|
Posted on 03/09/2007 9:21:10 PM PST by Soaring Feather
|
Good morning/afternoon Soaring Feather.
Good day to you, it's afternoon for me. ;)
Look what I just found. Looks like ee cummings like upbeat stuff, too:
|
|||
|
Note: The Worst Poem of All Time:
William Topaz McGonagall's “The Tay Bridge Disaster”
William Topaz McGonagall. The very name reeks of poetry, and a poet, he was. Born in 1830 in Dundee, where he is still remembered as “Dundee's most famous nobody” (does so rhyme!), McGonagall died in 1902 in Edinburgh (where he is also claimed Native Son). His unparalleled awkward rhythms and dud rhymes were perfectly matched by his subject matter: spectacular train wrecks and the mountains of Greenland.
The Tay Bridge Disaster
The Tay Bridge Disaster Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.
'Twas about seven o'clock at night,
And the wind it blew with all its might,
And the rain came pouring down,
And the dark clods seem'd to frown,
And the Demon of the air seem'd to say --
“I'll blow down the Bridge of Tay.”
When the train left Edinburgh
The passengers' hearts were light and felt no sorrow,
But Boreas blew a terrific gale,
Which made their hearts for to quail,
And many of the passengers with fear did say --
“I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay.”
But when the train came near to Wormit Bay,
Boreas he did loud and angry bray,
And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.
So the train sped on with all its might,
And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sight,
And the passengers' hearts felt light,
Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,
With their friends at home they lov'd most dear,
And wish them all a happy New Year.
So the train mov'd slowly along the Bridge of Tay,
Until it was about midway,
Then the central girders with a crash gave way,
And down went the train and passengers into the Tay!
The Storm Fiend did loudly bray,
Because ninety lives had been taken away,
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.
As soon as the catastrophe came to be known
The alarm from mouth to mouth was blown,
And the cry rang out all o'er the town,
Good Heavens! the Tay Bridge is blown down,
And a passenger train from Edinburgh,
Which fill'd all the people's hearts with sorrow,
And made them for to turn pale,
Because none of the passengers were sav'd to tell the tale
How the disaster happen'd on the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.
It must have been an awful sight,
To witness in the dusky moonlight,
While the Storm Fiend did laugh, and angry did bray,
Along the Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
Oh! ill-fated Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
I must now conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,
Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.
William Topaz McGonagall
|
|||
|
Great poerty posted by both of you. 8^)
Cute picture.
|
Thank you MEG33. The flowers are beautiful.
|
I Am Offering This Poem
Jimmy Santiago Baca
Lovely absolutely lovely, thank you.
Hello, your graphic presentations are gorgeous. Thank You.
Thanks, so how goes your day?
It has been a cloudy and rainy day in my neck of the woods.
At least we don't have to shovel it. ;)
Lady, the Odgen Nash poem, it that it, 2 lines?
With eyes amazed by the skies
I look up to see a moon
not quiet alseep or awake
In dreamy repose I choose
to gaze in awe
at the lovers ball
of softly glowing light
bentfeather
09.07.04
You are my joy
my cherished love and desire
tenderly unlocking my reverie to
read my thoughts and to pen the page
of poignant memories
soul thoughts
awaiting
the golden day...
bentfeather
09.06.04
An ornament in a bowered garden
hung in a clustered clump
an old dried rose
wrapped in antique lace
your image burned into my brow
my heart an open book
your name etched upon each page
old and tattered with their age
golden is their worth
for me there never be another
my browned eyed precious lover.
bentfeather
I may have to leave again, we are having another thunder storm second one today.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.
