Literature and Poetry

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Permalink Reply by Freak Face on September 25, 2009 at 8:02pm

Invictus
by William Ernest Henley
1875

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 bludgeoning of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond the 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 punishment the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.

Permalink Reply by Percy the Dreamweaver and Son. on October 7, 2009 at 4:07pm

Rudyard Kipling.

MANDALAY.

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"
Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay:
Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,
An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat -- jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen,
An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot:
Bloomin' idol made o'mud --
Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd --
Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!
On the road to Mandalay . . .

When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,
She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "~Kulla-lo-lo!~"
With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin' my cheek
We useter watch the steamers an' the ~hathis~ pilin' teak.
Elephints a-pilin' teak
In the sludgy, squdgy creek,
Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak!
On the road to Mandalay . . .

But that's all shove be'ind me -- long ago an' fur away,
An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay;
An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells:
"If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else."
No! you won't 'eed nothin' else
But them spicy garlic smells,
An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells;
On the road to Mandalay . . .

I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,
An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,
An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand?
Beefy face an' grubby 'and --
Law! wot do they understand?
I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!
On the road to Mandalay . . .

Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,
Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst;
For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be --
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea;
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay,
With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

Permalink Reply by Percy the Dreamweaver and Son. on October 8, 2009 at 4:02pm

Devi, just wanted to remind you that I've taken in what you said re. Amazon/Nazi literature, and have spoken to a couple of Jewish friends and am going to another in a week (+-)...will be back to you, ok ?

Like your submission.x

Permalink Reply by s <3 on October 8, 2009 at 4:20pm

I love Jane Austen, but because I am not a reader I have to reply on tv and films to know the stories, they are sometimes not that accurate and miss out things that you get from the book, Sophie reads the stories and watches the tv and films so fills me in with what is left out, but they are better than not ever getting to know the stories. I am watching Emma at the moment, a BBC production being televised weekly.

Permalink Reply by s <3 on October 9, 2009 at 6:21pm

I think so too and loved the series, have got it out on DVD to watch again not so long ago.

Permalink Reply by s <3 on October 9, 2009 at 7:08pm

Thanks for posting Devi, I love to watch that scene, wonderful horses too!

Permalink Reply by Percy the Dreamweaver and Son. on October 8, 2009 at 4:11pm

I've just finished, for the third time The Cap...I'm a bit of a history of the Nazis, Black Shirts and all that encompasses, including the neo-Nazi groups around the World...My interest stems deeper due to my Jewish heritage...I went to Auschwitz, and that was why I was interested in your experience, Devi, a couple of weeks ago as you visited one of the Stassi's playgrounds.....

Not your "typical" Holocaust book, if those exist. In other words, he doesn't tell a story of a victim who risked his life to save others. Frister's experience in the concentration camps was one led by the instinct to survive which trumped all else, including family. His story intrigued me because it was very honest about survival. This is one of the more controversial Holocaust memoirs, and definitely one of my favorites.
A REVEIW.....
"The path to freedom from self-destructive qualms ran over the corpses of those nobler than you," Roman Frister writes in his bone-chilling autobiography. Moving between his childhood in Silesia, adolescence in Nazi concentration camps, postwar career as a journalist in Communist Poland and later in Israel (to which he emigrated in 1957), Frister's nonchronological narrative is carefully structured to slowly reveal the Holocaust's devastating impact on an individual life. Young Roman watches a German officer kill his mother with a single blow, then is forced to lie on her cooling corpse; at 15, he sits by his dying father's bed, thinking only of the half-loaf of bread underneath it: "I was afraid it might crumble before he stopped breathing." Frister does nothing to soften such horrific experiences, nor does he share his emotions. Yet readers will sense the author is not unfeeling, but rather in a state of profound moral shock that endures to scar his adult existence. The "thick layer of callousness" he wrapped around himself in the camps may seem to enfold him still, but it's peeled away by his ferocious passion for truth, however unsavory. As a colleague tells Frister after reading his account of saving his own life by stealing the cap of a fellow prisoner (who was shot), "You've demonstrated what honesty means." --Wendy Smith.

Permalink Reply by s <3 on October 10, 2009 at 12:19pm

Have you seen this film....

Life Is Beautiful (Italian: La vita è bella) is a 1997 Italian language film which tells the story of a Jewish Italian, Guido Orefice (played by Roberto Benigni, who also directed and co-wrote the film), who must employ his fertile imagination to help his son survive their internment in a Nazi concentration camp.

It's very good, I watched it a few months ago, it was recommended to me, even though it has subtitles, it's still a good film to watch, even better if you can speak Italian, or read fast!

Permalink Reply by s <3 on October 10, 2009 at 12:39pm

It is a wonderful film, and stirs many emotions, glad you found it touching too. I got it on DVD and watched it at home, I think most people would enjoy it, but the subtitles probably puts a lot off. I was lucky Sophie read them all to me, so neither me or Sophie's brother missed any of the dialogue, if you don't read fast subtitles are impossible to keep up with.

Permalink Reply by s <3 on October 8, 2009 at 4:23pm

This was written for me by a wonderful poet, though not famous I really like everything she does.

Permalink Reply by Percy the Dreamweaver and Son. on October 9, 2009 at 7:10pm

So far. Sue, so do I. Her art, poetry, love of animals and her knowledge of horses (which is phenomenal), and her obvious Love for you (and you for her, of course) shows her beautiful nature.