by Stan Rogers.
You say, "Well-met again, Lock-keeper--
We're laden even deeper than the time before,
Oriental oils and tea brought down from Singapore."
As we wait for my lock to cycle
I say, "My wife has given me a son."
"A son" you cry, "Is that all that you've done?"
She wears bougainvillea blossoms.
You pluck 'em from her hair and toss 'em in the tide,
Sweep her in your arms and carry her inside.
Her sighs catch on your shoulder;
Her moonlit eyes grow bold and wiser through her tears
And I say, "How could you stand to leave her for a year?"
"Then come with me," you say, "to where the Southern Cross
Rides high upon your shoulder."
"Come with me!" you cry,
"Each day you tend this lock, you're one day older,
While your blood grows colder."
But that anchor chain's a fetter
And with it you are tethered to the foam,
And I wouldn't trade your life for one hour of home.
Sure, I'm stuck here on the Seaway
While you compensate for leeway through the Trades;
And you shoot the stars to see the miles you've made.
And you laugh at hearts you've riven,
But which of these has given us more love or life:
You, your tropic maids, or me, my wife?
"Then come with me," you say, "to where the Southern Cross
Rides high upon your shoulder."
"Ah come with me!" you cry,
"Each day you tend this lock, you're one day older,
While your blood grows colder."
But that anchor chain's a fetter
And with it you are tethered to the foam,
And I wouldn't trade your life for one hour of home.
Ah, your anchor chain's a fetter
And with it you are tethered to the foam,
And I wouldn't trade your whole life for one hour of home.
1.03.2012
2074
(This is a story written by me and LN.)
Frank Butler zoomed by on his motorcycle, the tall spires of the city rising up in front of him as his cycle skimmed a foot above the ground. The package he was taking to the Hyper-Mail was tucked safely inside his backpack, his jacket was securely fastened against the heat of the summer day, and he had his new favorite band blasting in the speakers of his helmet. He passed the familiar processing plants, growing stations and summer homes on his route without a second glance.
Then, without any warning, an explosion tore through the building to his left. Kaboom-boom-boom. Almost immediately, he heard a sound to his right, and felt the shock as a laser-powered arrow hit the side of his cycle, just six inches from his leg. He looked to his left just in time to see a man with a crossbow driving speedily toward him up a side road in a Hoverjeep, then he hit the throttle and sped toward the city at full speed.
His speed made it hard to control the cycle, but he fought with the controls and kept it on the road. Then out of nowhere, a transport truck headed off a side street and straight toward his careening cycle. A lucky swerve, and the transport passed so close he could have touched it. That’s when the beeping started, a red light flashing from the arrow still embedded in the side of the cycle. Frank sped towards the bridge and the river that marked the boundary of the city. As he crossed the high bridge, he threw himself off the cycle and over the railing down the long drop toward the water.
The cycle exploded just before he hit the anti-gravity field over the water. It had been put in place a decade before, to prevent accidents and pollution. Some brave teens made a sport of jumping off the bridges, but their height meant that the jumper was in for a nasty shock at the bottom, even without touching the water. Frank was no different. The abrupt stop knocked the wind out of him and he choked and gasped as the field carried him towards the shore. He landed on the bank determined to open the package and to find out what it was his father had given him and why someone wanted him dead.
To be continued. . .
Frank Butler zoomed by on his motorcycle, the tall spires of the city rising up in front of him as his cycle skimmed a foot above the ground. The package he was taking to the Hyper-Mail was tucked safely inside his backpack, his jacket was securely fastened against the heat of the summer day, and he had his new favorite band blasting in the speakers of his helmet. He passed the familiar processing plants, growing stations and summer homes on his route without a second glance.
Then, without any warning, an explosion tore through the building to his left. Kaboom-boom-boom. Almost immediately, he heard a sound to his right, and felt the shock as a laser-powered arrow hit the side of his cycle, just six inches from his leg. He looked to his left just in time to see a man with a crossbow driving speedily toward him up a side road in a Hoverjeep, then he hit the throttle and sped toward the city at full speed.
His speed made it hard to control the cycle, but he fought with the controls and kept it on the road. Then out of nowhere, a transport truck headed off a side street and straight toward his careening cycle. A lucky swerve, and the transport passed so close he could have touched it. That’s when the beeping started, a red light flashing from the arrow still embedded in the side of the cycle. Frank sped towards the bridge and the river that marked the boundary of the city. As he crossed the high bridge, he threw himself off the cycle and over the railing down the long drop toward the water.
The cycle exploded just before he hit the anti-gravity field over the water. It had been put in place a decade before, to prevent accidents and pollution. Some brave teens made a sport of jumping off the bridges, but their height meant that the jumper was in for a nasty shock at the bottom, even without touching the water. Frank was no different. The abrupt stop knocked the wind out of him and he choked and gasped as the field carried him towards the shore. He landed on the bank determined to open the package and to find out what it was his father had given him and why someone wanted him dead.
To be continued. . .
12.12.2011
10.20.2011
10.09.2011
Out to the Ballgame
Everybody except me and Ellen missed a great ballgame! :) 2 hours of rain delay later.... Rangers win! Now to change out of my sopping clothes.
10.05.2011
The Back----yyyyaarrrrrrd Circus!!
Is wearing me out, and after only 5 days, this is a bad sign...... However, it's still fun, we've seen someone we know everyday. (Today it was the Shurtleffs.) And we went through Bill's History goes to the Movies book today.. very fun. For Ens and Ems, who probably haven't seen his website, it's http://caravanjournals.com/caravanjournals.com/9Movies.html (that's the movie book website) and his site for all his current books is http://caravanjournals.com though I think the movie one is the one with the most work done. You can see the lists of movies about each time period, we went up through Roman stuff today, and I was surprised at how few we'd seen. So check it out.
gnight all.
gnight all.
10.04.2011
10.01.2011
Happy Birthday, Els-Els
May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
May you stay forever young
May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the light surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
May you stay forever young
May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
May you stay forever young
May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the light surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
May you stay forever young
May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young
Skipping reels of rhyme
Somebody asked Bob Dylan what his songs were about one time . . .
His answer was, "Oh, some are about four minutes; some are about five, and some, believe it or not, are about eleven or twelve."
9.30.2011
9.29.2011
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