Deep within the breast of all Man,
Burns a raging, aching fire,
That feelings, emotions and passions fan,
To produce the flames, your hearts require.
For, ‘tis the flames that hold the key,
That locks the truth within your soul.
And on your voyage through eternity,
The flames grow stronger, with each new role.
But now and then, in a moment of peace,
When you experience and inner calm,
Of complete comprehension, or cerebral caprice,
There comes a glimpse of envisioned charm.
For though the truth be locked away,
In the furnace of your soul’s desire,
Tomorrow’s dreams can be seen today,
For they are but visions, in your fire.
But remember this, as you seek to grasp,
Those things that seem so real,
If you feel pain, it’s an ember you clasp,
For you tried, not to accept, but to steal!
So know this now! The truth is here-
Look within to guide your fiery soul.
Aim for tranquillity, as through life you steer,
To reveal the visions of your life’s fated goal.
There is a peace in quiet thought,
When the worries of the day are past,
When all life’s problems are but naught-
Oh! If only the moment could last!
To sit secluded in solitude,
In the warmth and comfort of home,
Invokes a welcoming interlude,
That through tranquil thoughts, your mind can roam.
But there’s another route to tranquillity you know,
You can easily tell it apart.
Play LOUD Rock, wherever you go,
And forever you’ll have, peace in your heart.
The music I hear and the words they sing,
Induce such happiness in me,
That if ever I were asked to name one thing,
It’s music that creates tranquillity.
Whether it be the ageless Quo,
Purple, Zeppelin, Sabbath or Priest,
Or any of many, from Hendrix to Rainbow,
On music does my soul truly feast.
But what is this? I hear you say,
That’s not what tranquillity’s about!
The man must have lost his marbles today,
All they do is scream and shout!
So to those disbelievers, I say to you,
Go play ‘Freebird’ and listen a bit;
A state of tranquillity will then ensue,
‘Cos tranquillity, man, is how you perceive it!
your scent lingers
like the fresh smell
of distant rain
after a storm
in the darkness
of your absence
and sense you still
KEY: English Officer – English Ship. French/Spanish Officer – French/Spanish Ship
The Franco-Spanish fleet blockaded at Cádiz,
On September Sixteenth, Eighteen-ought-Five,
Heard orders from Napoleon for the moment to seize:
“Set sail for Naples and conquest there contrive!”
But Admiral Villeneuve, the leader of the fleet,
Gathered his captains to a war council,
Where troubled by visions of previous defeat
Cohesion and obedience stayed somewhat doubtful.
The council sat on the flagship Bucentaure,
And although there was dissension, Villeneuve held sway
As the orders from his Emperor he chose to ignore
And, anchored in Cádiz, the fleet would stay.
But on October Eighteenth he changed his mind
And ordered the fleet to sail
For Rosily, now his successor, was with new orders signed,
En route from Madrid, his command to curtail.
Not wishing the prospect of ignominy and shame
Anchors were weighed and the fleet put to sea;
With the English docked at Gibraltar he could claim
This as reason for his new found urgency.
Villeneuves’ haste overlooked the weather,
As a sudden calm slowed their egress,
And plans of formation couldn’t bring together
A strewn out fleet and disorganized progress.
By evening of the Twentieth, three columns were set,
And for Gibraltar they steered to the southeast;
Until Achille sighted a pursuing English threat,
So single line was ordered and battle readiness increased.
At dawn the English closed from the northwest
And Villeneuve ordered three columns once more,
But again changed his mind to what he thought best,
To single line return and integrity restore.
This caused without doubt many a mariner to frown,
Its consequence being felt throughout the day,
And at Eight o’clock with the English bearing down,
“Wear together, and to Cádiz!” the Admiral was heard to say.
With the fleet drawn out in an uneven crescent,
The stage was set, and the dice were cast,
The English war cries echo to the present,
The Cape of Trafalgar on the horizon at last!
Flying high on the Victory’s mizzen mast
Was Nelson’s signal – a message of patriotic beauty,
A fluttering inspiration to the fleet amassed,
“England expects every man will do his duty!”
By Eleven Forty-Five the fleets were arranged;
Nelson’s unorthodox twin parallel columns,
Converged midpoint with the enemy and exchanged
Murderous cannonades of deathly gunpowder blossoms.
Collingwoods’ Royal Sovereign led the column at the south,
Full sailed and sleek, she was first to the affray,
And at Villeneuves’ command from Fougeuex’s cannons mouth,
The Sovereign took receipt of the first shots of the day.
San Justo, San Leandro and Indomptable too
Spat their hate at the Sovereign’s prow.
Bloodied but unhindered she fought on through,
To astern the Santa Ana raking a broadside to her bow.
Behind the Royal Sovereign came the brave Belleisle,
By L’Aigle, Achille, and Neptune she was engaged,
Until, dismasted and drifting, she was no longer hostile,
Splintered by the barrage, which against her had raged.
To the north Victory, too, came under intense fire,
Héros, Sanitisma Trinidad and Redoubtable had her outgunned!
Forty minutes she endured, her silent guns could only aspire
To respond with vehemence, to see their enemy shunned.
With many crew dead or maimed, and her wheel shot away,
The Victory still steered from the tiller below decks.
Then she breaks through! Victory breaches the line in disarray;
Between Bucentaure and Redoubtable she cuts, and havoc she wreaks!
At Twelve Forty-Five, to Bucentaures’ stern she nears,
And a full volleyed broadside decimates the Frenchmen.
Eagle aloft, ready to tranship, to combat his boarding fears
Villeneuve readies his crew, to repel the Englishmen.
Victorys’ impetus carried her past and into a general melee,
Leaving Bucentaure to the wrath of Conqueror and Neptune.
When Redoubtable and Victory collide and locked masts with dismay,
The French infantry crew prepared to board the Victory soon.
French muskets and grenades dealt death and despair.
Then alas! Nelson is shot and to the deck is laid,
And through smoke from the starboard stormed the Temeraire
And annihilated the boarding party with a vengeful carronade.
The bullet hit Lord Nelson in his left shoulder.
Passed through his lung and severed his spine;
Famous words he uttered, injured supine, increasingly colder,
“They finally succeeded, I am dead!” was one doom-laden line.
Still clinging to life, below decks he was carried,
Where Ships Surgeon William Beatty tended his need,
As about, in the maelstrom, his fleet fought and harried
The French and Spanish, through England’s greatest naval deed.
At Five before Two, Lucas of Redoubtable offered surrender,
Wounded himself, and over five hundred of his crew dead or unfit,
His once proud ship now no more than driftwood contender
To the Britannic onslaught he was forced to submit.
Bucentaure’s fate was the next to be sealed,
Subdued by Victory and Temeraire and then, blown asunder,
By Neptune and Leviathon made to yield,
Like Trinidad, beaten, by three hours of Conqueror’s cannon thunder!
More and more English sallied forth to the action,
A smoky pall of gunpowder death hung heavy in salty air,
As Mars, desailed and uncontrollable, sought opposing faction,
Till Captain Duff was decapitated by shot from Plutons’ cannon’s stare.
Hitherto quiescent, the allied vanguard finally awoke
And tacked back to attack the rampaging English foe,
But Dumanoir’s late gesture, of desperation spoke,
And Formidables’ futile fusillade was all he had to show.
Of the vanguard, only Neptuno and Intrepide came to Villeneuve’s aid
Others struck their colours and one by one they sailed away
The allied fleet, for their inadequacy, dearly paid:
Thousands dead and 22 ships lost, on that bloody day.
Among French ships captured were Berwick, Intrepide and Swiftsure,
With Bahama, Monarca and San Augustin a few Spanish prizes.
Achille exploded, Redoubtable sank and Argonauta was scuttled to the seafloor
As Nelson, pyrrhic in victory to death surrenders, a legendary hero arises.
“Thank God I have done my duty” Beatty had heard him say
Then Chaplain Scott, who stayed at his side, heard him murmur more;
“God and my Country” as death claimed him and took his life away
Admiral Horatio Lord Nelson, at Four Thirty, breathed no more.
They preserved his body in a barrel of rum for the voyage back
To Gibraltar first they set, to Rosia Bay for repair
Then to England, and a hero’s funeral draped by Union Jack
And immortality in stone atop his column, in Trafalgar Square.
It really has been one of those weeks!
Started with losing my work phone. Definitley not a happy experience in looking for it and reporting it. And I don’t like the replacement half as much plus I have still got to get up the inclination to key in all the contact numbers again.
Wednesday was always the day we were most looking forward to. Wednesday was the day we had paid for tickets last year to go and see Thin Lizzy at the Ipswich Regent!! OMFG…the REAL Thin Lizzy..well…if you can call three original members plus some new faces, minus the late great Phil Lynott, the real Thin Lizzy, then that is indeed who we were off to see.
I’ve seen a few bands in my time…many of the ‘classic’ rock bands in their heyday of the seventies and early eighties, but to my eternal regret the original Lizzy was never a band I got a chance to see. So when I got the text from Ticketmaster matter of factly informing me that the gig was postponed, you may just have an inkling of how incredibly hacked off I was about it!
As it turns out, while the staff were cleaning up in preparation they found some ‘plaster’ that had fallen from the ceiling and so Health and Safety dicated cancellation. Why couldn’t they just issue everyone with a hard hat ffs?!?!
The only saving grace is that for now it’s only been postponed, not cancelled and as long as we keep hold of the tickets they will be good for the show when it eventually plays. I’ve got a funny feeling it will just be refunded. We shall see.
To top the week off, Friday has brought me red raw, itchy, puffy and sticky eys. Two comments that particularly stick in my mind from today are ‘piss-holes in the snow’ and ‘a rabbit with myxy’ !!
It started this morning with an excessive amount of rubbing the sleepy dust away and ended this afternoon with incessant itching and rubbing and gooey green stuff, and a visit to the pharmacist at Tesco’s.
I asked her to look into my eyes and tell me what was going on. Being of foreign descent she seemed to struggle with the diagnosis for it came out something like ‘conjonunctinunvitus’. Nine quid later and I have to dunk my eyes in eyewash and squirt droplets in them every two hours. Six hours later, they still itch like hell.
I’m not even going to bother to start telling you about the manflu and sore throat that’s been plaguing me all week…
On the brighter side of things, I managed to churn someone’s stomach with one of my poems. 🙂
I’ve also joined another Poetry forum online so a big hello to any passers by from The Poetry Pages…they’re a jolly nice bunch in there.
Over and out for now
its been one of those weeks you know the kind that starts with clarity but just d e g e n e r a t into e conjunctivitus
I once wrote a few lines
claiming to have dreamt
about visiting the home
of ancient greek gods
and of my subsequent
with many of them
the purpose it would seem
of this nocturnal nonsense
was a speed dating
session with the each of
the nine muses
apparently I chose Erato
the poetess of love
and looking back
it could be said
that I did produce some
whilst under her
but that was
quite some time ago
I think she got
bored and buggered
off or maybe she
just shrank a little
each day that I
until she just
I do miss her
now I have a different
but I have no idea
where it came from
or its name
nor even where we’re
perhaps this time
it wasn’t my choice
perhaps this time
I am the choice