once
(or twice)
had listened
to
(or more)
a son
i heard
now speak
who wouldn’t
speak before
today it was
the first time
that my son
would speak
today
the first time
i would hear
him speak
today
i heard
my son
speak
today
i heard
my son.
13.iii.08 London Paddington
poem by Andrew Fincham
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Interlude
Mid this hot green glowing gloom
A word falls with a raindrop's boom...
Like baskets of ripe fruit in air
The bird-songs seem, suspended where
Those goldfinches--the ripe warm lights
Peck slyly at them--take quick flights.
My feet are feathered like a bird
Among the shadows scarcely heard;
I bring you branches green with dew
And fruits that you may crown anew
Your whirring waspish-gilded hair
Amid this cornucopia--
Until your warm lips bear the stains
And bird-blood leap within your veins.
poem by Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell
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The Sermon of the Birds
I was clearing thirty or forty acres once
Out in the western range near Nightcap Mountain.
And as I was working, I heard a gathering of the crows
Singing out in a jungle gully. Their clamorous cries
Drawed the attention of all the other birds.
Jackass and butcher-bird, soldier-bird, sparrow-bird,
Scrub-robin, magpie, and the black and white cockatoo,
They all flew down to the crows in the jungle-gully.
And I followed after their clamour, and in the midst
Of all the splendid excitement of the birds
I heard one feller was singing above them all.
It was the lyre-bird, the mimic of all the scrub,
And they held this beautiful sermon or half an hour.
The birds would stop and listen a while but still
That beautiful voice, the lyre-bird, would keep on singing
And draw then and join them all to a chorus again.
And as I stood there and listened, the Scriptures was
Hitting me all the time. The sermon seemed
Like the prophecy when Christ shall come and summon
The birds, the valleys, the hills, the mountains and the ocean
To sing in praise of the grace and the reckoning day,
And the beauty of earth in the splendour that He crated.
And I went back and told my people of what I had seen,
And the sermon of praise I heard in the mountain range.
poem by Roland Robinson
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Rock Steady
Saw an ad in the newspaper that caught my eye
I said to my baby this sounds like a ticket for you and i
It said volunteers wanted for a very special trip
To commune with mother nature on a big wooden ship
We took a taxi to the river in case any places were free
There was an old guy with a beard
And every kind of creature as far as the eye could see
This old guy was the boss, he said,
i wont tell you no lie
But theres more to this journey that is apparent to the eye
He said hed heard gods message on the radio
It was going to rain forever and hed told him to go
Ill protect you all dont worry Ill be a father to you all
Ill save two of every animal, no matter how small
But Ill need some assistants to look after the zoo
I cant see nobody better so youll just have to do
I said, just tell me something before its too late and were gone
I mean just how safe is this boat well be on?
its rock steady rock steady
Rock steady rock steady
Rock steady rock steady
Rock steady rock steady
It rained for forty days and forty long nights
Id never seen rain like it and it looked like our old friend
Was being proved right
We had no time to worry though there was just to much to do
Between the signified monkey and the kangaroo
We had to wash all the animals we had to feed them too
We were merely human slaves in a big floating zoo
She said, hey baby I dont mean to be flip
But it seems this old man is on some power trip
I said, no, no sugar you must be wrong
I mean look at the size of this boat were on.
Were as safe as houses, as safe as mothers milk
Hes as cool as november and as smooth as china silk
Hes gods best friend, hes got a seat on the board
And life may be tough but were sailing with the lord.
Rock steady rock steady
Rock steady rock steady
Rock steady rock steady
Rock steady rock steady
Woke up this morning and something had changed
Like a room in my house had just been rearranged
She said, its stopped raining and I know the guys kind
But if we stay here much longer Im gonna lose my mind.
So we said we had a mission for his favourite dove
To see if there was any mercy from this great God above
So to find dry land, away the white bird flew
We didnt need no country just a rock would do
When the dove came back to us, he threw down a twig
It was manna from heaven and meant we could blow this gig
but the rocks too small, he said, cant you see?
I said, its just perfect for her, its perfect for me.
Rock steady rock steady
Rock steady rock steady
Rock steady rock steady
Rock steady rock steady
Rock steady rock steady
Rock steady rock steady
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Need A Mess Of Help To Stand Alone
I need a breeze blowing softly
To keep my wind vane from standing
I need a whole lot of sunshine
To keep my sundial advancing
I need some soil fore my grass will grow
I need some spark to make my candle glow
Relief I cried
Aint no shuck n jive
I need a mess of help to stand alone
I need a spark by a fire
To stop the cold of my winter
I need a burst of your raindrops
To keep a flow in my river
I need a call for my phone will ring
I need your song for my voice will sing
Please realize
Im not half alive
Without a mess of help to stand alone
(she dont know me)
(she dont know it)
(she dont know)
(she dont know me)
(she dont know it)
(she dont know)
(she dont know me)
(she dont know it)
(she dont know me)
(she dont know it)
(she dont know)
(she dont know me)
(she dont know it)
(she dont know)
(she dont know me)
(she dont know it)
I need the warmth of your smile
To heat my frostbitten sorrow
I need your hand on my shoulder
To lead todays to tomorrows
I need your strength to lock me to the track
I need your trust to bust the things I lack
Belief I cried
Aint no shuck n jive
I need a mess of help to stand alone
(she dont know me)
(she dont know it)
(she dont know)
(she dont know me)
(she dont know it)
(she dont know)
(she dont know me)
(she dont know it)
(she dont know me)
(she dont know it)
(she dont know)
(she dont know me)
(she dont know it)
(she dont know)
(she dont know me)
(she dont know it)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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By Our Will There Springs
by our will
there springs
our fatigue-
able days
an ever work-
man's limb
lays dead
half-spirited
half-spent life
of industry
what's left
by our will
we feel
half-dead
down midnight's moon
and howl-
complain
of our will
by the day
and no one but me
who thanks
my broken limb
poem by R. Absalom Catarata
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The Voice
One feather is a bird,
I claim; one tree, a wood;
In her low voice I heard
More than a mortal should;
And so I stood apart,
Hidden in my own heart.
And yet I roamed out where
Those notes went, like the bird,
Whose thin song hung in air,
Diminished, yet still heard:
I lived with open sound,
Aloft, and on the ground.
That ghost was my own choice,
The shy cerulean bird;
It sang with her true voice,
And it was I who heard
A slight voice reply;
I heard; and only I.
Desire exults the ear:
Bird, girl, and ghostly tree,
The earth, the solid air--
Their slow song sang in me;
The long noon pulsed away,
Like any summer day.
poem by Theodore Roethke
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Bucket T
Bucket bucket t t, bucket t bucket t,
Bucket bucket t t, bucket t bucket t,
Bucket bucket t t, bucket t bucket t,
Found her in a barn in tennessee
I paid five bucks for my bucket t
Took me three years of sweat and blood
To clean off all that tennessee mud
Chorus:
My bucket t (bucket t)
Bucket t (bucket t)
My bucket t (bucket t)
My bucket t (bucket t)
T t t... bucket bucket bucket...
Cruise down the street in front of school
I wanna rev it up but I gotta be cool
Drivin down the road Ill get my kicks
Apoppin the clutch and aslippin the sticks
[chorus]
I was right, too, shes first in her class
Theres nothing on the freeway she dont pass
All the girls want to take a ride with me
But theres only one seat in my bucket t
[chorus]
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Collision in the English Channel
'Twas on a Sunday morning, and in the year of 1888,
The steamer "Saxmundham," laden with coal and coke for freight,
Was run into amidships by the Norwegian barque "Nor,"
And sunk in the English Channel, while the storm fiend did roar.
She left Newcastle on Friday, in November, about two o'clock,
And proceeded well on her way until she received a shock;
And the effects of the collision were so serious within,
That, within twenty minutes afterwards, with water she was full to the brim.
The effects of the collision were so serious the water cduldn't be staunched,
So immediately the "Saxmundham's" jolly-boat was launched;
While the brave crew were busy, and loudly did clatter,
Because, at this time, the stem of the steamer was under water.
Then the bold crew launched the lifeboat, without dismay,
While their hearts did throb, but not a word did they say;
They they tried to launch the port lifeboat, but in that they failed,
Owing to the heavy sea, so their sad fate they bewailed.
Then into the jolly-boat and lifeboat jumped fifteen men in all,
And immediately the steamer foundered, which did their hearts appal,
As the good ship sank beneath the briny wave,
But they thanked God fervently that did them save.
Oh! it was a miracle how any of them were saved,
But it was by the aid of God, and how the crew behaved;
Because God helps those that help themselves,
And those that don't try to do so are silly elves.
So the two boats cruised about for some time,
Before it was decided to pull for St. Catherine;
And while cruising about they must have been ill,
But they succeeded in picking up an engineer and fireman, also Captain Milne.
And at daybreak on Sunday morning the men in the lifeboat
Were picked up by the schooner "Waterbird" as towards her they did float,
And landed at Weymouth, and made all right
By the authorities, who felt for them in their sad plight.
But regarding the barque "Nor," to her I must return,
And, no doubt, for the drowned men, many will mourn;
Because the crew's sufferings must have been great,
Which, certainly, is soul-harrowing to relate.
The ill-fated barque was abandoned in a sinking state,
But all her crew were saved, which I'm happy to relate;
They were rescued by the steamer "Hagbrook" in the afternoon,
When after taking to their boats, and brought to Portland very soon.
The barque "Nor" was bound from New York to Stettin,
And when she struck the "Saxmundham," oh! what terrible din!
Because the merciless water did rush in,
Then the ship carpenters to patch the breach did begin.
But, alas! all their efforts proved in vain,
For still the water did on them gain;
Still they resolved to save her whatever did betide,
But, alas! the ill-fated "Nor" sank beneath the tide.
But thanks be to God, the major part of the men have been saved,
And all honour to both crews that so manfully behaved;
And may God protect the mariner by night and by day
When on the briny deep, far, far away!
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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The Return of Morgan and Fingal
And there we were together again—
Together again, we three:
Morgan, Fingal, fiddle, and all,
They had come for the night with me.
The spirit of joy was in Morgan’s wrist,
There were songs in Fingal’s throat;
And secure outside, for the spray to drench,
Was a tossed and empty boat.
And there were the pipes, and there was the punch,
And somewhere were twelve years;
So it came, in the manner of things unsought,
That a quick knock vexed our ears.
The night wind hovered and shrieked and snarled,
And I heard Fingal swear;
Then I opened the door—but I found no more
Than a chalk-skinned woman there.
I looked, and at last, “What is it?” I said—
“What is it that we can do?”
But never a word could I get from her
But “You—you three—it is you!”
Now the sense of a crazy speech like that
Was more than a man could make;
So I said, “But we—we are what, we three?”
And I saw the creature shake.
“Be quick!” she cried, “for I left her dead—
And I was afraid to come;
But you, you three—God made it be—
Will ferry the dead girl home.
“Be quick! be quick!—but listen to that
Who is that makes it?—hark!”
But I heard no more than a knocking splash
And a wind that shook the dark.
“It is only the wind that blows,” I said,
“And the boat that rocks outside.”
And I watched her there, and I pitied her there—
“Be quick! be quick!” she cried.
She cried so loud that her voice went in
To find where my two friends were;
So Morgan came, and Fingal came,
And out we went with her.
’T was a lonely way for a man to take
And a fearsome way for three;
And over the water, and all day long,
They had come for the night with me.
But the girl was dead, as the woman had said,
And the best we could see to do
Was to lay her aboard. The north wind roared,
And into the night we flew.
Four of us living and one for a ghost,
Furrowing crest and swell,
Through the surge and the dark, for that faint far spark,
We ploughed with Azrael.
Three of us ruffled and one gone mad,
Crashing to south we went;
And three of us there were too spattered to care
What this late sailing meant.
So down we steered and along we tore
Through the flash of the midnight foam:
Silent enough to be ghosts on guard.
We ferried the dead girl home.
We ferried her down to the voiceless wharf,
And we carried her up to the light;
And we left the two to the father there,
Who counted the coals that night.
Then back we steered through the foam again,
But our thoughts were fast and few;
And all we did was to crowd the surge
And to measure the life we knew;—
Till at last we came where a dancing gleam
Skipped out to us, we three,—
And the dark wet mooring pointed home
Like a finger from the sea.
Then out we pushed the teetering skiff
And in we drew to the stairs;
And up we went, each man content
With a life that fed no cares.
Fingers were cold and feet were cold,
And the tide was cold and rough;
But the light was warm, and the room was warm,
And the world was good enough.
And there were the pipes, and there was the punch,
More shrewd than Satan’s tears:
Fingal had fashioned it, all by himself,
With a craft that comes of years.
And there we were together again—
Together again, we three:
Morgan, Fingal, fiddle, and all,
They were there for the night with me.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Get Stiff Quick
When your backbone bends,
And your vision dims...
You've got to,
Get stiff.
Get stiff quick.
When you know you need to move,
From foolish doers...
Get stiff.
Get stiff quick.
No need to put up more with that funky stuff.
You've got to,
Get stiff.
Get stiff quick.
No need to ride a roller coaster,
You know was tough.
No need to do a shuffle singing those sad songs.
Or get along with others you wish from you gone!
Just,
Get stiff.
Get stiff quick.
You've got to,
Get stiff.
Get stiff quick!
When your backbone bends,
And your vision dims...
You've got to,
Get stiff.
Get stiff quick.
Mean what you say and be done with it.
You've got to,
Get stiff...
Get stiff quick!
Don't let just anything fall from your lips.
Or bite your tongue to let an old patience sit.
When you wish to make a point you know wont quit.
You've got to,
Get stiff.
Get stiff quick.
You've got to,
Get stiff.
Get stiff quick.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Half A Man
This big old queen was standing on the corner of the street he waved his hanky at me as I went rolling by I pulled the truck up on the sidewalk and I climbed down from the cab with my tire-chain
My knife as I approached him he was trembling like a bird I raised the chain above my head he said, please, before you kill me might I have one final word? and this is what he said:
;i am but half a man, half a man Id like to be a dancer but Im much too large half a man, half a man Im an object for your pity not your rage oh, the strangest feelings sweeping over m
H my speech and manner have become much more refined I said, oh, what is this feeling? what is wrong with me? she said, girl, it happens all the time and you are half a m
Alf a man look, youre walking and youre talking like a fag. half a man, I am half a man holy jesus, what a drag
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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