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Forces Reunited - Favourite poems
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sheila ormiston
"Cassandra"





Membership Level: Basic
Posts: 8691
Status: Offline

Quoting: Teresa Johnson nee Mc Monagle
Oh Sheila that was just so heart-wrenchingly sad.  I was really moved by the feelings the poem evoked and the terrible sad irony of the ’questions’ posed in it.  That is one I will remember for a long time... thank you for sharing it with us. Lol Teresa xx

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Thanks Teresa. Another sad one coming up.

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06/03/2006 19:04:46
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Teresa Johnson nee Mc Monagle
"High Flyer"





Membership Level: Basic
Posts: 4492
Status: Offline
Poetry

INVICTUS - William Ernest Henley

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 blo@dy 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.


    * * * * * * * * * * *

I once wrote this out in presentation form when a friend of mine had successfully came through the darkness of a complete nervous breakdown. It is a great favourite of mine.

Look after yourself! it's the only place you've got to live in.
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06/03/2006 19:30:28
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sheila ormiston
"Cassandra"





Membership Level: Basic
Posts: 8691
Status: Offline
Poem.

The Cremation of Sam McGee,

There are strange things done in the midnight sun.  By the men who dig for gold.
The Arctic trails have their secret tales, that would make your blood run cold.
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, but the queerest they ever did see. Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennesee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam the Pole God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell.
Though he’d often say in his homely way that he’d "sooner live in hell".

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka’s fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we’d close, then the lashes froze, till sometimes we couldn’t see.
It wasn’t much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow.  And the dogs were fed, and the star o’er head were dancing heel and toe.
He turned to me, and "Cap" says he, "I’ll cash in this trip, I guess.
And if I do, I’m asking that you won’t refuse my last request.

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn’t say no, then he says with a sort of moan.
"It’s the cursed cold, and it got right hold till I’m chilled right to the bone.
Yet ’taint being dead, it’s my awful dread of the icy grave that pains.
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you’ll cremate my last remains.

A pal’s last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail.
And we started on at the streak of dawn, but God he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tenesee:
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn’t a breath in the land of death, and I hurried, horror driven.
With a corpse half hid that I couldn’t get rid because of a promise given.
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: You may tax your brawn and brains.  But you promised true, and it’s up to you to cremate these last remains.

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trial has it’s own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long  long night by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring. Howled out their woes to the homeless snows. - O God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow.  And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low.
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in: And I’d often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a drelict there lay.  It was jammed in the ice,but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May".
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum.
Then "Here" said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-ium".

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire:  Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher:  The flames just soared, and the furnace roared, such a blaze you seldom see.
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made ahike, for I didn’t like to hear him sizzle so. And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don’t know why; And the greasy smoke in the inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear.  But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said "I’ll just take a peep inside.  I guess he’s cooked, and it’s time I looked".  Then the door opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar; And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said "Please close that door. It’s fine in here, but I greatly fear you’ll let in the cold and the storm.  Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennesee, it’s the first time I’ve been warm".
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06/03/2006 19:47:21
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sheila ormiston
"Cassandra"





Membership Level: Basic
Posts: 8691
Status: Offline

Quoting: Teresa Johnson nee Mc Monagle
INVICTUS - William Ernest Henley

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 blo@dy 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.


    * * * * * * * * * * *

I once wrote this out in presentation form when a friend of mine had successfully came through the darkness of a complete nervous breakdown. It is a great favourite of mine.



Teresa, before I go on with my next epic poem, I must say that there was a time in my life when I could have done with a friend like you.
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06/03/2006 19:51:12
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Teresa Johnson nee Mc Monagle
"High Flyer"





Membership Level: Basic
Posts: 4492
Status: Offline
Petry

Sheila thank you so much for your kind words.  If I can be of any help in the future when you need a friendly ear don’t hesitate to contact me direct.
Lol  Teresa

Look after yourself! it's the only place you've got to live in.
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06/03/2006 19:58:15
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