Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Try to remember
But my feelings can't know for sure
Tried to reach out
But it's gone

Lucky stars in your eyes
I am walking the cow

I really don't know how I came here
I really don't know why I'm staying here
Oh oh oh...
I am walking the cow

Tried to point my finger
But the wind was blowing me around
In circles
Circles

Lucky stars in your eyes
I am walking the cow

I really don't know what I have to hear
I really don't know what I have to care
Oh oh oh...
I am walking the cow
Daniel Johnston Song that I love
If you love music and you love Poetry you should check out Daniel (If you haven't!)
Gaffer Oct 2015
The old church lay in ruins, left to languish in time.
He was sitting on the grave talking to Sergeant R Johnston.
Well, I suppose you want an update on the war.
Let me see now, where do I begin.
Monday 0500 hrs, Pete was the first to moan, ******* hate early mornings.
Well, you would stay up all night playing cards.
Yeah, well just you remember that’s two million quid you owe me.
You better watch my back then, don’t hesitate to take a bullet for me, and for fucksakes if you’re throwing grenades about, don’t forget, it’s not the pin you throw, it’s the grenade.
*******, I got over excited.
The attack was sudden, Tony got hit, we were lucky, the ambush was poorly planned, we killed five before they ran.
Back at camp, I was starving, full English was a must, pass the sauce old chap, is that this months ******* you're reading, just love reading the stories.
Yeah right.
Just last week I was reading about this woman who made love to an onion, brought tears to my eyes, do you know her life unravelled in front of her.
You’re full of ****, don’t get the pictures sticky.
News came in, Tony didn’t make it.
The trip to the ******* tent seemed less appealing now.
Kit check, clean rifle, count bullets, kit check, clean rifle, count bullets.
Letter from home, Mary and John are getting married, Mary.
I’ve to see that shrink, what do I say to him.
Tell him you want to unburden yourself, so we’ll call it quits on the money I owe you.
*******, I’ll warm him up for you.
Half an hour later.
******* ******, said my brain was like an onion.
He did, did he, the ***** *******, I was wondering where that magazine went.
You better go see him.
Come in, I’m Dr Massey, I’m going to have an informal chat with you, sort of get to know you, anything you want to ask me.
Your fly is open.
So sorry, right lets get started, you’ve been involved in a lot of the fighting recently, talk me through it.
Let me see, we’re heading out of camp, now I always check the lunch menu before we go, it’s fish, simple dish, not to long on the hot plate, splash of lemon, great. We’re at a standoff, so I say to Pete, toss a grenade at them, guy's a genius with a grenade, can throw it for miles.
Though for some reason he’s mixed up the procedure, the grenade ends up killing the livestock, the enemy see this as an insult and go bonkers.
Then just as things couldn’t get any worse, I get back to camp to find the chefs burnt the fish, I mean, how the hell can you burn fish.
Right, this is interesting, go on.
Next day we’re heading out, steak’s on the menu, now I like my steak well done, so I was looking forward to lunch. Quiet morning, get back to camp, the idiot’s used a flamethrower on the steaks, swear to god he’s the real enemy.
Can i ask you, when you’re on home leave, do you get flashbacks, and if so, how do you deal with them.
I usually discuss everything with Sergeant Johnston.
Right, this is good, he’s been through this himself.
Oh yes, amazing man, do you know he survived the Somme only to be killed a year later in a mining accident.
Okay, wind back a bit, you talk to Sergeant Johnston who is actually dead, does he talk back you.
Come on doc, he’s like the chefs best effort at cooking, dead.
Okay that was quite interesting, what’s on the menu today.
Lasagne.
Is that good.
If you want to die, yes, better off reading a magazine.
Do you read a lot.
Yes I was reading this magazine on the workings of the human body, right up your street doc, but I seem to have misplaced it.
Well I hope you find it.
So do I doc, it will be a definite relief.
I was twenty two when the war ended
I was in hospital in Burma
Served in the 82nd West Africa Division
Lost a leg, silly thing losing a leg
My own fault, war took it, but silly ******
It was my fault
We were in India at the time
Not much going on
Waiting for orders, ready to move on
A few of the lads decided to
well, you know...do what lads do
And we got a footy game going
Just a few of us
Major was on board, officers on one side
And Noncoms on the other
Rather civil game if I must say so
The heat was dreadful
Sweat was pouring off of us
And the mozzies were eating us alive
We'd cleared a field in the jungle
Imagine, clearing a pitch in the middle of India
Just to play football with the lads
Well, we did it
I went off after the first half
Walked out past the end line
tripped and heard a click
Nothing much, just a click
I thought, ******...ready to move on
No enemy around, and I'm going to die
In a jungle in India, playing footy
I didn't move, didn't breathe either
But, ten seconds on, it blew
And I went with it
woke up in Burma, field hospital
Leg was gone, ******* and my eye was covered
But, I was alive
All I wanted was a tea
And to know who won
silly ******, no leg and I want to know who won
Never did find out
It seems I stopped the game
silly ******
Well, here I am now sixty eight years on
Can't play footy anymore
Live in a veterans unit in Warwick
Oh, sorry, where are my manners?
I'm Arthur Johnston, lance corporal
No medal like those American chaps
No leg, but, no medal
Victoria Cross and St. Georges
not for this lad
Just doing my duty
Playing football in an Indian jungle
Wish I knew who won though
Getting dressed to go down stairs
Ceremonies start in half hour
I'm the last one left from my lads
Tuttle passed last spring, leaving me
Oldest one it here it seems
Except for that woman in housekeeping
She was a warden with CD
Got everyone in the tubes
During the blitz
Tough old crow she is
Took a brick in the head they say
Made the paper for that one
I lost a leg playing footy
Got a free trip to Burma
Can't get around too well anymore
They've got a special chair for me
Just for the ceremony
I have to lay a wreath
Funny thing, I looked at it
Plastic thing, poppies and ivy
Made in India
What are the chances?
I lay the wreath, salute the flag
and they put me away for another year
Well, better me than that old cow in housekeeping
At least that's what I say
Next year it could be me gone
Never can tell, eh?
Picked that up from a Canadian chap
Ridley Wilson, from British Columbia
I think it was British Columbia
Oh, here they are
time to go down and do my duty
Just like I have for the last 68 years
And the two before
Imagine, 70 years in service to the crown
That's longer than the Queen
Bless her cotton socks
Well, one thing I do know
It was worth it
Every last second of it
Up the empire I say
Even though we don't have one
A Commonwealth now,
Come to think of it
India's not ours anymore
and I think Burma's gone
funny thought,
I lost a leg playing footy
In a country we don't have
ending up in a place that doesn't exist
Just my luck....
Eyes's front, Salute
Oh am I going to feel that tomorrow
God save The Queen
Rob-bigfoot Jun 2020
In bounds the surgeon, scalpel aloft, in baton salute to Michael Johnston,
I await, wired in rainbow colours, a delicious lobotomy,
He booms booms his hellos, a cheerful echo of a cake crumbed Brian Johnston
My my this will be a job!, mmm yes there is an awful lot of me.

I admire his impeccable attire, head to toe, a neo Don Johnston,
Any last wishes he cheerfully asks, perhaps a nice cup of tea?
He circles and wafts scent and soap, courtesy of Johnston & Johnston,
As I slowly and slowly drift off into hyper monotony.

© Rob perspiring-poet
Another bit of nonsense.  In a silly mood today.  Cheered up today with news of a tax rebate!
Lisa Ann Rakow Jul 2013
Friendship.
Something that should be valued highly.
Jessica.
Sometimes we take our oldest and closest friends for granted.
Sydney.
We forget just how much we love them.
Rachel.
When we meet new friends,
Holly.
We become scared.
Sierrah.
We...
Dylan.
I...
Kaitlin.
Do ridiculous things to impress them.
Emily.
Sometimes, my mind just slips away.
Hannah.
Why can't I always be my true self?
Hollie.
I suppose that's a hard thing to do...
Brooke.
I'm very fortunate for you.
Beth Ann.
I drag on you at times.
Megan.
But my life would be so different without you...
Olivia.
I don't know how,
Molly.
But it would be.
Tiana.
Thank you.
Abbey.
You keep me in line.
Kateri.
My life is like a puzzle.
Madeline.
(Well, I think ALL of our lives are like puzzles.)
Taylor.
I have many pieces and sections to me.
Shaely.
When one piece is lost,
Sam.
Then the puzzle is not finished.
Drew.
You actually do complete me.
Zac.
This poem is long.
Kevin.
But  bear with me, please.
Will.
I can't come up with the perfect words to describe our relationship.
Liz.
This poem may seem redundant,
Suzy.
And that's because it is.
Brittany.
I am a lost person in the wild.
Sister.
And you, my friends,
Mom.
Are the trees,
Dad.
The wind,
Grandma Bruns.
The grass,
Grandma Johnston.
And the things that guide me along the shattered glass road.
Grandpa Bruns.
The things that keep me safe.
Grandpa Johnston.
For that I must thank you.
*Friends.
Edward Coles Mar 2015
I have been singing for forgotten things,
beer bottles hidden in the hedgerows.
The opera singer, the strangled vibrato,
ash-filled cokes cans; the afterparty sunrise.

This recovery has been long, fickle.
Reckless optimism and the science of failure
collide into the colour
of a Daniel Johnston cartoon,
or a songwriter's sense of humour.

Disused pencils stand as monuments
to old dreams of grass-roots art,
the fragility of neurotic *******
drawn with innumerable straight lines
that composite a woman's naked body.

I have been drawing on memories
and hoping for a brand-new image;
dissolution of old borders - a strangled voice
in a room full of opened tongues.

The Hawaiian shirt made light of depression
in darkened hours and wax smiles.
Plastic cocktails, the pending brides;
desperate men - the post-work demise.
I have learned a lie ever since.

This recovery has been imperfect, a fraud.
Swollen truths to satisfy the concerned,
only myself left to fool.
I have found the early morning
but cannot reach a sober conclusion.

Redundant habits mildew my mind
with the backwater of yesterday,
familiar street names to mourn
those who became strangers,
the negative bias of my mind's eye.

I have been writing words of action
from the safety of my desk;
all that the desk-lamp can illuminate,
all of which words can make sense.

This half-lived recovery is bunk, irretrievable.
Working poverty and untied knots
are co-morbid in meaninglessness;
chains to hold me in Plato's Cave
whilst her skin freckles in the sun.

Disused and living outside of love,
morning curtains open to a sheet of light
that obliterates loneliness
in the presence of shared heat,
only for it to return again, come night.
C
Thomas Thurman May 2010
Remember all the old familiar faces?
Helvetica's the nicest of the lot.
Gill Sans and Johnston take the second places;
It seems as though the serif has been shot.
Verdana has its own intrinsic glories;
The fairest text that ever left my desk
Was set in these-- for essays or for stories.
But using them for sonnets?  That's grotesque.
   And gravestones are a special case as well:
   A mortal lack of serif fonts would be
   A certain kind of typographic hell
   With Comic Sans for all eternity.
In death, the Roman lettering is best.
May flights of serifs sing thee to thy rest.
Not the most serious thing I've ever written.
Jet Dec 2020
I thought I’d be smited, right then and there

The red gravel spilling into the dugout

Was now plastic aquarium rocks

I was in a bowl, drowning underwater

It felt like drowning a lot of the time I was out there

Mostly because I was easily distracted and couldn’t play softball for ****

When Paige kissed me, I cried

Now, those pieces of red dirt
were a hellfire beneath me.

My religious upbringing was the kind that’s secretly stifling. The kind that permeates so deep that to act against it is to act against yourself.

This generational inherited catholic guilt.

The idea that I should be unimportant and unassuming and sinning was important in a bad way.

I knew I would only get one trip to the bathroom per service, I planned it carefully each week

So that it would take the most time

So I could stand in the great hall and twiddle my thumbs

As we were  forbidden to re-enter the chapel while the father was speaking

I am forbidden from many things as a child.

I’m forbidden from tears as if I’m not important enough to have them.

I am not stone and my tears are not blood. I am not a miracle. I am not a sight to behold. I am not a message from god.

I am not the prophetic ****** Mary in my mother’s dreams the night a relative passes.

I am not allowed to love without meaning.

When Paige kissed me I cried.

I had to tell everyone in t-ball that I was 5 when I was only 4 because my mother wanted me to start a year early.

I hid the sign up forms they gave us at school each year, but my mom would register me in person.

Every year she’d tell me, just one more year, this can be the last one.

This went on for nine years.

After I made my first communion. I asked to quit

I had to study five more years to make my confirmation sacrament, effectively promising I’d stay in the church,
before my mother would let me leave.

The irony was lost on her.

When Paige kissed me I cried.

What a cruel way to hurt someone. This was worse than the tripping, the taunting, the terrorizing.

Her tenderness.

I often wondered why she treated me as she did—I was already an ugly duckling, a left fielder, a loser.

Her mom was the coach, and she was the best on the team. They all listened to her, which meant they all hated me.

She’d call me a **** and pull my hair.

When paige kissed me, I cried

Why couldn’t it have been anyone else, why not natalie johnston

I never told anyone else, I decided it wasn’t my secret to share.

But I am tired of keeping secrets of what people who hate me did to my body.

Retrospectively, it’s easy to try to be flattered. I’m sure it was hard and weird for her to have those feelings.

I’m sure she expressed them as well as she could.

But I didn’t want Paige to kiss me.

I WANTED Paige to stop calling me a ****.

I wanted her get hit in the face with a softball

and I wanted it to shove her nose into her brain.

And I wanted her to die.

And

I prayed for her to die.
mike Aug 2015
true love will find you in the end.
theres nothing left to mend.
youll live your broken life.
and youll find your broken wife.
and youll buy a house to fix.
and adopt a broken mouse to fix.
John F McCullagh Apr 2015
It raged across five Aprils, killed 600,000 sons,
but now, there was a chance for peace, if Johnston wanted one.
Some urged a guerrilla war, a game of hit and run,
but Johnston saw a suffering South and knew this must be done.
He called a truce with Sherman to surrender his command.
In truth, I think he would have rather shook the Devil’s hand.
The defeated kept their horses, and were paroled back to their homes.
This land once more united, its prior sins atoned.
For every drop of blood that had been spilled by blow or lash
had been matched, drop for drop, in every ****** clash.
On the ninth of April 65’ Rebels tore their battle flags
and little strips of colored cloth were given to each man.
The flags were not surrendered to become the spoils of war.
They fraternized with men they would have killed the day before.
Now all who had survived the war, all but one, would live.
Good Friday night would claim the last that Lincoln had to give.
April 9,1865 marked the surrender of the last significant field army of the defeated South. General Joe Johnston ignored Jefferson Davis' call for guerrilla war and asked General William Tecumseh Sherman for terms of surrender.

Less than one week later, on Good Friday April 14, 1865, Lincoln was assassinated in Ford's theater

When Sherman died, General Johnston stood, bare headed, in the rain in a show of respect for the soldier many in the South hated for his pursuit of total war.
Onoma Nov 2013
I am away
with me...
holidaying--
tightly-scripted
mid a defunct
play.
Incurred props
grow Daniel
Johnston-esque
wings.
Glenn Johnston never never cared
About my future goals
Unless they had something to do with
Fitness oh yeah
To him I was an ornament
On his Facebook page
You see he pushed me hard
Even if I lost weight
He’ll make me lose more
It was such a pain ya see
You see I won a medal
For losing the most weight
But I would prefer to win
An award in relations to my art
He said to always run
And he never cared
And he only did support worker
For the money yeseree
All he really cared about
How good it made him look
Like one of his clients
Was actually doing well
I am glad Glenn is in gaol
Because he was a ****
Never cared for my future goals in work
He probably said it was unfair
That I was getting help
While he had to figure it out for himself
But he wanted to push discipline into you
To make me fully functional oh yeah
I hate that ****** ****
Glenn Johnston needs to change
Because he has no right to
Push discipline especially
When he doesn’t follow it himself
You see being perfect was his game
But that isn’t my game
******* ya ****
Michael Angelo Jan 2021
Depression
                         Is like
A mountain

That you alone must peak
Just
        
            To climb back down again.

I hear your voice speak.

                                               It says
I don't have to do this

But I do.
But I do.

I'm slipping
                       On the rocks.
Wishing
For some rest,
But I keep pushing
To the top

Just

          To climb back down again.
I don't have to do this,

But I do.
But I do.

I extend
                 My hands
To the sky.
Its so blue and out of reach.

I get closer
                      Every time,
But I have to say goodbye.

I have to climb back down the mountain.

I'll be back up again soon, I know....

I know I don't have to climb back down the mountain,

But I do

I do

I do.
I urge you to listen to my latest obsession Daniel Johnston. Never have I heard someone so original and compelling and pure. This was somewhat inspired by his song "Somethings Last a Long Time"
Michael Feb 2019
All the way with L. B. J.,
Was what was said back in the day.
But what it meant, if truth to tell,
Was two years servitude in hell.
That is, for those without the bent
For service life, cared where they went.
Most of them, well, from what we saw,
Without preamble went to war.

'But Lyndon Johnston told the nation
Have no fear of escalation',
This, a song of protest from that day.
But for those that really cared,
(another word for being scared,)
It didn't stop them being sent away
To twelve months service and a war.
So tragic now. What was it for?

And when Nixon asked the British
For the Black Watch, they turned skittish.
And the Parliament it stood to tell him no.
They thought it was unreasoned war
And that is what the people saw,
And so the Black Watch weren't allowed to go.
And yet we here went 'All the way...',
And for our dead - now rue the day.
Recalling a time when Australia decided to send its people to a war it had no intention of winning and conscripted it’s young men to do so.
In the beginning IFÅ hovered upon KA & ORIENTED DIVINATORY said let VIRTUOUS INCANTATORY come forth this is the eternal everlasting forever ÎS ẞÔ CØŒL °³ SMĪLË
{Dà Hū Ageless}
Z°³-Amøn-Issa-Ha-*****-éh-ØØonī~Òrō-Çhilléa-géntlemæn
LORD GOD FATHER Æ KING
Î 👁️ Då LÆDER
Before Human's Already Conform His Angels


Cherubeam-Seraphīrm
Born on 1st day
Citadel-Iféd Town-Crier Christ on 2nd day
Eco-³citern-Mermaid Perculiar prince on 3rd day
Pyramidfied Royal Çhíef Priest on 4th day

Axumified Limelite Angæl Cháīrmen on 5th day
Oróse on the 6th day
Aigunm³ñ on the 7th day

Archangel On the 8th day
Dhrama-Seastar-Freemasonry illuminating-Apple the 9th day
ÇŒNFRĀTĀNĪTY CATECHISE CHAPLETORY
  on the 10th day
This is the Calculated -
This is the Calculated
balance posited sacred stable order°•


ŒRĪSHÅÑLĀ DĀHVID
Æ leader
All Lawed room

Åi-Rare-Ka. Fine-Arreal.
Ædis "Abba" token
Edē'n
Is-So-Goad-Over-here °³Cox

Alianated NerdyGeek {12}
 Sun-Moon-Rainbow Mõrnïng ẞtær
LÆD DÂ Agēlēßß {&0}•

Is so Cold {The Book}
Is so Cool  {°Life}
Is sow Coal  {Hū Rules}
Is so Code {Spirited-Water}
He So Gold {Conscience}
Is'o-kòol  Eth-man {Line-age}
Is so Good {Blooded-word}
The force of Natural in control Design-Desire {AdamHū}
Free will of Being {Pure-Intention}
Is a Goal "Humble" {Paul}


One for Natural
Two for Mortal
Three for Anthem
Four for Kingdom
Five for Monarch
Six for A Town Beersheba {Kush}
Seven for Immortal Advisory {Ur-Babylone}
Eight for Councilors {Kement}
Nine for Sign & Symbol {Hella's}
Ten for Wealthy-name {A good innerman Inheritance}


• Athmosphriended Edé'n -Ageless.
•Brimestone Galaxies -Age.
•Earth Dusted -Age.
•Clay -Age.
•Stone -Age.
•Bronze -Age.
•Snow-Icey Exposure -Age.
•Jet -Age.
•6666 - Hidden-Edge
•³ Èl eh air eth heirs "Arrow ~ err" hair star °matory age
(Brilliant Genius Distinctive Excellence)•

Èl'ífà  {0}Æír
Elì-hū ßtær {12}🕯️Burnt ßtàble Órder
Elía- dā{33}
3l'i {Prīēßt} Jah'Cell
ÓBÁ'TÁ-LÀW 3LÍJAH {80}Kīng


Çøsmoßis {0} Outérßpac
Thùt-Law {12} Ra°³
***-moses {33}
Òrì-mī-Law {Prophèt} FÆRGOD
THŪTMÓẞÈẞ ÒRÚN-MĪ-LAW {80}Èl'gód


Hū-Law {0} Cloúd  
Cørn-Dust {12} Humanbeíng
Adam-Hū {33}
Īgbø-døA1z0 {Ēvangelīßt} FÆRGOD
ÅDAM-HÙ PAÚL {80}Fāther


Bàba Ede'n-Holy {0}Líghtníng
Joseph  {12} ßtær Sun-Moon
Nor-Noāh {33} Raīnbow
Nòne Nīll  {Apóßtle}
ÀĪNÓVH ẞHÆNGŒ {80} Lórd


Paul Washer {Gadarine-Gathering}
Cater Colon {Pastorial}
David Wilkerson {33}
E.A Johnston {Sént Assembly}
John Piper {Few Choosen}
Tommy-Tenny {Ka'Cord}
St.Anthony Líj-Āyō-Íre-Dá
{Divínity Dèíty}



A child is born
a son is given
a begotten Hū -mån
a Brided-Groom {Entitlementory Completetory}
Dà Holy spirit
the Most high {Nubia en Paradise}
a Comforting  Naturalitory Line-age
an Athmos-phriended-Willed

Fore °Vi-sure-Living-Stream
³Strain_Leaf Sightseer
open the door to explore
Shore breathe 🌬️
your innerman Vision en dream


What is this lodging en people strangeth
Yonded walketh but never see
Looking as the screen doest changeth
Æ Crystal Method Ooh-logic

Just to returneth to calmer times
Would maketh mine own journey pleasanted Karma

Taketh me back to time more sane
Calculatory corded

explore all that is seen
En
challenge the unseen

nothing is out of reach
³grasp
absorb don't teach

don't set limit to existence
trust
Lose resistance!
in your persistent Live
Ra Goal 🙂

ĒL'ẞÓN-LAW
Ēl'Lord Ēl'God Ēl'Fâthēr æ
TO A Ēl'Læder

ALREADY DONE WITH POSITED
LEAF STORY•
•ETERNAL EVERLASTING FOREVER  ÍFÌNĪTY LIVING SMĪL3•
Canberra crowd
Canberra crowd
Are little young dudes yeah
They want to copy me with pat
Because they say I ain’t cool
You see
You see
Canberra crowd are dumb
They copy me with what I do
And take off my favourite things
You see I want
You see I want
To sing in a choir
I don’t people saying I am
Too intelligent oh know
All Canberra do mate
Is want to tease me
Me who is the mentally ill man
It drives me fucken sick
Canberra crowd
Canberra crowd
Are taking my adult away
And making me suffer like a little young dude
Well if I have to be one
Maybe I will
You see my mum wants me
To be good to Canberra yeah
And not video Canberra kids
Cause they don’t like it
Even if I say mate
That there are a lot of people who
Are on the video it drives me fucken nuts
But no other person gets copyright laws
Like fucken me
The world is out to get me mate
Canberra are taking my cool away
Like Glenn Johnston took my indeprndence  away
Stop teasing me Canberra crowd
With little girls and boys who looked like me
I am a cool kid mate you are a fucken man
******* canberra
Robert Staines Mar 2021
Nelson the Sea.

In far Looe harbour, I’ve heard tell,
A curious ****** used to dwell;
With whiskered nose, and flippered feet,
Most partial to a fishy ****;
And proudly bearing Cornwall’s fame,
Lord Nelson Sealkins was his name!

He wore a suit of Ocean Grey,
Which gleamed like silk from day to day;
And though a fearsome name he bore,
He heeded not upon that score,
No gentler Bull graced Looe’s fair town,
Though many a China Shop met his frown;
But with a flip of fin and tail,
He parted hence with no travail!

Some say he fought the Spanish fleet,
And others at Trafalgar’s meet;
When storming ships with guns around,
He lost an eye in Calvi sound;
But others say it ‘twas not so;
For gentler Seal you’d never know.

And so for twenty years they say,
Our hero sported in the Bay;
And welcoming the proud Looe Fleet,
Which oft times sailed along his beat,
Escorted them to find their berth,
But from behind to sailor’s mirth,
And for his labour often found,
A herring thrown into the sound!

Oh Grand Old Man of the Sea!
The people came from miles to see;
This Maritime beast whose latter kin,
Do shyly hide their face and fin,
Except to Attenborough’s camera crew,
And possibly just another few,
With camera lens, and patient view.

Alas! The days of Seals and Men,
Are numbered few, and in the end,
Lord Nelson Sealkins went to stay,
With Davy Jones, in far Looe Bay.
But never was so loved a Seal,
Or famed a Phocidae mourned so well.

And so Looe folk, to honour due,
A Brazen statue deigned to cast;
By Suzie Marsh’s hand and eye,
And on a column by the mast;
Sir Robin Knox-Johnston CBE,
For was no lesser man than he,
Unveiled for ever to the view,
Of visitors to Lovely Looe,
A statue of this worthy beast;
Gazing to seaward, and the East.
While up above in Naval line,
Flew planes from Squadron 849,
An honour rare; to gladly mark,
The Seal who captured many hearts,
And still today refreshes parts,
That other Seals can never do.
I'm a great fan of William McGonagall!
Harriet Shea Nov 2018
Wrote this poem when my twin brother went into his deep
coma after heart surgery for four year, in 1970 John A Johnston
passed away.

November 26th 1939 (Thanksgiving day we both were born
at seven months, weighing three pounds each. Today am sending out this
poem I wrote him so many years ago, to celebrate our 79th birthday, mine on
earth, his in Heaven..

(The song most popular in 1939 was 'Over the Rainbow')
Just found that our a few years ago. No wonder I have
always loved it..


Close all these years, like two
parts entwined, never knowing
God had other intentions for
you dear brother of mine.

Why should this happen to you
you who is part of me, I lay
partly in limbo and partly
in reality, while you lay only
in limbo dear brother of mine.

You lay so still upon the
bed of darkness, with all
emotions locked within your
heart. Your eyes are opened
but cannot see the ones who
love you dear brother of mine.

There are no word to express
the feelings I hold so deep
my heart cries tears of sadness
while I stand by your bed side
dear brother of mine.

Brain dead you are, with eyes
wide open, on the inside looking
out, reaching out for a hand
of hope, dear brother of mine..

I shall love you always
By Derena
© 2018 Derena (All rights reserved)

— The End —