Tribute to W.E.Henley
Out of the night which covers me
Black as the pit from pole to pole.
I thank whatever Gods there be.
For my unconquerable soul.
Invictus. W.E.Henley 1849 -1903
A glosa
Out of the night that covers me.
I shall emerge into sunlight
The darkness holds no fears for me.
My goddess will preserve my sight.
Black as the pit from pole to pole
but I care not why should I fear
As I step out towards my goal.
Each pace I take brings it more near.
I thank whatever Gods there be
who reinforce my attitude.
I know they are protecting me.
I offer them my gratitude.
For my unconquerable soul.
I fear no foe no enemy
I have already paid the toll
the price which was required of me.
Tuesday,29 December 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A tribute to W.E.Henley 1849-1903
A tribute to W.E.Henley 1849-1903
Invictus.
Out of the night that covers me
dark as the pit from pole to pole.
I thank whatever Gods may be
for my unconquerable soul.
A Glosa
Out of the night that covers me.
I won’t relinquish my control
a man must challenge destiny.
To be the captain of his soul.
Black as the pit from pole to pole.
The darkness fails to frighten me,
I travel on towards my goal
pursue my quest relentlessly.
I thank whatever Gods may be
but I believe than on the whole.
That man has the ability
to win the battle for his soul.
For my unconquerable soul
will guard and guide me constantly.
As I perform my earthly role.
I can do all that’s asked of me.
04/05/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After Invictus
Out of the night that covers me.
Black as the pit from pole to pole.
I thank whatever Gods there be.
For my unconquerable soul
Invictus.
William Ernest Henley 1847-1903.
Out of the night that covers me.
I will emerge into the light.
This dream I follow hopefully.
I know that morning follows night.
Black as the pit from pole to pole.
Though very soon the sun will rise
up to assume his rightful role.
Majestic ruler of the skies.
I thank whatever Gods there be.
That darkness is not permanent.
That we are granted light to see.
The glory of the firmament.
For my unconquerable soul
remains steadfast by day and night.
I know that I will reach my goal.
When death grants me the power of flight.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Out Of The Night That Covers Me
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I. M. R. T. Hamilton Bruce (1846-1899)
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unconquerable
Put of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the full clutch of circumstances
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how straight the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Fishing Pole
There is something about you, something in your soul
something that seems to surround your fishing pole….
You moved to the coast, now that’s no lie
And we had a hard time with that little goodbye
But no need for heartache, no need to console
You had your boat and your fishing pole.
You know everyday you go out to fish
it’s like a genie granting every little wish
every time that bobber goes out of control
we know you are happy with your fishing pole.
Now on birthdays it’s special out on the water
I hear if you’re there, they’ll jump for the slaughter
You’ll be piling them in like your lucks on a roll
Reeling them in with your fishing pole
So today of all days take heed and relax
Pack up a cooler with drinks and some snacks
put on your shoes and go take a stroll
Down to your boat with your fishing pole.
poem by Kathleen J. Shields
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Keeping Faith for M lady Naizz
Keeping Faith.
I am benighted and afraid.
Darkness descended rapidly.
As if the gods themselves forbade
me to complete successfully.
The pilgrimage to which I’m sworn
to save my soul from jeopardy
I'll watch and pray until the morn
And then continue on my way
Though demons whisper in the night
and challenge all that I believe
My faith sustains me in the fight.
At first light I will surely leave.
I will defeat the enemy
and reach my goal triumphantly.
22/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Jigsaw
Here we hear that a perch stands for fish or for pole, -
though this pole can be twenty four feet long or square –
or a pole upon which
a kingfisher can perch
before diving to fish for his dinner dish.
Don’t consider it rude if we add that a rood
is the same as a perch, or a pole or a rod,
and a rood is a Cross, so please don’t become cross
as we must get across that this cross can be square, -
and this square cross can lengthwise be measured – so there!
A pole, too, is a fish, somewhat flounderish
with fine fins which swish and a face like a dish.
Thus kingfisher must fish for his dish, and that dish is a dish,
so lets face it in anguish, - a dish is a dish is a fish!
As a face is a head, and a head is a poll
which tells who is ahead, or shows what each prole
thought of what someone said:
and a wat, as all know, is a temple Cambo –
all the sages who sow seeds of wisdom say, - oh,
to all this don’t say ‘No! ’
Then watt brings us a light which shines down in the night, -
though this seems ‘out of sight’, you should now see the light, -
that kingfishers alight as they perch on their pole
ere they pounce on their poll
for to search for their perch,
for the soul of the sole in the shoal.
What rude fishermen do
before rod poles align
with a line from their perch to their perch.
Like the kingfisher too, bird of brilliant hue,
is our parrot, Poll, who is no stranger to you.
When he’s not being rude he tends somewhat to brood
or repeat through and through, as in these lines I do.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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This life's dim windows of the soul Distorts the heavens from pole to pole And leads you to believe a lie When you see with, not through, the eye.
quote by William Blake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Husky Team
I met an ancient man who mushed
With Peary to the Pole.
Said I, "In all that land so hushed
What most inspired your soul?"
He looked at me with bleary eye,
He scratched a hoary head:
"You know that Sourdoughs jest cain't lie
So here's the dope," he said.
"That hike was like a devil's dream,
Just blizzards, gales and fogs,
But I was leadin' wi' my team
O' seven husky dogs.
Day after day I steered my sleigh,
Yet spry o' heart was I,
And every night the Northern Light
Danced ballys in the sky.
"Them dogs o' mine seemed to divine
Their mighty destiny.
They howled with joy, and like a boy
I jined them in their glee.
While like a spark from out the dark
Fame spurred us to our goal,
On, on we sped, the winnin' sled
To gain the Pole, the POLE.
"I saw it clear, I raised a cheer,
I knowed the prize was won:
The huskies too, like wind they flew -
Them critters sure could run.
The light was dim, the site was grim,
But sunshine swept my soul,
To see - each husky lift a limb
And...irrigate the Pole."
poem by Robert William Service
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The Lucky Penny
There was a boy
Who did not have a penny to his name
Pushed and shoved around
He had to fight to stand on the very ground
He walked on.
Yet he didn’t dream of bread and butter
He starved to achieve something better
Like a beacon, his eyes shone
His heart he wore, like a crest
And drummed his fingers to create
His very own beat
He reached in and found the lucky penny
That many others
Lose sight of, grappling, to emerge victorious in the human heats.
With this penny clenched in his soul
He could go further
Pole to pole.
poem by Kamini Arichandran
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90 North
At home, in my flannel gown, like a bear to its floe,
I clambered to bed; up the globe's impossible sides
I sailed all night—till at last, with my black beard,
My furs and my dogs, I stood at the northern pole.
There in the childish night my companions lay frozen,
The stiff fur knocked at my starveling throat,
And I gave my great sigh: the flakes came huddling,
Were they really my end? In the darkness I turned to my rest.
—Here, the flag snaps in the glare and silence
Of the unbroken ice. I stand here,
The dogs bark, my beard is black, and I stare
At the North Pole . . .
And now what? Why, go back.
Turn as I please, my step is to the south.
The world—my world spins on this final point
Of cold and wretchedness: all lines, all winds
End in this whirlpool I at last discover.
And it is meaningless. In the child's bed
After the night's voyage, in that warm world
Where people work and suffer for the end
That crowns the pain—in that Cloud-Cuckoo-Land
I reached my North and it had meaning.
Here at the actual pole of my existence,
Where all that I have done is meaningless,
Where I die or live by accident alone—
Where, living or dying, I am still alone;
Here where North, the night, the berg of death
Crowd me out of the ignorant darkness,
I see at last that all the knowledge
I wrung from the darkness—that the darkness flung me—
Is worthless as ignorance: nothing comes from nothing,
The darkness from the darkness. Pain comes from the darkness
And we call it wisdom. It is pain.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Randall Jarrell
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The range in love
Love is a broad spectrum.
North Pole is fear.
South Pole is mercy.
Equator is sex.
Love for anyone
Spans in between.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar (12 December 2001)
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Silent Alarm for Friend David Threadgold
The darkness hosts a multitude
of atavistic memories.
which influence our attitude
Towards the things we cannot see.
The hunting owl which quietly
on noiseless wings seeks out his prey.
His night tuned eyes can clearly see
as if it was as bright as day.
Some see him as an enemy
and view his passage with alarm.
Although he’s acting naturally
with no intent to cause them harm.
Men fear the dark which seems to be
a breeding ground for ancient fears
embedded inescapably
in memories from their forebears.
Their fear of being eaten by
some marauding predator
which pounces on them from the sky.
Man will recall for evermore.
15-Aug-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Other Side of You
I say black and you say white
I turn to the left, you move to the right
No matter what I do
I'm always on the other side of you
I'm always on the other side of you
I want to play but you like to fight
I rise in the morning, you hide in the night
No matter what I do
I'm always on the other side of you
Like paralell lines, so near yet so far
Like North Pole and South Pole, we're oceans apart
I'm always on the other side of you
You let go, I try to connect
You always remember, I try to forget
I'm always on the other side of you.
song performed by by Nazareth, music by Manny Charlton (1986)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ambition
The trouble with the greasy pole is this,
its slippage demands, you stand,
on someone elses shoulder,
for balance,
and tightly must you hold
the ankles above and maybe the shoes.
The one above too does the same.
The position is precarious,
should slippage come, and grip
slip,
and then like Icarus
you slide.
The pole is not so good,
it is a greasy pole.
poem by Bernard Kennedy
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Go miser go, for money sell your soul. Trade wares for wares and trudge from pole to pole, So others may say when you are dead and gone. See what a vast estate he left his son.
quote by John Dryden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Pole and The Rope
A pole and the rope not visible at all,
Pulled and rewind cord, perfect of all.
From the middle of the heart,
The cable extends near and afar,
From the center of the nation,
The chain prolong to space station,
When the pole is the love,
The rope is the responsibilities.
Stuck to the invisible pole of love,
Our responsibilities inspire us to excel,
For each and every one of them,
Whom we love and cherish.
From the pole of patriotism,
Our duties start to end in victory.
Is there any difference?
Between the love and patriotism,
The poles, around which our life goes around.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Oh sleep It is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole.
quote by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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