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Sunday, February 27, 2011

Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams/Hans Zimmer

Sound the bugle now,
Play it just for me.
As the seasons change,
remember how I used to be.
Now I can't go on,
I can't even start.
I've got nothing left,
Just and empty heart.

I'm a soldier,
Wounded so I must give up the fight.
There's nothing more for me here,
Lead me away.
Or leave me lying here.

Sound the bugle now,
Tell them I don't care.
There's not a road I know,
That leads to anywhere.
Without a light
I fear that I may stumble in the dark.
Lay right down and decide
Not to go on.

Then from on high,
Somewhere in the distance,
There's a voice that calls
"Remember who you are,
If you lose yourself, your courage soon will follow.
So be strong tonight...remember who you are."

Yeah, you're a soldier now.
Fighting in a battle,
To be free once more.
Yeah, that's worth fighting for.

       I had quite the dilemma for this week's response, unlike most poetry response weeks I can't find a poem, and this week I had tons that I thought of doing but couldn't decide! I decided to do this one because its one of my favorite songs from my childhood. I quite like it because its a pick-me-up sort of song; you can't but help to feel better after listening to it if you're down. The song itself (go listen to it!) starts out rather slow and mellow, and then gradually gains a more positive tone as it goes on. The artists (I don't know who specifically wrote the song) start out by telling the listener to "Sound the bugle," which usually signals the end of a battle or retreat from it-showing that he just wants whatever is happening to just to be over. He tries to inspire himself to be strong like he used to be before the "seasons changed," (from the good times of summer to the desolate and cold winter) but fails. The artist then uses metaphor to compare himself to a soldier, carrying the theme of being in a battle of some sort further into the song. He says he is wounded, and does not have the will or the strength to keep fighting; he even goes so far as to say he can just be left where he is to die, shockingly showing that he also believes himself to be worthless. The artist then brings up the symbol of the bugle again, sort of beating the listener over the head with the fact that he doesn't want to struggle any longer. When the song states "Withough a light I fear I may stumble in the dark," the artist then gives a reason as to why he doesn't have the will to go on,  he doesn't know where to go or what to do, and fears that if he goes any farther without spefific direction he will only be injured again. The song then takes a more positive tone (the music itself also gains a more upbeat tune) when a "voice," maybe God, a comrade, or his own conscience, tells him to get up and keep on going, or risk losing himself completely. This then seems to motivate the speaker, making him remember what he is fighting for and what it means to him. The metaphor of being a soldier is brought up again. It is then said that he is fighting "to be free once more," possibly from himself or something else, like he was before.

Monday, February 21, 2011

TheTale of Custard the Dragon by Ogden Nash

Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.
Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.
Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagon
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.
Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
And Blink said Week!, which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.
Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.
Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,
And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.
But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.
The pirate gaped at Belinda's dragon,
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets but they didn't hit,
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.
Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,
No one mourned for his pirate victim
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the pyrate.
Belinda still lives in her little white house,
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,
And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.

Once again, I didn't know what poem to respond to this week, so I googled "dragon poem," and this is one of the many poems that popped up. I picked this one because for some reason I recognized it, maybe I read it in a library ages ago, who knows. ANYWAYS, back to the poem. I usually do rather serious poems, but this time I decided to do a more whimsical one, which this one definitely is. It's about a girl named Belinda who is "brave as a barrel full of bears," which doesnt seem very brave to me...since when are barrels brave? But anyways, she also owns a little kitten named "Ink," a yellow dog named "Mustard," and a mouse named "Blink," who all partake in seeminly daredevil activites such as chasing "Lions down stairs." However, her big nasty dragon seems to be as wobbly and squishy as his namesake "Custard," and all he does is "cry for a nice safe cage." This seems to make him the laughingstock of the household, but when push comes to shove and a nasty pirate comes into the house, nobody but Custard stands up to face him (ands up eating him). However, after all is said and done, Custard is still the scaredy cat looking for a nice cage-he's so cute.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Lament for Eorl the Young by JRR Tolkien

Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?

Jesse suggested to me this poem because I couldn't  think of any once again, so here it is :D I think this poem is about a civilization that has fallen after a war, maybe a foreboding of world wars to come? Tolkein asks where the horse and rider are, where is the war horn? The battle is obviously over, the horse, rider, and horn bearer are probably all dead. Then Tolkein sort of shocks me, because he asks where the helmet and sword are, which makes me think that the battle scene has been ransacked (which means it is a couple of days old), and then when he asks where is the "bright" hair is, it hits me that he is talking about an old battleground. The dead have decayed, the armor and weapons have rusted away. The fact that he talks of a lack of "bright" hair tells me that he means for this to be a rather solemn poem. The title itself, "Lament for Eorl the Young" brings about thoughts of grief and loss of innocence, and maybe that this is more of someone's thoughts on the world now that he has lost someone important, no longer bright and vivid like before, only dark and dreary. Tolkein then reinforces this thought by stating that there is no greenery, no spring crops, just desolation. When he says they have passed on like rain on the mountain, or wind on the meadow, it reminds me of the song "Dust on the Wind," and the fact that nothing is indefinite, not even the earth. Then the idea that civilization period has been ended is introduced when Tolkein asks who will gather the smoke of the funeral pyres, or simply watch the earth turn. Nobody from this town or city, or maybe even humanity itself, is left. This is a rather sad (but well written) poem.... I need to find some happier ones somewhere.....

Monday, February 7, 2011

A Horse is a Horse by Tomas O Carthaigh

A horse is a horse and a man is a man
And neither can be the other
And each can survive but is much better
In the company of one another.
And while a horse is a horse and that is true
A horse is but a beast
As a cow is a cow, some ask how
On its flesh we should not feast?
For they do so in France as in other places
And I don't know how they can
For while a horse is a horse and is only a horse
It is less a cow than it is a man!

I didn't really know what poem to respond to this I googled "horse poem" and this came up. I thought it was a bit interesting, so here it is in my blog. I probably connect with this poem a bit more than most people, simply because I own horses and have my whole life. I especially like the phrase "For while a horse is a horse and is only a horse, it is less a cow than it is a man!" because unlike most stock animals, they carry a bit of intelligence with them, like a dog or cat. Then there is the phrase about a man and horse being good on their own, but better together, which I also like. Although it is really not applicable in today's terms, horses benefit from the care the owners give them, and the owner benefits from the extra (no pun intended) horsepower they can use around the farm or whatnot. It also reminds me of a quote I read on a calendar that stated "Look back on our struggle for freedom, Trace our present day's strength to its source; and you will find that man's pathway to glory, is strewn with the bones of a horse." This poem could also talk about people in general as well. Everyone has their own unique strengths and weaknesses, and nobody can be anybody else, IE "neither can be the other." Both people can subsist on their own fine, but if they work together they will prosper.