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survival
Big Wall climber
Terrapin Station
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Topic Author's Reply - Sep 21, 2014 - 01:58am PT
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Steve Earle, Warrior
This is the best time of the day-the dawn
The final cleansing breath unsullied yet
By acrid fume or death's cacophony
The rank refuse of unchained ambition
And pray, deny me not but know me now,
Your faithful retainer stands resolute
To serve his liege lord without recompense
Perchance to fall and perish namelessly
No flag-draped bier or muffled drum to set
The cadence for a final dress parade
But it was not always thus-remember?
Once you worshipped me and named me a god
In many tongues and made offering lest
I exact too terrible a tribute
Take heed for I am weary, ancient
And decrepit now and my time grows short
There are no honorable frays to join
Only mean death dealt out in dibs and dabs
Or horror unleashed from across oceans
Assail me not with noble policy
For I care not at all for platitude
And surrender such tedious detail
To greater minds than mine and nimbler tongues
Singular in their purpose and resolve
And presuming to speak for everyman
Oh, for another time, a distant field
And there a mortal warrior's lonely grave
But duty charges me remain until
The end the last battle of the last war
Until that 'morrow render unto me
That which is mine my stipend well deserved
The fairest flower of your progeny
Your sons, your daughters your hopes and your dreams
The cruel consequence of your conceit
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Avery
climber
NZ
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Sep 21, 2014 - 04:14am PT
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Heady stuff, for sure. I'm not that familiar with Steve Earle
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wilbeer
Mountain climber
Terence Wilson greeneck alleghenys,ny,
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Sep 21, 2014 - 11:30am PT
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You should be .
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Avery
climber
NZ
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Sep 21, 2014 - 02:39pm PT
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Excellent. As a Kiwi, I've only scratched the surface of what Walt Whitman has to offer.
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bookworm
Social climber
Falls Church, VA
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Sep 21, 2014 - 03:35pm PT
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"we are a Peacekeeping country"
there are two ways to "keep" the peace: superior firepower or surrender...fortunately, some earlier canadiens agreed and helped destroy fascism in europe
whitman's best poems:
When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d,
And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night,
I mourn’d, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring,
Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west,
And thought of him I love.
and
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
he was best when he was writing about someone other than himself...and, of course, both of these poems are about lincoln who, from the liberal perspective, was responsible for more american deaths than any other president
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Charlie D.
Trad climber
Western Slope, Tahoe Sierra
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Sep 21, 2014 - 05:48pm PT
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This has always haunted me...
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
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Avery
climber
NZ
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Sep 21, 2014 - 07:17pm PT
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Thanks Charlie D, That is truly an iconic poem.
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Avery
climber
NZ
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Sep 26, 2014 - 12:11am PT
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One day at a time
I lay on my bed as the cold tags of memories press against my skin,
another land another world a way,
my ability to fight and carry on stays,
deeply lost in the sands of time,
the memories that floods my eyes with tears;
rushes down my cheek,
yet another night in my warm bed,
only seems dark and cold in the hollow halls of hell in my mind,
tomorrow will be a new,
I shall start again,
to live one day at a time.
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survival
Big Wall climber
Terrapin Station
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Topic Author's Reply - Sep 30, 2014 - 08:38am PT
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[Click to View YouTube Video]
When I was just a young boy, I played with swords and guns, and I dreamed of the day I'd become a soldier.
And kill all of the enemy, my country 'tis of thee.
I sing this anthem sadly, wont you hear me.
I watched the cannons blazing, on the giant silver screen.
The swastikas were burning and the hero was me.
The general gave the order, gladly I obeyed.
But the movie faded quickly all at once today.
And now I stand alone with the charges made, no where to run, not a place to hide.
We're sad little children playing grown-up games.
Guess the time has come, the damage has been done.
Stray dogs that live on the highway, walk on three legs.
Cause they learn to slow to get the message.
Just like the Indians in the early days.
Battles lost and won, yet it still goes on.
It's just another ballad for soldier.
I had no understanding 'till I saw my mother cry, when they told how many babies I had killed that night.
A dozen color photographs inside of a magazine, told the morbid story like a movie screen.
But I was not the hero I thought myself to be, movies are much different than reality.
The general was convicted to get off of the hook, but the President might free me for the chance I took.
And we all stand alone when the charge is made, sad way to live, what a way to die.
We're all little children playing grown-up games, can we burn the gun before the next time comes.
Stray dogs that live on the highway walk on three legs, they move to slow to get the message.
Give up and win, that's all I have to say, we haven't really won till all the fightin' done, and there are no more ballads for the soldiers.
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