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thomas Dec 2013
O Madiba! My Madiba! by Walt Whitman   (changing the word Captain for Madiba)

1
O Madiba! my Madiba! your fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize you sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Madiba lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

2
O Madiba! my Madiba! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up-for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths-for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Madiba! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.

3
My Madiba does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Madiba lies,
Fallen cold and dead.



Hi all and hope you are all well, haven't posted anything for a while but today I felt that this poem by the great Walt Whitman could pay tribute to one of my life long heroes Madiba or Nelson Mandela.
I hope Walt Whitman wont mind me substituting Madiba for Captain but his beautiful Poem which he wrote after the Death of his great hero of Abraham Lincoln just fits the occasion at least I think so!. Hope you all like it.

Best wishes to all Tom.
Sep 2013 · 625
Desire
thomas Sep 2013
Windy wild day,
Locked inside,
I see a leaf dancing out of control.
Sep 2013 · 1.8k
Anger:
thomas Sep 2013
Their's is the Anger of a different kind
The anger of people who never tried
In their minds they soared to greatness
But reality for them was empty places
To the stranger they seemed evasive
Smiling behind their glamorous faces
I know these people well
I know their heart's and I know their hell

Actor's and Actresses but not of stage
Playing their parts with passion and rage
No curtain falls for them
No applause, no critics pen
Their's souls are trapped in self made cages
Freedom is easy but to make the changes
written in 1998

— The End —