Adam Weirauch
I was crushed between Altgeld and Armour.
I lost many friends, much time and money
Fighting for Altgeld whom Editor Whedon
Denounced as the candidate of gamblers and anarchists.
Then Armour started to ship dressed meat to Spoon River,
Forcing me to shut down my slaughter-house,
And my butcher shop went all to pieces.
The new forces of Altgeld and Armour caught me
At the same time.
I thought it due me, to recoup the money I lost
And to make good the friends that left me,
For the Governor to appoint me Canal Commissioner.
Instead he appointed Whedon of the Spoon River Argus,
So I ran for the legislature and was elected.
I said to hell with principle and sold my vote
On Charles T. Yerkes' street-car franchise.
Of course I was one of the fellows they caught.
Who was it, Armour, Altgeld or myself
That ruined me?
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Related quotes
Magrady Graham
Tell me, was Altgeld elected Governor?
For when the returns began to come in
And Cleveland was sweeping the East,
It was too much for you, poor old heart,
Who had striven for democracy
In the long, long years of defeat.
And like a watch that is worn
I felt you growing slower until you stopped.
Tell me, was Altgeld elected,
And what did he do?
Did they bring his head on a platter to a dancer,
Or did he triumph for the people?
For when I saw him
And took his hand,
The child-like blueness of his eyes
Moved me to tears,
And there was an air of eternity about him,
Like the cold, clear light that rests at dawn
On the hills!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Metempsychosis [Once with Christ he entered Salem]
Once with Christ he entered Salem,
Once in Moab bullied Balaam,
Once by Apuleius staged
He the pious much enraged.
And, again, his head, as beaver,
Topped the neck of Nick the Weaver.
Omar saw him (minus tether
Free and wanton as the weather:
Knowing naught of bit or spur)
Stamping over Bahram-Gur.
Now, as Altgeld, see him joy
As Governor of Illinois!
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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The Helmet of Salvation
The Scriptures warn us of the war that good and evil fight,
That's why God's judgements must outpour if we don't do what's right.
Yet those God saves, by Heaven's grace, whom Jesus calls His Own,
Will one day meet Him face-to-face, in Heaven on His Throne.
For now, the Earthly war exists, yet God grants armour here.
So that each Christian soul resists, to conquer, not to fear.
The Helmet of Salvation's worn until the Devil's gone,
So every one who's been reborn, please put your armour on.
Without God's armour, lives are lost, our heads are fragile things.
In accidents, our heads are tossed. More injury this brings.
Salvation thus prepares the path, the road that we must take.
Sometimes to spare the aftermath that accidents can make.
If we must move at awesome speeds by land or sea or air,
Remember that each body bleeds, sometimes beyond repair.
So wear God's armour every day, no matter hot or cold.
For each of us is mortal clay, much weaker when we're old.
One careless act can harm our faith, regardless of the past,
Despite the decades we were safe, praised God and weren't downcast.
So safety first, then do your best, help others safely through.
God's armour proves we can be blessed, the rest is up to you...
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2011.
We can watch Revelation TV on Sky UK and
the website's Watch Now Internet connection.
Website: revelationtv-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Place Where I Must Start
Looking for a fight.
I'm a rabid dog.
I just need to bite someone's head off.
Shattered our my thoughts.
In pieces oh how do I put them back together again.
Who are your friends?
Who are your enemies?
Their all dressed the same.
I don't have a clue.
I just feel so defenceless.
Where is my suit of armour?
Who will protect me from myself?
Who will break this spell?
Oh it feels like I'm in hell.
I'm looking down a well.
I wonder how far it goes.
But as everyone already knows.
All you have to do is climb on down.
But I'm afraid I might just drown.
A fear I must overcome.
I will not let it rule my heart.
And I guess it's the place where I must start.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Pale September
Pale september, I wore the time like a dress that year
The autumn days swung soft around me, like cotton on my skin
But as the embers of the summer lost their breath and disappeared
My heart went cold and only hollow rhythms resounded from within
But then he rose, brilliant as the moon in full
And sank in the burrows of my keep
And all my armour falling down, in a pile at my feet
And my winter giving way to warm, as Im singing him to sleep
He goes along just as a water lily
Gentle on the surface of his thoughts his body floats
Unweighted down by passion or intensity
Yet unaware of the depth upon which he coasts
And he finds a home in me
For what misfortune sows, he knows my touch will reap
And all my armour failing down, in a pile at my feet
And my winter giving way to warm, as Im singing him to sleep
All my armour falling down, in a pile at my feet
And my winter giving way to warm, as Im singing him to sleep
song performed by by Fiona Apple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Daisy Fraser
Did you ever hear of Editor Whedon
Giving to the public treasury any of the money he received
For supporting candidated for office?
Or for writing up the canning factory
To get people to invest?
Or for suppressing the facts about the bank,
When it was rotten and ready to break?
Did you ever hear of the Circuit Judge
Helping anyone except the "Q" railroad,
Or the bankers? Or did Rev. Peet or Rev. Sibley
Give any part of their salary, earned by keeping still,
Or speaking out as the leaders wished them to do,
To the building of the water works?
But I -- Daisy Fraser who always passed
Along the street through rows of nods and smiles,
And coughs and words such as "there she goes."
Never was taken before Justice Arnett
Without contributing ten dollars and costs
To the school fund of Spoon River!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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E.C. Culbertson
Is it true, Spoon River,
That in the hall-way of the New Court House
There is a tablet of bronze
Containing the embossed faces
Of Editor Whedon and Thomas Rhodes?
And is it true that my successful labors
In the County Board, without which
Not one stone would have been placed on another,
And the contributions out of my own pocket
To build the temple, are but memories among the people,
Gradually fading away, and soon to descend
With them to this oblivion where I lie?
In truth, I can so believe.
For it is a law of the Kingdom of Heaven
That whoso enters the vineyard at the eleventh hour
Shall receive a full day's pay.
And it is a law of the Kingdom of this World
That those who first oppose a good work
Seize it and make it their own,
When the corner-stone is laid,
And memorial tablets are erected.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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That money talks, I'll not deny, I heard it once: It said, 'Goodbye'.
quote by Richard Armour
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Knight Whose Armour Didn't Squeak
Of all the Knights in Appledore
The wisest was Sir Thomas Tom.
He multiplied as far as four,
And knew what nine was taken from
To make eleven. He could write
A letter to another Knight.
No other Knight in all the land
Could do the things which he could do.
Not only did he understand
The way to polish swords, but knew
What remedy a Knight should seek
Whose armour had begun to squeak.
And, if he didn't fight too much,
It wasn't that he didn't care
For blips and buffetings and such,
But felt that it was hardly fair
To risk, by frequent injuries,
A brain as delicate as his.
His castle (Castle Tom) was set
Conveniently on a hill;
And daily, when it wasn't wet,
He paced the battlements until
Some smaller Knight who couldn't swim
Should reach the moat and challenge him.
Or sometimes, feeling full of fight,
He hurried out to scour the plain,
And, seeing some approaching Knight,
He either hurried home again,
Or hid; and, when the foe was past,
Blew a triumphant trumpet-blast.
One day when good Sir Thomas Tom
Was resting in a handy ditch,
The noises he was hiding from,
Though very much the noises which
He'd always hidden from before,
Seemed somehow less....Or was it more?
The trotting horse, the trumpet's blast,
The whistling sword, the armour's squeak,
These, and especially the last,
Had clattered by him all the week.
Was this the same, or was it not?
Something was different. But what?
Sir Thomas raised a cautious ear
And listened as Sir Hugh went by,
And suddenly he seemed to hear
(Or not to hear) the reason why
This stranger made a nicer sound
Than other Knights who lived around.
Sir Thomas watched the way he went -
His rage was such he couldn't speak,
For years they'd called him down in Kent
The Knight Whose Armour Didn't Squeak!
Yet here and now he looked upon
Another Knight whose squeak had gone.
He rushed to where his horse was tied;
He spurred it to a rapid trot.
The only fear he felt inside
About his enemy was not
'How sharp his sword?' 'How stout his heart?'
But 'Has he got too long a start?'
Sir Hugh was singing, hand on hip,
When something sudden came along,
And caught him a terrific blip
Right in the middle of his song.
'A thunderstorm!' he thought. 'Of course!'
And toppled gently off his horse.
Then said the good Sir Thomas Tom,
Dismounting with a friendly air,
'Allow me to extract you from
The heavy armour that you wear.
At times like these the bravest Knight
May find his armour much too tight.'
A hundred yards or so beyond
The scene of brave Sir Hugh's defeat
Sir Thomas found a useful pond,
And, careful not to wet his feet,
He brought the armour to the brink,
And flung it in...and watched it sink.
So ever after, more and more,
The men of Kent would proudly speak
Of Thomas Tom of Appledore,
'The Knight Whose Armour Didn't Squeak.'
Whilst Hugh, the Knight who gave him best,
Squeaks just as badly as the rest.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Jeduthan Hawley
There would be a knock at the door
And I would arise at midnight and go to the shop,
Where belated travelers would hear me hammering
Sepulchral boards and tacking satin.
And often I wondered who would go with me
To the distant land, our names the theme
For talk, in the same week, for I've observed
Two always go together.
Chase Henry was paired with Edith Conant;
And Jonathan Somers with Willie Metcalf;
And Editor Hamblin with Francis Turner,
When he prayed to live longer than Editor Whedon;
And Thomas Rhodes with widow McFarlane;
And Emily Sparks with Barry Holden;
And Oscar Hummel with Davis Matlock;
And Editor Whedon with Fiddler Jones;
And Faith Matheny with Dorcas Gustine.
And I, the solemnest man in town,
Stepped off with Daisy Fraser.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Pallas And Venus. An Epigram
The Trojan swain had judged the great dispute,
And beauty's power obtain'd the golden fruit,
When Venus, loose in all her naked charms,
Met Jove's great daughter clad in shining arms,
The wanton goddess view'd the warlike maid
From head to foot, and tauntingly she said;
Yield sister; rival, yield: naked, you see,
I vanquish: guess how potent I should be,
If to the field I came in armour dress'd,
Dreadful like thine my shield, and terrible my crest!
The warrior goddess with disdain replied,
Thy folly, child, is equal to thy pride:
Let a brave enemy for once advise,
And Venus (if 'tis possible) be wise:
Thou to be strong must put off every dress;
Thy only armour is thy nakedness;
And more than once (or thou art much belied)
By Mars himself that armour has been tried.
poem by Matthew Prior
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Armour and Amor
Now listen to me now
And to me pay attention
Sometimes the course of love
Needs a mother's intervention
Now listen to my tale
How some Armour old and rusty
Led Lass to discover
Love deep and true and lusty
One day while cleaning house
Mom found a coat of Armour
She didn't want the dusty thing
To clutter up her parlor
She made Lass take it back
And thats how Lass met Laddy
He was a big improvement
Over Tom and Dick and Harry
It worked out for the best
And thus did Lass acquire
A true love who's a knight-
She didn't settle for his squire.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Amos Sibley
Not character, not fortitude, not patience
Were mine, the which the village thought I had
In bearing with my wife, while preaching on,
Doing the work God chose for me.
I loathed her as a termagant, as a wanton.
I knew of her adulteries, every one.
But even so, if I divorced the woman
I must forsake the ministry.
Therefore to do God's work and have it crop,
I bore with her!
So lied I to myself!
So lied I to Spoon River!
Yet I tried lecturing, ran for the legislature,
Canvassed for books, with just the thought in mind:
If I make money thus, I will divorce her.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Removing armour
She said 'Dan,
you can't go on in life not trustin
youve gotta let people in
if you dont you'll never be lovin'
I hate to say that shes right
but she is
Im handing my heart armour
and I dont know how much more I can give
It isnt bullet proof
because love can break through
the armour.
Love.
It can tickle
It can pierce the skin
that feeling I fear can get in
when the truth appears
the blood that seeps
could be redeemed with my final tears,
thats if it reaches my heart
if it does it could create an end.
Or maybe begin a new start?
poem by Daniel McCann
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Odysseus
I saw him, a brave man, a king
standing tall at the helm
wearing the armour of great Achilles
carrying a great sword on his back
steering against a stormy wind
and renown among his own men
as the man whose plan made Troy fall
but beside him I saw a maiden
in gleaming armour, with lightning bolts
intertwining like snakes just below her breasts
with flowing long golden hair blowing like a flag
and in a ravaging sea they journey on
escaping the wrath of the waves, the storm
and the monsters that dwell in it.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Minefield
Thunder came from the grass
and open the earth split
tearing the wheels from a armoured car
and again the ear deafening roar
just as before lightening leaped
right from the ground
slicing at a battle tank
and then most of the armour
draw back to safe ground
and two officers went right in
through the battle din of machinegun
and tank canon
to extract a tank with a wounded man
while shrapnel fell and bullets screamed
across their heads
and at the craters edge repaired,
got that piece of armour moving again.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Just knock hell out of it with your right hand.
quote by Tommy Armour
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seth Compton
When I died, the circulating library
Which I built up for Spoon River,
And managed for the good of inquiring minds,
Was sold at auction on the public square,
As if to destroy the last vestige
Of my memory and influence.
For those of you who could not see the virtue
Of knowing Volney's "Ruins" as well as Butler's "Analogy"
And "Faust" as well as "Evangeline,"
Were really the power in the village,
And often you asked me,
"What is the use of knowing the evil in the world?"
I am out of your way now, Spoon River,
Choose your own good and call it good.
For I could never make you see
That no one knows what is good
Who knows not what is evil;
And no one knows what is true
Who knows not what is false.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Looking For A Hero
I don't need a man
Who thinks he's good for me
I don't need a man
Who's nice and charming
I don't need anything
That people warn me to me
I just need some help
When fears are harming
I'm looking for a hero
When hate is coming to thrill me
When love is trying to kill me
In the dark
Where my armour is broken
I'm looking for a hero
Who will keep me from falling
He's here in my life as a calling
When my hopes keep rewarding to zero
Will you be my hero
Your love must be a sword
Cutting through dark in me
Your thoughts must be a shield
That will protect me
Your dreams must be a towell
Where I can hide from the world
Your hope must be a guard
That won't reject me
I'm looking for a hero
When hate is coming to thrill me
When love is trying to kill me
In the dark
Where my armour is broken
I'm looking for a hero
Who will keep me from falling
He's here in my life as a calling
When my hopes keep rewarding to zero
Will you be my hero
So I don't need a man
Just though we're talking about now
Oh baby, I need you
If you're a fighter
I'm looking for a hero
When hate is coming to thrill me
When love is trying to kill me
In the dark
Where my armour is broken
I'm looking for a hero
Who will keep me from falling
He's here in my life as a calling
When my hopes keep rewarding to zero
Will you be my hero
Will you be my hero
song performed by by Vanilla Ninja
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Middle -age is the time of life, that a man first notices - in his wife.
quote by Richard Armour
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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