Song Lyric Sunday Theme for 14/01/18 – Natural Disasters

SLSI know it’s way past Sunday, and I know this is really not a Natural Disaster as specified in Helen’s challenge , but it is worth a listen.

This song was inspired by the 1966 Aberfan mining disaster in Wales. According to Robin, there actually had also been a mining disaster in New York in 1939, but not in 1941.

The song was written in 1967 and was the Bee Gees first recording after they had travelled from Australia to England.

I’ve given 2 versions for you to compare. I much prefer the earlier and original version. See what you think!

 

The New York Mining Disaster 1941

In the event of something happening to me,
There is something I would like you all to see.
It’s just a photograph of someone that I knew.

Have you seen my wife, Mr. Jones?
Do you know what it’s like on the outside?
Don’t go talking too loud, you’ll cause a landslide, Mr. Jones.

I keep straining my ears to hear a sound.
Maybe someone is digging underground,
Or have they given up and all gone home to bed,
Thinking those who once existed must be dead.

Have you seen my wife, Mr. Jones?
Do you know what it’s like on the outside?
Don’t go talking too loud, you’ll cause a landslide, Mr. Jones.

In the event of something happening to me,
There is something I would like you all to see.
It’s just a photograph of someone that I knew.

Have you seen my wife, Mr. Jones?
Do you know what it’s like on the outside?
Don’t go talking too loud, you’ll cause a landslide, Mr. Jones.

Written by Barry Gibb, Robin Hugh Gibb • Copyright © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc, Universal Music Publishing Group

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What do soldiers do?

The very last line of Owen’s poem The night in showers came to war… 

inspired me to write the following. Thank you, Owen, for the inspiration.

 

Amidst the noise and battle cry, what do soldiers do but die?

Do they rescue one another? “Let me help him, he’s my brother!”

Can they carry even one, when the bullets cease to come?

Is there any feeling left, or is it that they’re all bereft?

Amidst the noise and battle cry, what do soldiers do but die?

 

Amidst the noise and cry of battle, politicians ever prattle,

seeking ways to wage the war, counting bodies, keeping score.

Do they count the family cost, brothers, sons, and fathers lost?

Do they care for all the strife, grieving mother, child, or wife?

Amidst the noise and cry of battle, politicians ever prattle.

 

Amidst the noise and battle cry, what do soldiers do but die?

No one cared until too late, no one heeded others’ fate.

So long as profits filled the banks, businessmen all gave their thanks.

Politicians counted votes, and journalists made copious notes.

Amidst the noise and battle cry, what do soldiers do but die?

Twittering Tale #64 – 26 December 2017

It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 280 characters or fewer.watch-1267420_1280

Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.

Photo by WildOne at Pixabay’s Creative Commons

 

 

He was a total fool. The last to admit it, but admit it he did!
One wish, she’d said.
He asked for it.
No hesitation.
Stupid!
“I wish time could go backwards, so I could be young again.”
The wish was granted.
Sadly he hadn’t stipulated a cut off point, and being unborn was not nice!

(279 characters)

Twittering Tales #59 – 21 November 2017

It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 280 characters or fewer.

hands-1840487_1280 Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.

She was only alive because she could play the piano. That much had been made plain.

Her family had all been killed! Her friends too!

She dare not play top C on the keyboard, that would give the game away.

She had removed that string to hang herself.

She would soon join her family!

(278 characters)

We will remember them.

Still a week away from our annual services and parades for Poppy Day but I came across this post from last year and felt compelled to reblog it. I cannot watch it without copious tears but it really is the epitome of poetic Remembrance.

Peter's pondering

A poem in Yorkshire dialect. May be difficult for some to understand but it really is moving. Thanks to Yorkshire Prose.

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Twittering Tale #54 – 17 October 2017

It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 140 characters or fewer.

house-2616494_1280

Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.

Part two of the story from last week

They climbed up quickly.

I see her Dad! Just where we left her. Can we stay with Mum?

Forever! said Dad, quietly releasing the safety catch.

(139 characters)

Twittering Tale #53 – 10 October 2017

It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 140 characters or fewer.

treehouse-255518_1280.jpg

Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.

Will Mum still be up there Dad?

Yes, don’t worry, she’ll be there!

Are you sure Dad?

I’m sure son, you’ll see. She’s staying up there forever!

(140 characters)

Twittering Tales #52 – 3 October 2017

It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 140 characters or fewer.

clown-365375_1280

Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.

His right pupil had already blown and dropped to the base of his iris. Now his nose was falling off. That cosmetic surgeon sure was a clown.

The Masque of Anarchy

Today is National Poetry Day  in the UK, with a theme of Freedom.

I’d like to offer The Masque of Anarchy  as a token, because Mahatma Ghandi would often quote Percy Bysshe Shelley’s poem to vast audiences during the campaign for a free India.

Synopsis

Shelley begins his poem, written on the occasion of the Peterloo massacre, Manchester 1819, with the powerful images of the unjust forms of authority of his time, “God, and King, and Law” – and then imagines the stirrings of a radically new form of social action: “Let a great assembly be, of the fearless, of the free”. The crowd at this gathering is met by armed soldiers, but the protesters do not raise an arm against their assailants:

“Stand ye calm and resolute,

Like a forest close and mute,

With folded arms and looks which are

Weapons of unvanquished war.

 

And if then the tyrants dare,

Let them ride among you there;

Slash, and stab, and maim and hew;

What they like, that let them do.

 

With folded arms and steady eyes,

And little fear, and less surprise,

Look upon them as they slay,

Till their rage has died away:

 

Then they will return with shame,

To the place from which they came,

And the blood thus shed will speak

In hot blushes on their cheek:

 

Rise, like lions after slumber

In unvanquishable number!

Shake your chains to earth like dew

Which in sleep had fallen on you:

Ye are many—they are few!”

The last stanza has been widely used by Jeremy Corbyn, Leader of the UK Labour Party, most notably to the 120,000 audience at the Glastonbury Festival this year.

 

information thanks to Wikipedia

Twittering Tale #49 – 12 September 2017

It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 140 characters or fewer.

Wilmington DE © @timsavage Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.

The apartments at the top of the World Trade Centre really were the ultimate in luxury. He whispered in her ear “Will you be mine forever?”

(139 characters)

(There were NO apartments in the WTC buildings destroyed on September 11 2001)