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In 1492,
Columbus had a few
Things to do
Before he sailed the ocean blue.
He needed some green,
If you know what I mean,
So he went to see the King and Queen
Of Portugal, England, and France:
They laughed, shook their heads and said, “No chance.”
While his Homies back in Italy
Said, “Christabo, you gotta be kiddin’ me.
You want to do WHAT!? And you want US to pay?
We think you're a nut, now go on, go away."
But he didn’t give up and he didn’t complain,
He shook it off and took off for Spain
Where Ferdinand and Isabella,
Thinking him a righteous fella,
Told him they would float his boat,
If their country he’d promote,
Plant their flag on lands discovered, and
Bring them riches he uncovered, so
They all signed on the dotted line, and
Columbus said, “The pleasure’s mine!”
Then he smiled and bowed and said, “I’ll see’ya!”
And hopped aboard the Santa Maria.
See Christopher knew the Greek Geeks found,
That instead of flat, the earth was round,
So he thought he knew, or at least he guessed,
That it might be best
To get Far East by sailing west.
He pulled up anchor, set the sail
Told ninety men, success or fail,
West, they’d go, and west they went
Seventy days, provisions spent,
When land was spotted, dead ahead,
Columbus planted the flag and said,
“I claim this land for the King of Spain,
In doing so increase his reign,
And underneath this flag, unfurled,
Declare New Spain, a brand new world!”
What Columbus didn’t anticipate
He was 500 years or so too late,
For Eric the Red, and Leif, his son,
Long ago discovered Newfoundland.
Now when history tells North America’s story,
There’s room for both to share the glory.
But another fact, it’s become quite clear,
There were thousands of people already here,
See life in Asia wasn’t so great,
Some folks decided not to wait,
They just walked across the Bering Strait,
So Chris and Leif both got here late!
Phil Lindsey 1/27/17
The keeper of illumination
Aye, the keeper of the light
Safety first, his fascination
Dusk to evening through the night.

Aye, the keeper of the light,
Every season, every day
Dusk to evening, through the night
He tends the beacon, shows the way.

Every season, every day
Climbs thirteen flights of thirteen stairs
He tends the beacon, shows the way
The Fresnel lantern he prepares.

Climbs thirteen flights of thirteen stairs
Skyward, toward the landing high
The Fresnel lantern he prepares
Lighthouse beacon must not die.

Skyward, toward the landing high
Strike the match, produce the spark
Lighthouse beacon must not die.
Guides ships safely through the dark.

Strike the match, produce the spark
Safety first, his fascination
Guides ships safely through the dark
The keeper of illumination.
Phil Lindsey 6/25/15
My first attempt at 'pantoum'.  Please help, criticism welcome!  :-)  We visited a lighthouse on Hunting Island (South Carolina) yesterday.  Great day, fascinating lighthouse!
 Jan 2017 Damian Murphy
Gidgette
I don't belong,
In this "modern age"
Mom said,"Mandy,
You need a face book page"
I had one, once that I abandoned
I must've forgotten why
It didn't take me long,
To remember, it's all a lie
I prefer the woods,
You can't "filter" the view of an evergreen
No downloads in nature,
Just life, real and clean
The sound of squirrels at play,
The smell of rotten leaves
Watching the breaking of day,
No cleavage shown
Not a ***** in site,
Unless the deer are in rut
Then you just might
No "look at me's"
No "See what I've got"
Social media, I believe,
Causes brain rot
If I'm not in the woods,
My nose is in a book
Give me pretty words,
Then I'll take a second look
I already "friended",
Pen and page
I've nary a need,
For a "fake book" page
I like the dirt,
Things that grow
When it's winter,
I like the snow
I say,"Mom, I have an account,
On a poetry site,
Where people read poems
And all of us write.
Our words and dreams,
Thats what we share
And instead of our possessions or skin,
Its our stories, we bare."
Yea, I think it's safe to say
I don't care for this modern age,
And I've nary a single reason
For "fake book" page
I don't mean to offend. Just an opinion.
 Jan 2017 Damian Murphy
Lady Bird
you are my ripe and tender peach
yet I strain for just one touch
you're too far away for my reach
exhausted I sit down and cry
distance proves to be too much
wow, I wish that I could fly

I take a breath and give a sigh
a mind filled with mists so deep
in a branch you are way up high
wet from my tears I drift asleep

so tightly held in your leaves
I wake with eyes opened wide
you sway under dawns soft light
my excitement I just can't hide
tender peach, my wondrous sight
The sand burned and bit at my toes
As I stumbled along the dunes
The world thrashed, and in its throes
I found myself trapped and marooned.

You weren't a lake,
Nor a great typhoon,
But one cloud who would take
My hopes and dash them as you moved.

As you were swept away to new places
I cried my last tears, my water wasted.
You drifted off to wet ungrateful faces,
But you could've been my oasis.
 Jan 2017 Damian Murphy
Fay Slimm
For height, girth and spread
they said
there was never one like it.

Weighing a train-load with
oaken coat on
it took every seasonal gale.

but was never stirred.

Winter blasts groaning thru'
**** branches
tore down good fire-wood.

Sagely magnificent

it withstood many decades
of weather behaviour,
sheltered all feather and fur
for generations,
made lovers a hiding place

but now it's not there.

Yet I see a sapling has been
fighting for air
and some say a gone-tree's
ghostly presence
can urge spurts of growth
in its successor.

I sincerely hope this is so
for all who pass by
that one-time great oak
will have to sigh as
its memorable strength will

be mightily missed.
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