Monday
May232005
A Poetry Break
Monday, May 23, 2005 at 05:38PM
Yup, before I answer the rest of the questions, it's time for a little poem from one of my favorite books listed below, a man named Robert Service. From his obituary...
He has a ton of greats, although I think you either love him or hate him. I think as well (I could be wrong) but, I'm pretty sure - they all rhyme. In a world where it is mostly "too mainstream" and horrifying to rhyme, he's certainly not mainstream at all. He wrote a lot in the gold rush towns of the Yukon and reading him brings to my mind a rough and tumble tavern from years ago where the piano player belts out a tune and all the drunken gold-diggers sing-along, boots stomping the floorboards, glasses held high in the air and tarts on their laps. One of my favorites...
The Quitter
When you're lost in the Wild, and you're scared as a child,
And death looks you bang in the eye,
And you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle
To cock your revolver and ... die.
But the code of Man says: "Fight all you can."
And self-dissolution is barred.
In hunger and woe, oh, it's easy to blow...
It's the hell-served-for-breakfast that's hard.
"You're sick of the game!" Well, now, that's a shame.
You're young and you're brave and you're bright.
"You've had a raw deal!" I know - but don't squeal,
Buck up, do your damnedest and fight.
It's the plugging away that will win you the day,
So don't be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit; it's so easy to quit:
It's the keeping-your-chin-up that's hard.
It's easy to cry that you're beaten - and die;
It's easy to crawfish and crawl;
But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight -
Why that's the best game of them all!
And though you come out of each gruelling bout,
All broken and beaten and scarred,
Just have one more try - it's dead easy to die,
It's the keeping-on-living that's hard.
Robert Service
He was not a poet's poet. Fancy-Dan dilettantes will dispute the description "great." He was a people's poet. To the people he was great. They understood him, and knew that any verse carrying the by-line of Robert W. Service would be a lilting thing, clear, clean and power-packed, beating out a story with a dramatic intensity that made the nerves tingle.
He has a ton of greats, although I think you either love him or hate him. I think as well (I could be wrong) but, I'm pretty sure - they all rhyme. In a world where it is mostly "too mainstream" and horrifying to rhyme, he's certainly not mainstream at all. He wrote a lot in the gold rush towns of the Yukon and reading him brings to my mind a rough and tumble tavern from years ago where the piano player belts out a tune and all the drunken gold-diggers sing-along, boots stomping the floorboards, glasses held high in the air and tarts on their laps. One of my favorites...
When you're lost in the Wild, and you're scared as a child,
And death looks you bang in the eye,
And you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle
To cock your revolver and ... die.
But the code of Man says: "Fight all you can."
And self-dissolution is barred.
In hunger and woe, oh, it's easy to blow...
It's the hell-served-for-breakfast that's hard.
"You're sick of the game!" Well, now, that's a shame.
You're young and you're brave and you're bright.
"You've had a raw deal!" I know - but don't squeal,
Buck up, do your damnedest and fight.
It's the plugging away that will win you the day,
So don't be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit; it's so easy to quit:
It's the keeping-your-chin-up that's hard.
It's easy to cry that you're beaten - and die;
It's easy to crawfish and crawl;
But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight -
Why that's the best game of them all!
And though you come out of each gruelling bout,
All broken and beaten and scarred,
Just have one more try - it's dead easy to die,
It's the keeping-on-living that's hard.
Robert Service
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