Thread: Poems that you find

Kelly

Not sure if I'm posting in right place.......forgive me If I'm not

Thought you might enjoy this..........I did


Kelly from the Isle of Man

From Greenland's icy mountains
To India's coral strand;
Along the Colorado
And across the Rio Grande
From Mexico to Mandalay,
Hong Kong to Singapore;
On the banks of the Brahmaputra,
And the hills of Bangalore;
From Cleveland in Ohio
To San Francisco Bay
There's a world-wide race of rovers
You may come upon some day.

You may find them setting fur traps
On the snow line in Alaska.
You may find them driving combines
In the cornbelt of Nebraska.
You may find them drilling oil wells
In the sands of Az-Zahran
And you'll find their name is Kelly -
And they're from the Isle of Man.

In Saskatoon, Saskatchewan,
In Vancouver and St. John,
From Yellowknife to Gypsumville,
From Goose Bay to Edmonton;
In Alberta and Ontario,
In logging camps and mines,
In Winnepeg and Ottawa,
In the glare of neon signs
In a thousand northern settlements
On a thousand lakeside shores,
Behind the hardware counters
Of a thousand general stores.
In Wollongong and Woomera,
In Melbourne and Mackay,
In Broken Hill and Brisbane,
In Finke and Flinders Bay;
And you'll find them up in Arnhem Land,
Yamba, or Yarraloola,
Or riding a train on the Nullarbor Plain
From Naretba to Tarcoola.
You may find them riding boundaries
With horse and tucker bag,.
Or camping out in Coopers Creek
With billy can and swag.
You may find them driving transports
Through the blue to Alice Springs;
You may find them flying doctors
Who haven't got their wings.
You may find them putting pineapples
And peaches in a can,
And you'll flnd their their name is Kelly -
And they're from the Isle of Man.

You may find them on a thousand ships
Of a thousand shapes and sorts,
That take a thousand cargoes
To a thousand foreign ports.
From London, Glasgow, Liverpool,
Southampton, Bristol, Hull,
To Hamburg, Stockholm, Helsinki,
Marseilles and Istanbul.
To Freetown, Lagos, Capetown,
Manilla, Port of Spain,
Kuwait, Colombo, Buenos Aires,
Christchurch - and back again.

And you may find them on the bridges
Of a thousand salt-stained Tramps,
Or checking in the engine rooms
Oil pressures, fuels and amps.
Or on liners, or on tankers,

Wherever ships may sail ;
Behind the canvas dodgers
Of many a ship's taffrail.
You may find them on the Oceans,
And on all the Seven Seas,
From the Arctic to Antarctica -
What latitude you please.
You may find them in the tropics,
And if you look beneath the tan
You'll find their name is Kelly-
And they're from the Isle of Man.

Or you'll find their name is Callow,
Caley, Callin, Cain,
Christian, Corlett, Corrin,
Cowley, Cowell, or Craine.
Or you'll find their name is Faragher,
Or Garrett, or Kaneen,
Kennaugh, Kewley, or Kerruish,
Kissack, Kneale or Kneen.
Or you'll find their name is Mlylchreest,
Qualtrough, Quane, or Quayle,
Quilliam, Quilleash, Quiggin,
Shimmin, Quirk, or Sayle.

But no matter what the name is
They share a common birth,
For they all hail from the Island
That's the grandest place on earth.
And like cushags blooming in the fields
From Rushen to Lezayre,
Those omnipresent Manxmen
Are blooming everywhere.


Author Unknown

Posted by Mollie

Kelly

This poem has the distinction of being the worst poem of all time

Even worse than mine......lol



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]

Posted by Mollie

Kelly

Heres one I thought a few of us shold take heed of................pmsl

Disco Diva



No more disco dancing...no boppin' that's for sure
I tried to do it late last night ended mangled on the floor
The legs they went all wobbly, me head it still feels numb
I've been stuck here since 3 o'clock, in agony on me bum
I know Travolta did it and boy did he look nifty
But I should really give it up as I am way past fifty


Samantha M Jones

Posted by Mollie

Kelly

Twas the Night Before Christmas

For All Who Have Served
Unknown


I hope no one will object to this poem I do not know who wrote it but I think even now it has meaning.

Twas the night before Christmas'
He lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house,made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney, with presants to give.
And to see just who,in this home did live.
I looked all about, A strange sight did I see.
No Tinsel, no presant not even a tree.
No stocking by mantle, Just boots filled with sand
On the walls hung some pictures of far away lands
A sober thought came through my mind'
For this house was different, It was dreary and dark
I found the home of a Soldier, once I could see clearly
The Soldier lay sleeping, silent alone
Curled up on the floor, in this one bedroom home
The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder
Not how I pictured an Aussie soldier
Was this the hero, of whom I'd just read
Curled up in a poncho, the floor for a bed
I realized the families,that I saw this night
Owed their lives to these soldiers
Who were willing to fight
Soon round the world, the children would play
And the grownups would celebrate, a bright christmas day
They all enjoyed freedom, each month of the year
Because of the soldiers, like the one laying here
I couldn't help wonder, how many lay alone
In a cold christmas eve,In a land far from home
The very thought brought , a tear to my eye
I dropped to my knees, and started to cry
The soldier awakened, and I heard a rough voice
Santa don't cry, this is my life my choice
I fight for freedom. I don't ask for more
My life is my god,my country,my corps
The soldier rolled over, and drifted to sleep
I couldn't controll it, I continued to weep
I kept watch for hours, so silent sp still
And we both shivered, from the cold nights chill
I didn't want to leave, on that cold, dark night
This guardian of honour, so willing to fight
When the soldier rolled over, with voice soft and pure,
Whispered " Carryon Santa, its Christmas Day& all is secure"
One look at my watch, and I knew he was right
Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a goodnight.

Posted by Suey

Kelly

Twas the Night Before Christmas

For Genealogists
Unknown



'Twas the night before Christmas
when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even my spouse.
The dining room table with clutter was spread
With pedigree charts and with letters which said:

"Too bad about the data for which you wrote.
It sank in a storm on an ill-fated boat."
Stacks of old copies of wills and of such
Were proof that my work had become much too much.

Our children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugarplums danced in their heads.
And I whilst at my table I was ready to drop
From work on my album those photos to crop.

Christmas was here, and of such was my lot
That presents and goodies and toys I'd forgot.
Had I not been so busy with grandparents' wills,
I'd not have forgotten to shop for such thrills.

While others had bought gifts that would bring Christmas cheer,
I'd spent time researching those birthdates and years.
While I was thus musing about my sad plight,
A strange noise on the lawn gave me a fright.

Away to the window I flew in a flash,
Tore open the drapes and I yanked up the sash.
When what to my nearsighted eyes should appear,
But an overstuffed sleigh and eight small reindeer.

Up to the housetop the reindeer they flew
With a sleigh full of toys, and old Santa Claus, too.
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of thirty-two hoofs.

The TV antenna was no match for their horns,
And look at my roof, with hoof-prints adorned!
As I drew in my head, and bumped it on the sash,
Down the cold chimney fell Santa - CCC-RASH!

Dear Santa had come from the roof in a wreck
And tracked soot on the carpet! I could just wring his neck!
Spotting my face, good old Santa could see
I had no Christmas spirit, you'd have to agree.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
And filled all the stockings. (I felt like a jerk).
Here was Santa who'd brought us such gladness and joy;
When I'd been too busy for even one toy.

He spied my research on the table all spread.
"A genealogist!", he cried (My face was all red).
"Tonight I've met many like you", Santa grinned,
As he pulled from his sack a large book he had penned.

I gazed with amazement - the cover, it read:
"Genealogy Lines For Which You Have Plead".
"I know what it's like as a genealogy bug",
He said as he gave me a great Santa hug.

"While the elves make the sleighful of toys I now carry,
I do some research in the North Pole Library!"
"A special treat I am thus able to bring
To genealogy folks who can't find a thing."

"Now off you go to your bed for a rest -
I'll clean up the house of this genealogy mess".
As I climbed up the stairs full of gladness and glee,
I looked back at Santa who'd brought much to me.

While settling in bed, I heard Santa's clear whistle
To his team, which then rose like the down of a thistle.
And I heard him exclaim as he flew out of sight,

"Family history is fun! Merry Christmas! Good night!"

Posted by Gf272

Kelly

Glory


Record the past and gift-wrap the future
Should we believe in only one culture?
Memories of madness eagerly wrought
In candlelit taverns for the heroes they fought.
In wars long-forgotten except by the brace
And the Mother who weeps and prays at a grave,
She has her sorrow and God has her son
Because honour demanded the battle is won!

The poets of fancy in a peacock display
Feather their lines in a frivolous way,
The flag-waving facless bask in the glory
Of those not able to tell the true story.
Marooned or dead on a far distant shore
'God, King and country' each one swore,
The hawks required all should be bold
And they were, those boys, now silent and cold!

Mustard gas fumes, shelling and flak
The cowards that run are shot in the back,
The bombs explode and bullets of steel,
Shatter frail bodies that no longer can feel.
The pain and torment of this evil world
And in their absence the flags are unfurled.

The unknown soldier whose life was brief
At the Cenotaph is honoured with a wreath.
Then in silence we look up to heaven,
And remember as the bell strikes eleven.

Author E. Williams (Liverpool)


Posted by Pauline (Nanna)

Kelly

Never Forget


I Remember them, let's never ever forget
Those brave British soldiers
Who paid the the ultimate price
Defending our nation
Their young lives did sacrifice.

A war to end wars
They were led to believe
But thousands were slaughtered
Leaving their families forever to grieve.

They died without dignity
Gunned down in the mud
What did they really die for,
Did it do any good?

Remember them, let's never ever forget.

Author Frank Byrne (Widnes)

Posted by Pauline (Nanna)

Kelly

To the Brave


Enlisted with a patriotic fervour
To fight for what would be a better world,
How could they know these brave boy soldier's,
Of cruelty that only war unfurled.
With bomb's exploding all around them
The whistle of rifle fire overhead
In filthy trenches, rats and mud, upto to their knees.
Surrounded by the wounded and the dead
How apprehensive were these unsung heroes,
Who still fought on with courage and with pride.
No boasting of their tales of action,
T'was locked inside their heart's until they died.

Author J. Wilson. (Birkenhead)

Posted by Pauline. (Nanna)

Kelly

Remember the Fallen

[i]Shoulder to shoulder in a far off land
Separated from the enemy by no-mans land,
Year's of living and fighting in filthy mud
Comrade's falling where once they proudly stood.

The crack of a rifle or the whine of a shell
Night or day it was just sheer hell,
As we look around for the faces we knew
Dead bodies lay twisted where they fell.

Comrade's whose duty they have done so well
Laid down their live's, what more can they give,
Let's hope for a better world,...............
For us to live.

The bugler sounds off the familiar call
Advance, advance the time is dawn
Attack, attack, as we go over the top,
The enemy is running away non-stop.

Bayonets fixed we make our charge
Heavy gun's give us a covering barrage.
In the enemy's lines we pause for a rest,
Ready to face the oncoming test.

Those who returned many minus a limb
Life's daily struggle is going on still.
The Legion remember's as the year's go by,
Old soldier's fade away, they never die.

Flander's poppies so true, so red,
Wear one proudly to honour our dead.

Author William Reilly. (Liverpool)


Posted by Pauline (Nanna)

Kelly

The Soldier


Squinting into Flanders skies
Helmet low to shield his eyes,
Stifling in the mid-day sun
Clinging tightly to his gun.

His head is filled with scenes of death
Grown men fighting for their breath,
Bomb blasts causing death and pain
Bullets scatter round like rain.

The soldier kneels, he feels alone
Missing fresh green grass of home,
Missing friends, his kids, his wife
Looking back at his short life.

Then Robert sees a blinding flash
Feel's searing heat, a deafening crash,
And as he falls on foreign land
He reaches out for someone's hand.

He see his wife, her smile is sweet
His Mum and Dad are at his feet,
His spirit melts as death arrives
Just one more used up, wasted life.

Please remember Robert's story
His lonely death was not in glory,
A life lost in tragic manner
Sacrificed under freedom's banner.

Author Carol Atkinson, Liverpool

Posted by Pauline (aka Nanna)