Christopher Reeve.
1952-2004.
Actor, film director, producer.
Screenwriter, author and activist.
------------
Under New York skies his first yawn,
The first of two boys he was born,
Parents divorced when Chris was four,
The divorce respectful mutual rapport.
Piano lessons aged nine,
Disposition benign,
Acting, sports, scholar too,
Which one would he pursue.
Acting seemed to be his strength,
This he pursued at length,
The Aviator, Superman,
Certainly no also ran.
A licensed pilot he became,
Crossed the Atlantic in his plane,
Nothing much he wouldn’t try,
His career had reached a high.
Riding horses another desire,
A awful accident did transpire,
From neck down he couldn’t move,
Woefully, he did not improve.
Jobee.
Full film.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_KpMaGOLDm4
Monday 25 February 2013
Sunday 24 February 2013
Chet Baker.
’Chet’ Baker.
Born. Oklahoma. 1929.
Died. Amsterdam. 1988.
Rather quiet, unasuming, introverted man,
not leading a life as some disciplined plan,
his father a guitarist of consummate skill,
who’s talents gave the locals a thrill.
The trombone, Chet, started on first,
finding too heavy after his youthful outburst,
the trumpet, much more to his like,
that first burst submursed in his psych.
doing the rounds with Stan Getz and all,
Charlie Parker, coke, the’re having a ball,
West Coast Jazz, in its springtime,
It’ll be back, all in good time.
Back to our hero and his demise,
he finished up under European skies,
Hotel in Amsterdam, the dragon called,
Its time, its now, lets end it all.
jobee.
Thanks Chet.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v=Izp ... =endscreen
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v=pfE ... =endscreen
Born. Oklahoma. 1929.
Died. Amsterdam. 1988.
Rather quiet, unasuming, introverted man,
not leading a life as some disciplined plan,
his father a guitarist of consummate skill,
who’s talents gave the locals a thrill.
The trombone, Chet, started on first,
finding too heavy after his youthful outburst,
the trumpet, much more to his like,
that first burst submursed in his psych.
doing the rounds with Stan Getz and all,
Charlie Parker, coke, the’re having a ball,
West Coast Jazz, in its springtime,
It’ll be back, all in good time.
Back to our hero and his demise,
he finished up under European skies,
Hotel in Amsterdam, the dragon called,
Its time, its now, lets end it all.
jobee.
Thanks Chet.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v=Izp ... =endscreen
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v=pfE ... =endscreen
Thursday 21 February 2013
Bradgate Park
Bradgate Park.
Vivid memories as a child,
Always amazed beguiled,
So much wild life around,
Fern, bracken on the ground.
Red and fallow deer,
Have they always been here?
Later on I found out more,
What happened heretofore.
A lady by the name of Jane,
Her relations had made her feign,
“Go on my dear say you're Queen,
our whole family will be supreme”
Nine days her reign would last,
She had in fact been miscast,
A lady named Mary took her place.
Jane stepped down in disgrace.
Sir Thomas Wyatt caused disquiet,
Jane's father Henry provoked a riot,
After this all heads removed,
B-oody Mary had disapproved.
The park today a treat to see,
Just walk in It's completely free,
The River Lin is my a delight,
With kingfishers in full flight.
http://www.bradgatepark.org/index.php?ID=1
Vivid memories as a child,
Always amazed beguiled,
So much wild life around,
Fern, bracken on the ground.
Red and fallow deer,
Have they always been here?
Later on I found out more,
What happened heretofore.
A lady by the name of Jane,
Her relations had made her feign,
“Go on my dear say you're Queen,
our whole family will be supreme”
Nine days her reign would last,
She had in fact been miscast,
A lady named Mary took her place.
Jane stepped down in disgrace.
Sir Thomas Wyatt caused disquiet,
Jane's father Henry provoked a riot,
After this all heads removed,
B-oody Mary had disapproved.
The park today a treat to see,
Just walk in It's completely free,
The River Lin is my a delight,
With kingfishers in full flight.
http://www.bradgatepark.org/index.php?ID=1
Tuesday 19 February 2013
August.
August.
August, school days I recall.
Braunstone park football,
Six weeks of holidays
Birds nesting was the craze.
The moat, Kirby Muxloe Castle,
Thoughts of knights in battle,
Fishing nets, sticklebacks,
Badger holes, rabbit traps.
Blood hill, camping on the banks,
Nights and paraffin lamps,
Rooks their early morning call,
Now none of them at all.
Swift and swallows
Kingfishers in holes and hollows,
Bradgate Park, pollarded trees,
Jackdaws and bumble bees.
Lady Jane's home,
That place where peacocks roam,
Groby pool, canadian geese,
Switherland wood, and peace.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4_noq_oGFY
Monday 18 February 2013
July.
July.
To this day some farmers pray,
“Not a wet St Swithin's day,
menacing clouds blow away,
raise our spirits relieve dismay”
St Johns wort a July bloom,
Marking John the baptist doom,
Draped on cattle in centuries past,
Avoiding spells that witches cast.
Evening primrose a lovely sight,
It's best at dusk through night,
At sunrise in repose,
It's yellow petals close.
Late July in marshy ground,
Horseflies will abound,
They can give a nasty bite
and children an awful fright.
Nothings perfect in natures way,
Though occasionally a perfect day,
A rising sun a little breeze,
I'm really not that hard to please.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iecSvCSAC9I
Sunday 17 February 2013
June.
June.
Fresh water life does well,
toads, newts, invertebrates excel,
tadpoles of frogs, newts, grow fast,
quick growth essential many don't last.
The ponds edge is teeming with life,
iris, yellow flag, hover flies rife,
the hairy wings of caddisfly,
pollution free water they occupy.
The profusion of flowers vertex,
with evocative summer effects,
a bonanza for bees and butterfly,
watch out for the biting black fly.
June is the month of the rose,
low down the burnet rose shows.
The dog rose will reach for the sky,
It can grow to four metres high.
Stonehenge at midsummer high,
Druids stare at the sun in the sky,
the reason was lost down the ages,
their showing no signs of changes.
Jobee
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gPUouu-Nr9Q
Friday 15 February 2013
May.
|
May.
The merry month of may they say, lilly of the valley on display, the roe deer drop their young, hover fly, I hear their hum. Trees in leaf, the canopy thickens, the pace of forest life quickens, birds, hyperactive days of activity, fetching and carrying in servility. Larger animals quietly preoccupied, their noises not so amplified, stay down wind on a sunny day, joyfully watching young foxes play. An evening walk could bring delight, badger cubs a pleasing sight, parents too, join in the fun, spirits raised by a setting sun. Fully aroused from winters rest, nature functions at its best, things happen at alarming speed, an atmosphere of joie de vive. jobee http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9yjR3hzuldY |
Monday 11 February 2013
March.
March.
I sit, stare, from my old lawn chair,
I never see a mad march hare,
I get the feeling spring is near,
Not enough to stand and cheer.
Not yet a visual work of art,
Some flowers make a steady start,
Crocuses, like a ladies polonaise,
In full bloom on sunny days.
Some nights are cold and raw,
An early sun won’t start a thaw,
By midday a tad more bright,
Melting icicles sheer delight.
Bumble bees in years gone by,
On rare occasions catch my eye,
One maybe two, come into view,
What a pity there are so few.
It often ends like a lions roar,
It leaves me with no rapport,
Cold winds, sleat and snow,
come in april make a show.
jobee
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZSAb1tvL498
I sit, stare, from my old lawn chair,
I never see a mad march hare,
I get the feeling spring is near,
Not enough to stand and cheer.
Not yet a visual work of art,
Some flowers make a steady start,
Crocuses, like a ladies polonaise,
In full bloom on sunny days.
Some nights are cold and raw,
An early sun won’t start a thaw,
By midday a tad more bright,
Melting icicles sheer delight.
Bumble bees in years gone by,
On rare occasions catch my eye,
One maybe two, come into view,
What a pity there are so few.
It often ends like a lions roar,
It leaves me with no rapport,
Cold winds, sleat and snow,
come in april make a show.
jobee
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZSAb1tvL498
Saturday 9 February 2013
February
February.
The month is often cold, dark,
I never hear the cheerful lark,
februa it's old roman name,
purification the name of the game.
Stormy weather it's usual start,
a little calmer the second part,
long quiet spells, moderatly cold,
the bird table a sight to behold.
Raucous starlings an unwelcome sight,
other birds hardly a bite,
a cold february, let it be done,
better that than a cold spring run.
A wood mouse looking for scraps,
the grey squirrel avoids my traps,
smooth newts stir in my pond,
snow drops begin to respond.
Still the trees stripped bare,
some trunks a concessionaire,
a toadstool begins to grow,
velvet shanks makes a show.
Covered bird feeder doing well,
handy in a rainy cold spell,
mold free food, nutritious,dry,
scuffles, what a hue and cry.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gmYC-dPxDjI
The month is often cold, dark,
I never hear the cheerful lark,
februa it's old roman name,
purification the name of the game.
Stormy weather it's usual start,
a little calmer the second part,
long quiet spells, moderatly cold,
the bird table a sight to behold.
Raucous starlings an unwelcome sight,
other birds hardly a bite,
a cold february, let it be done,
better that than a cold spring run.
A wood mouse looking for scraps,
the grey squirrel avoids my traps,
smooth newts stir in my pond,
snow drops begin to respond.
Still the trees stripped bare,
some trunks a concessionaire,
a toadstool begins to grow,
velvet shanks makes a show.
Covered bird feeder doing well,
handy in a rainy cold spell,
mold free food, nutritious,dry,
scuffles, what a hue and cry.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gmYC-dPxDjI
Thursday 7 February 2013
Wilfred Owen.
One of my favourite poets.
DULCE ET DECORUM EST(1)
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares(2) we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest(3) began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots(4)
Of tired, outstripped(5) Five-Nines(6) that dropped behind.
Gas!(7) Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets(8) just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime(9) . . .
Dim, through the misty panes(10) and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering,(11) choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud(12)
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest(13)
To children ardent(14) for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.(15)
Wilfred Owen
8 October 1917 - March, 1918
Owen was shot through the head and killed in the last week of world war 1.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=en ... rhi-w&NR=1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&featu ... KxhE9eY2uA
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SS1dO0JC2EE
DULCE ET DECORUM EST(1)
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares(2) we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest(3) began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots(4)
Of tired, outstripped(5) Five-Nines(6) that dropped behind.
Gas!(7) Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets(8) just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime(9) . . .
Dim, through the misty panes(10) and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering,(11) choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud(12)
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest(13)
To children ardent(14) for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.(15)
Wilfred Owen
8 October 1917 - March, 1918
Owen was shot through the head and killed in the last week of world war 1.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=en ... rhi-w&NR=1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&featu ... KxhE9eY2uA
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SS1dO0JC2EE
Wednesday 6 February 2013
P. I. Tchaikovsky.
P. I. Tchaikovsky.
1840-1893.
Udmurtia.
Russian Empire.
---------------------
Aged just five piano lessons start,
precocious, astute, full of heart,
three years later a little greater,
his teachers creative alma mater.
Three languages already learned,
parental respect, confidence earned,
seeing he was ready for other things,
all round education and all it brings.
The school eight hundred miles away,
boarding school, strict, not for play,
Tchaikovsky, home sick, depressed,
still his tutors very impressed.
Missing his mother a great deal,
never recovering from this ordeal,
schizophrenia plagued his life,
same sex desires causing strife.
Never losing his musical brilliance,
that childlike creative resilience,
symphonies, concertos, operas too,
another like him is long overdue.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RG83EmwJpo8
1840-1893.
Udmurtia.
Russian Empire.
---------------------
Aged just five piano lessons start,
precocious, astute, full of heart,
three years later a little greater,
his teachers creative alma mater.
Three languages already learned,
parental respect, confidence earned,
seeing he was ready for other things,
all round education and all it brings.
The school eight hundred miles away,
boarding school, strict, not for play,
Tchaikovsky, home sick, depressed,
still his tutors very impressed.
Missing his mother a great deal,
never recovering from this ordeal,
schizophrenia plagued his life,
same sex desires causing strife.
Never losing his musical brilliance,
that childlike creative resilience,
symphonies, concertos, operas too,
another like him is long overdue.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RG83EmwJpo8
Frank Sinatra.
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Richard 111
Richard 111.
2 Oct. 1452-22Aug. 1485.
In a cloud of suspicion he took the throne,
his brother the King he did bemoan,
his sons were bastards Richard declared,
Edward the eldest, ascent impaired.
Lord protector was Richards roll,
the dead King trusting him with control,
a great mistake by Edward the Fourth,
his Chamberlain, Hastings, Richard called forth.
Hastings, of Kirby Muxloe fame,
an impeccable record without blame,
supporting Richards protecting rank,
doing the job of royal think tank.
Guards arrested Hastings, ushered him out.
Traitor! Richard was heard to shout,
his head removed without trial,
Richard enraged, showing no guile.
The young Princes fate now sealed,
Richards intentions were revealed,
they disappeared without trace,
Richard behind the Coup de Grace.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LH7Nyx19amQ
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=74ul7XeQ ... re=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3nvPlsm550c
Jobee .012.
2 Oct. 1452-22Aug. 1485.
In a cloud of suspicion he took the throne,
his brother the King he did bemoan,
his sons were bastards Richard declared,
Edward the eldest, ascent impaired.
Lord protector was Richards roll,
the dead King trusting him with control,
a great mistake by Edward the Fourth,
his Chamberlain, Hastings, Richard called forth.
Hastings, of Kirby Muxloe fame,
an impeccable record without blame,
supporting Richards protecting rank,
doing the job of royal think tank.
Guards arrested Hastings, ushered him out.
Traitor! Richard was heard to shout,
his head removed without trial,
Richard enraged, showing no guile.
The young Princes fate now sealed,
Richards intentions were revealed,
they disappeared without trace,
Richard behind the Coup de Grace.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LH7Nyx19amQ
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=74ul7XeQ ... re=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3nvPlsm550c
Jobee .012.
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