A Tailor who sailed from Quebec,
In a storm ventur'd once upon deck,
But the waves of the sea,
Were as strong as could be,
And he tumbled in up to his neck.
by John Marshall from Anecdotes and Adventures of Fifteen Gentlemen (1821)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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There was a small boy of Quebec
Who was buried in snow to his neck.
When they asked, "Are you friz?"
He replied, "Yes, I is —
But we don't call this cold in Quebec!"
quote by by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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There was an Ol Man of Quebec,
A beetle ran over his neck;
But he cried, 'With a needle,
I'll slay you, O beadle!'
That angry Old Man of Quebec.
by Edward Lear from A Book of Nonsense (1846)
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The Old Retired Sea Captain
The old sea captain has sailed the seas
So long, that the waves at mirth,
Or the waves gone wild, and the crests of these,
Were as near playmates from birth:
He has loved both the storm and the calm, because
They seemed as his brothers twain,--
The flapping sail was his soul's applause,
And his rapture, the roaring main.
But now--like a battered hulk seems he,
Cast high on a foreign strand,
Though he feels 'in port,' as it need must be,
And the stay of a daughter's hand--
Yet ever the round of the listless hours,--
His pipe, in the languid air--
The grass, the trees, and the garden flowers,
And the strange earth everywhere!
And so betimes he is restless here
In this little inland town,
With never a wing in the atmosphere
But the wind-mill's, up and down;
His daughter's home in this peaceful vale,
And his grandchild 'twixt his knees--
But never the hail of a passing sail,
Nor the surge of the angry seas!
He quits his pipe, and he snaps its neck--
Would speak, though he coughs instead,
Then paces the porch like a quarter-deck
With a reeling mast o'erhead!
Ho! the old sea captain's cheeks glow warm,
And his eyes gleam grim and weird,
As he mutters about, like a thunder-storm,
In the cloud of his beetling beard.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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More Referendums Aug 23rd,2012
Quebec separatists are not foreigners; they're us,
They want a referendum to cause Ottawa a great fuss,
We ourselves should also have a referendum and maybe two,
Binding referendums and Death with Dignity are overdue.
Ottawa trying to buy Quebec with equalization money,
Hidden in some government program and not very funny,
We all should be delighted to partake in two referendums soon,
National referendums interfering in their Quebec cocoon.
Our problem is not Quebec separatists but we ourselves,
Without referendums; we're like stuff forgotten on old shelves,
Two referendums with the separatists; means common ground for all,
Do more for Canada than Ottawa aristocrats, not on call.
poem by James Bredin
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There once was a man from Quebec
Who's chickens had no need to peck;
A lady named Betty
Hand fed them spaghetti
As they lay on their backs on the deck.
quote by by John Carter Brown
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Counter Quebec Referendum Aug 18th,2012
COUNTER QUEBEC REFERENDUM AUG 18TH 2012
BY
JAMES BREDIN
The Quebec referendum is really our opportunity too,
Our chance to show them that our democracy can break through,
To counter the Quebec separatist movement; we need to change,
Binding referendums and mandatory votes should not be strange.
But how do we get our Ottawa politicians to pay attention?
Get the lead out and counteract all this apprehension,
Ottawa should come around and down to earth to help us all,
Our referendums in Quebec might get the separatists to forestall.
Why should I be the one to come up with some counteraction?
Unknown Internet poet showing his dissatisfaction,
Because this may not be a repeat of what happened before,
When the separatists didn't quite make it out the door.
We need frequent binding referendums and much much more,
We need death with dignity, though the religious types abhor,
We need elected senators and set-date elections every four years,
These constitutional changes could lessen apprehension fears.
I feel I should apologize for disturbing their peace of mind,
But a strong separatist movement can put us in a bind,
If we can get them to help us; interfere with Ottawa isolation,
Change the Constitution for us all and a great sensation.
AUG 18TH,2012
poem by James Bredin
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Recognizing Quebec as being different, recognizing our history, recognizing our identity, has never meant a weakening of Quebec and has never been a threat to national unity.
quote by Jean Charest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Up To My Neck In You
Well Ive been up to my neck in trouble
Up to my neck in strife
Up to my neck in misery
For most of my life
Ive been a fool
And you know what a fool can do
Im telling you
You came along when I needed you
Now Im up, Im up to my neck in you
And Ive been up to my neck in pleasure
Up to my neck in pain
Ive been up to my neck on the railroad track
Waitin for the train
To cruise on through
Well baby my time is due
Oh its way overdue
You came along and you pulled me through
Now Im up, up to my neck in you
Well Ive been up to my neck in whiskey
Ive been up to my neck in wine
Ive been up to my neck in wishing
That this neck wasnt mine
I was a loser
You werent lost
Baby you were too good, too good to be true
What youve got no one else could do
Now Im up, Im up to my neck in you
Yeah you came along when I needed you
Oh Im up to my neck in you
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Heroine
The heroine stood up on the deck
The ship was out of control
The bow was being ripped to shreds
Men were fighting down below
The sea had pummeled the boat for so long
That they knew nothing but fear
And the babys in the box
He thinks the door is locked
The sea is in a state
The baby learns to wait for the heroine
Ohh, ohh, for the heroine
Locked in his defense, he waits for the heroine
The mast is cracking as he waves are slapping
Sailors roll across the deck
And when they thought none was looking
They would cut a weaker mans neck
While the heroine dressed in a virgin white dress
Tried to steer the mighty ship
But the raging storm wouldnt hear of it
They were in for a long trip
Babys in the box
He thinks the door is locked
He finds it hard to breathe
Drawing in the sea
And wheres the heroine to fire off the gun
To calm the raging seas
And let herself be seized, by the -
- baby in the box
The thinks the door is locked
The woman has the keys
But there is no moment she can seize
Heres to the heroine
Who transcends all the men
Who are locked inside the box
Will the lady let them out
Ohh, the heroine, ooohh, ooohhh, the heroine
Strapped to the mast, the pale ascendant heroine
Strapped to the mast, the pale ascendant heroine
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tempest
It started out a bright sunny day
as on his boat he sailed.
The wind in his hair, the sun on his face
the salty sea air was inhaled.
He'd learned how to master the giant waves.
He'd sailed with his dad in a squall.
He'd been taught to bravely face a storm.
He lived for it since he was small.
He saw the gulls aloft in the air.
He watched their flight and thought
'I feel as free as those white-winged birds, '
happy with what he'd been taught.
The time went fast. He glanced at his watch
and then he searched the sky.
Off in the distance he saw dark clouds
and turned towards shore with a sigh.
All around darkness closed in
and the winds and rains did blow.
He struggled to keep his boat aright
and his fear started to grow.
This can't be. He loved the sea
but the violence in the sea had spread.
He tried to think calmly and heard his dad.
'Don't fight it son or you're dead.'
He could not see to steer with care.
The waves broke over his head.
He tied his body to the boat he loved
and thought about being dead.
Bruised and battered but breathing still
he prayed with all his might.
And with the darkness came God's answer.
'Sail away with me into the night, '
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Canada
(ACROSTIC)
Crown of her, young Vancouver; crest of her, old Quebec;
Atlantic and far Pacific sweeping her, keel to deck.
North of her, ice and arctics; southward a rival's stealth;
Aloft, her Empire's pennant; below, her nation's wealth.
Daughter of men and markets, bearing within her hold,
Appraised at highest value, cargoes of grain and gold.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Close to the Edge
My father was a sailor
He was always off the shore,
And I’d watch his sailboat ‘Ransom’
As it gaff-rigged past our door,
And he told me – ‘When you’re old enough
I’ll show you where they dwell,
The mermaids, with their necklaces,
Made out of cockleshells!
Then out on the verandah
He would stare straight out to sea,
Where the sun meets the horizon
Then he’d sit me on his knee,
And he’d tell me tales of Morgan,
Tales of Captain Kidd and Co.,
When they roamed the Caribbean
In the days of long ago.
He would sail out in the summer,
He would sail out in the fall,
He would sail to the horizon
In the mist, and through a squall,
And he always took his bo’sun
‘Shifty’ Dick, who trimmed the sail,
Drank the ‘Ransom’ dry of whiskey,
Lashed his wrist, hard to the rail.
Then one winter, storm capped waters
Beat unceasing on our shore,
And my mother lit the lantern
Kept a vigil by the door.
But the ‘Ransom’ kept its secrets
Never came to shore again,
And my father joined the history
Of all seafaring men!
I grew and took my lessons
In a little trailer-sail,
When my mother wasn’t watching;
She would cry, and she would wail:
‘Don’t you ever let me catch you,
Staring, looking at the sea,
It’s enough I lost your father…’
‘Never fret! You won’t lose me! ’
For years I watched them leaving,
All the magic sailing boats,
Some were worth a clear million,
While some could barely float!
I watched as they sailed out, and then
I watched on their return,
But some were lost forever,
Sunk – Exploded - Overturned!
I bought a gaff-rigged schooner,
It had seen far better days,
But I patched it and I painted it,
I called it the ‘Sea Haze’;
I took it out with friends -
We didn’t venture out too far -
But learnt to jib, and trim the sail,
To run along the shore!
Then finally I headed out
To where it all began,
Beyond the far horizon
Where the ‘Ransom’ cut and ran,
The clouds began to gather
And the shades began to steal,
The waves broke on the forward deck
And I clung to the wheel.
The storm clouds that had gathered
Opened up and thundered rain,
It beat upon the masthead, and it
Lashed the sagging main,
It soaked my tiny cabin and it
Churned the heaving sea,
The waves on the horizon
Lay in wait out there, for me!
I sailed right through some warp of space
Or time, or so it seemed,
For then it was I caught a sight
Out there – a Quinquereme!
The rows of oars were stilled, I saw,
But some unholy moan,
Broke through the madness of the storm
And chilled me to the bone!
And then I saw a Galleass,
And then I saw a tramp,
To port there was a Brigantine
To starboard there, a lamp!
A single lamp to light the way
I took my bearings then,
No sign of a horizon there,
I sailed toward the end!
The sea, it fell away just there
And all I saw was space,
The ancients said the earth was flat,
My heart began to race.
A thousand ships lay still out there
A Cruiser, Barque, a Dredge!
They’d sailed in space there since the day
They sailed right off the edge!
The ‘Sea Haze’ raced along a line
Just inches from dismay,
I turned the wheel to head back home,
To live another day,
And then I saw the ‘Ransom’ turning
Slowly in the sky,
While ‘Shifty’ Dick, still tethered,
Floated wide and still and dry!
The ‘Sea Haze’ sits at anchor still
Just out from my back door,
She sank a dozen years ago,
Sat down, hard on the shore.
I never stare out at the sea,
The sea I thought I knew,
For who’d believe the earth was flat?
That’s right! – Not even you!
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Listen To The Lion *
And all my love come down
All my love come tumblin' down
All my love come tumblin' down
All my love come tumblin' down
Oh, listen listen
To the lion
Oh, listen listen listen
To the lion...
Inside of me
Oh, oh, oh
And I shall search my soul
I shall search my very soul
And I shall search my very soul
I shall search my very so-o-oul
For the lion
For the lion
For the lion
For the lion...
Inside of me
Oh, oh, yeah
And all my tears have flown
All my tears like water flown
And all my tears like water flown
All my tears like-a water flown
For the lion
For the lion
For the lion
For the lion...
Inside of me
(growling, scatting, etc.)
Listen to the lion (repeated 14 times)
(more scatting)
And we sailed, and we sailed...
And we sailed, and we sailed...
And we sailed, and we sailed...
... sailed to Caledonia
And we sailed, and we sailed,
And we sailed, and we sailed, and we sailed...
Away from Denmark
Way up to Caledonia
Away from Denmark
Way up to Caledonia
And we sailed, and we sailed, and we sailed...
All around the World
And we sailed..., and we sailed..., and we sailed...
Looking for a brand new start
And we sailed...
And we sailed, and we sailed...
All around the World
... a brand new start
Looking for a brand new start
Looking for a brand new start
Looking for a brand new start
And we sailed, and we sailed, and we sailed...
And we sailed...
Away from the Golden Gate
Way up to the New York City
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wounded
Tears streaming through my poems,
wounded words sailed through the oceans.
The night outside has wings
strong enough to sweep my soul away.
Wires were strung across a sunset sky,
wounded lines sailed by and by.
Darkness left as I crept to my bed,
nothing can happen
more beautiful than death.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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Yellow Submarine
In the town where I was born
Lived a man who sailed to sea
And he told us of his life
In the land of submarines
So we sailed up to the sun
Till we found the sea of green
And we lived beneath the waves
In our yellow submarine
We all live in a yellow submarine
Yellow submarine
song performed by by Beatles from 1
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ionicus
With failing feet and shoulders bowed
Beneath the weight of happier days,
He lagged among the heedless crowd,
Or crept along suburban ways.
But still through all his heart was young,
A courage, a pride, a rapture, sprung
Of the strength and splendour of England's war.
From ill-requited toil he turned
To ride with Picton and with Pack,
Among his grammars inly burned
To storm the Afghan mountain-track.
When midnight chimed, before Quebec
He watched with Wolfe till he morning star;
At noon he saw from Victory's deck
The sweep and splendour of England's war.
Beyond the book his teaching sped,
He left on whom he taught the trace
Of kinship with the deathless dead,
And faith in all the Island race.
He passed : his life a tangle seemed,
His age from fame and power was far;
But his heart was night to the end, and dreamed
Of the sound and splendour of England's war.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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The storm between the two of us
How you swell like the sea
in the storm between the two of us
and while it rages
I cannot find land anywhere
and drift along
and your waves brake constantly
and more intense over my body
drags me on
and closes very intimately
round my steering-rod
and your labia surrounds me
while I drift through your waters
and later anchor against you
and see how two mountains rise up and down
showing their sharp peaks
and I rest out while your waves
are now more caressing,
before the next storm comes.
poem by Gert Strydom
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With Kit, Age 7, at the Beach
We would climb the highest dune,
from there to gaze and come down:
the ocean was performing;
we contributed our climb.
Waves leapfrogged and came
straight out of the storm.
What should our gaze mean?
Kit waited for me to decide.
Standing on such a hill,
what would you tell your child?
That was an absolute vista.
Those waves raced far, and cold.
'How far could you swim, Daddy,
in such a storm?'
'As far as was needed,' I said,
and as I talked, I swam.
poem by William Stafford
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The storm that hangs threatening
From Margate beach
I see a ship sailing past,
with people that are
dots on it.
The summer sun is hot and high
but there’s a strong wind
that swishes over the sea
and waves that like white spectre horses,
curl and twist and rise foaming
and shattering
fall to death against rocks and the beach
On the horizon grey clouds hang ominous,
where a storm is rising
and the sky breaks the water.
I am caught up in a life
that is broken into pieces
and I wonder when
the storm is going to overwhelm me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Lighthouse
The ravaging winds, swirling and twirling;
Like a ballet dancer in perfect rotations;
Capturing my steadfast site of vision;
As I stare agape at the forceful thrusts of the wind gods;
As they cause havoc of the passing waves;
The ship tilting to and fro; top to bottom;
As the waves rap the flimsy deck boards;
As the thunder strikes the august mast;
That stands strong amidst the drifts and the currents, of the winds and water;
A catastrophe unfolding in the ravenous seas................
Then, from the forgotten corners of the rugged mountains;
An angel intervenes, to carry your ship to the eye of the storm;
A light from over yonder, over the cliffs, over the monumental tide;
Standing tall in her sun-parched white, holding her gaze on my path
As the ship rocks and drifts on the unforgiving seabed;
To a destiny that gazes at you with a stubborn heart;
Sometime, love discovers you in the turbulence of life;
When the winds are rampant and the oceans voracious;
Finally, the ship drifts ashore as you rush past the stuttering cliffs, to her
My lighthouse in her immovable gaze.
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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