This poem by Walt Whitman was written as an ode to Abraham Lincoln after his assassination:
O Captain! My Captain!By Walt Whitman
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!
The 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.
__________________ If I do something stupid blame the Lortab!
This dark house
Once bathed in light
Filled with laughter
Kisses, good nights
Sits alone
Atop this knoll
A monument
To matters of the soul
A little boy's feet
Pitter patter
Across the floor
To tell the matter
A baby girl's crawl
Up the stairs
Curious to find
Caught unawares
Little blonde heads
Resting on a shoulder
Arms surrounding
Magnificent holder
Smells of food
Echoes of tales
Holiday celebrations
Letters, postcards, emails
Guests from afar
Family and friends
Travelers a plenty
For years on end
Joys and sorrows
Highs and lows
This dark house
The history it knows
Now empty and quiet
Still and grand
Tall white pillars
Continue to stand
Like the memories
Of seasons past
Built upon love
That failed to last
Tonight I gazed
Upon it's landing
Raindrops dripping
From trees near standing
Like tears of regret
For what might have been
This dark house
Remembering when
It housed a family
Husband, wife, boys and girl
Now just the man
A lonely world
Missing it's sons and daughter
The lady of the house
Containing only it's caretaker
A solitary spouse
Empty rooms
Empty halls
Very little clutter
Of toys, shoes and dolls
The kitchen aches
For a family meal
The living room pines
For the ideal
The family room wonders
Where they've all gone
The restroom yearns
For a bath to be drawn
Unsullied bedrooms
With beds untouched
Ask when will they return
To stir the dust
I sit in the dark
Outside on the porch
Reminiscent of the light
Of an extinguished torch
Everywhere I look
This dark house represents
Years of joy and happiness
Years of common sense
This dark house beckons
It's children to come back
From near or far it's gravity
Gives a pull without lack
The day will come
And yet is near
When they shall come
And the atmosphere
Of this dark house
Will be altered again
Abuzz with activity
Filled with kin
For no matter the time
Or the history discussed
This dark house will always be
Home to each one of us
__________________
When a newspaper posed the question, "What's Wrong with the World?" G. K. Chesterton reputedly wrote a brief letter in response: "Dear Sirs: I am. Sincerely Yours, G. K. Chesterton." That is the attitude of someone who has grasped the message of Jesus.
"What does Reincarnation mean?"
A cowpoke asked his friend.
His pal replied, "It happens when
Yer life has reached its end.
They comb yer hair, and warsh yer neck,
And clean yer fingernails,
And lay you in a padded box
Away from life's travails."
"The box and you goes in a hole,
That's been dug into the ground.
Reincarnation starts in when
Yore planted 'neath a mound.
Them clods melt down, just like yer box,
And you who is inside.
And then yore just beginnin' on
Yer transformation ride."
"In a while, the grass'll grow
Upon yer rendered mound.
Till some day on yer moldered grave
A lonely flower is found.
And say a hoss should wander by
And graze upon this flower
That once wuz you, but now's become
Yer vegetative bower."
"The posy that the hoss done ate
Up, with his other feed,
Makes bone, and fat, and muscle
Essential to the steed,
But some is left that he can't use
And so it passes through,
And finally lays upon the ground
This thing, that once wuz you."
"Then say, by chance, I wanders by
And sees this upon the ground,
And I ponders, and I wonders at,
This object that I found.
I thinks of reincarnation,
Of life and death, and such,
And come away concludin': 'Slim,
You ain't changed, all that much.'"
By Wallace McRae
__________________
When a newspaper posed the question, "What's Wrong with the World?" G. K. Chesterton reputedly wrote a brief letter in response: "Dear Sirs: I am. Sincerely Yours, G. K. Chesterton." That is the attitude of someone who has grasped the message of Jesus.
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