No sissy poetry for me

Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me;
“Here he lies where he longed to be,
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.”
-Robert Louis Stevenson

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24 Responses to No sissy poetry for me

  1. MadMarlin says:

    Reminds me of one of the airborne cadence sung.
    Jump up, hook up
    Shuffle to the door
    Jump right out n count to 4

    If my chute don’t open wide
    I got another one by my side
    If that one should fail me too
    Look out ground I’m coming through

    I forget the rest

  2. Drew in Michigan says:

    I have three friends, three faithful friends, 
    more faithful could not be- 
    and every night, by the dim firelight, 
    they come to sit with me. 

    the first of these is tall and thin 
    with hollow cheeks, and a toothless grin, 
    a ghastly tare, and scraggly hair, 
    and an ugly lump for a chin. 

    the second of these is short and fat 
    with beady eyes, like a starving rat- 
    he was soaked in sin to his oily skin, 
    and verminous, at that 

    the crouching one is of ape-like plan, 
    formed like a beast that resembled man: 
    a freakish thing, with arms a-swing, 
    and he was the third of that gruesome clan. 

    the first I stabbed with a Chinese knife, 
    and left on the white beach sand, 
    with his ghastly stare, and blood-soaked hair, 
    and an out-flung, claw-like hand; 

    the fat one stole a crumbling crust, 
    that he wolfed in his swinish way- 
    so i left him there, with eyes a-glare, 
    and his head cut of half-way. 

    we fought to kill, the brute and i, 
    that the one that lived might eat, 
    so i killed him too, and made a stew, 
    and dined on human meat. 

    and so these three come to visit me, 
    when without the night winds howl- 
    the one with the leer, the one with a sneer, 
    and and one with a brutish scowl; 

    their lips are dumb, but the three dead come 
    and cough by the hollow great- 
    the man that i stabbed, the man that i cut, 
    and the gruesome thing that i ate. 

    their lips are sealed, with blood congealed, 
    but they will not let me be, 
    and so they haunt, grim, ghastly, and gaunt, 
    till death shall set me free. 

    i have three friends, three faithful friends, 
    more faithful could not be- 
    and every night, by the dim firelight, 
    they come to sit with me.

    by Louis L’Amour

    Smoke from the Altar

  3. Rob says:

    Do not go gentle into that good night,
    Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

    Dylan Thomas

  4. Skip says:

    I told the kids to put me in trash bag, and put me on the curb on Tuesday. Let the city take care of it.

  5. Okie says:

    If it makes you think…..

  6. Here lyes Squire Hugh, ye harlot crew,
    Come make yir watter on him,
    I’m shuir that he weel pleased wad be,
    To think ye pished upon him.

    Epitaph for Laird Hugh Logan of Cumnock, by Robert Burns.

  7. An honest man here lies at rest
    As e’er God with his image blest;
    The friend of man, the friend of truth,
    The friend of age, and guide of youth:
    Few hearts like his, with virtue warm’d,
    Few heads with knowledge so informed:
    If there’s another world, he lives in bliss;
    If there is none, he made the best of this.

    Epitath for my friend, by Robert Burns.

  8. More Burns …

    Come rede me dame, come tell me dame,
    My dame come tell me truly,
    What length o’ graith (gear) when weel ca’d hame (driven home),
    Will sair (serve) a woman duly?


    My greatest friend in this life sadly passed away after a year long fight with oesophageal cancer. At the funeral, the kirk was full of people. Many of them he had helped to get sober & to stay sober (myself included). He used to go hillwalking (in Scotland) all the time, and on his gravestone, which is near to the town of Keith, there is a simple quotation from Psalm 121: I will lift mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.

    RIP, H. I’ll see you again, one day.

    • Tom W. says:

      Twilight and evening bell,
      And after that the dark!
      And may there be no sadness of farewell,
      When I embark;

      For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
      The flood may bear me far,
      I hope to see my Pilot face to face
      When I have crost the bar.

      And than there is always Tecumseh, Cummings, Emerson, Thoreau, and others. Like a post on WRSA,…..I read old books on a foundation of building a culture, not new ones on tearing one down. (Paraphrasing) credits to the original author.

  10. Angel says:

    Dark hills at evening in the west
    Where sunset hovers like a sound
    Of golden horns that sang to rest
    Old bones of warriors underground,
    Far now from all the bannered ways
    Where flash the legions of the sun
    You fade–as if the last of days
    Were fading and all wars were done.
    The Dark Hills by Edwin Arlington

  11. emdfl says:

    Got four different first editions of Kipling poetry. Plan to pass them on to the daughter and grandkids at the right time.
    L’Amour was the real deal; his auto-biography is a really interesting read.
    I can’t remember the name of the guy who wrote “The Cremation of Sam Magee”, but I had a book of his stuff and it was mostly hysterical reading.

  12. Rurik says:

    I saw the Elephant
    The Elephant saw me
    We shot at each other
    Quite frequently
    I killed his brothers
    He killed my friends
    If only, then,
    That story ends
    But I’ll not forgive
    And I’ll never forget
    And those ghosts of my youth
    Walk with me yet

    -Youthly Puresome (A treasured friend and Naval Attack Pilot Extrordinaire)

  13. warhorse says:

    to set the cause above renown
    to love the game beyond the prize.
    to honor, as you strike him down
    the foe who comes with fearless eyes.
    to count the life of battle good
    and dear the land that gave you birth
    and dearer yet the brotherhood
    that binds the brave of all the earth

    (I’ve had this one memorized for years..and honest to god it actually got me laid once. no, it wasn’t padawan either…)

  14. tumbleweed says:

    God is our guide! from field, from wave,
    From plough, from anvil, and from loom;
    We come, our country’s rights to save,
    And speak a tyrant faction’s doom:
    We raise the watch-word liberty;
    We will, we will, we will be free!

  15. NewVegasBadger says:

    “If any question why we died,
    Tell them because our fathers lied.”
    Rudyard Kipling.

    I have a copy of his complete works of poetry. It is one of my favorite books. I like “Tommy” so much that I have that memorized.

  16. final analysis

    all you can do
    is entertain yourself
    until it’s time
    to quit
    the drinking, the music, the many books

    empty hours
    spent in thrall to Maya
    the illusion of life

    engines rebuilt
    whisky consumed

    opening your eyes
    in Luxembourg City
    ten days later

    the desperation of amusement
    the hospitals
    the blood
    handcuffs and jail

    white walls in Hamburg
    blue light ambulance
    and Russian vodka

    a phone box in Holland
    another blackout
    just one drink

    violence and scars
    whips and beatings
    pain inflicted
    and sometimes, felt

    to be numb
    beyond the world
    and still feel something

    until eventually,
    after the hospitals
    the poverty
    the loss

    if you are fortunate
    you will have a moment or two
    towards the end

    with chemical assistance
    and not so much pain

    when you will acknowledge
    to yourself
    that nothing you did
    ever mattered.

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