Titanic Remembered

Nature of the Titanic's damage wrought by the iceberg. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The iceberg suspected of sinking the RMS Titanic; a smudge of red paint much like the Titanic's stripe was seen near the base. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today marks the 100 year anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. Something about this great tragedy captivates the world’s imagination and refuses to be forgotten. Spending today with Susan watching all the specials on the sinking makes me feel sadness for the high number of human life lost. The wreck also causes me to see the arrogance people have on our ability to create and destroy like Gods.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last lifeboat arrived, filled with Titanic survivors. This photograph was taken by a passenger of the Carpathia, the ship that received the Titanic's distress signal and came to rescue the survivors. It shows the last lifeboat successfully launched from the Titanic. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

 

 

 

 

The following is a poem about the Titanic from Thomas Hardy, taken from the website http://www.melodylane.net/ianwhitcomb/twainpoem.html (Accessed on April 15, 2012).

The Convergence of the Twain

Thomas Hardy – 1912

(Lines on the loss of the “Titanic”)

I

In a solitude of the sea

Deep from human vanity,

And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.

II

Steel chambers, late the pyres

Of her salamandrine fires,

Cold currents thrid, and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres.

III

Over the mirrors meant

To glass the opulent

The sea-worm crawls — grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent.

IV

Jewels in joy designed

To ravish the sensuous mind

Lie lightless, all their sparkles bleared and black and blind.

V

Dim moon-eyed fishes near

Gaze at the gilded gear

And query: “What does this vaingloriousness down here?”. . .

VI

Well: while was fashioning

This creature of cleaving wing,

The Immanent Will that stirs and urges everything

VII

Prepared a sinister mate

For her — so gaily great —

A Shape of Ice, for the time fat and dissociate.

VIII

And as the smart ship grew

In stature, grace, and hue

In shadowy silent distance grew the Iceberg too.

IX

Alien they seemed to be:

No mortal eye could see

The intimate welding of their later history.

X

Or sign that they were bent

By paths coincident

On being anon twin halves of one August event,

XI

Till the Spinner of the Years

Said “Now!” And each one hears,

And consummation comes, and jars two hemispheres.

"Thomas Hardy," oil on panel, by the Scottish painter and engraver William Strang. 17 in. x 15 in. Courtesy of the National Portrait Gallery, London. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Metropolis

Just for clarification, the background image that you can barely see is from the German classic silent film Metropolis. Great movie!

Portrait of Jennie

I have never read this particular book, but the movie adaptation was beautiful to say the least. It comes on TCM often and is well worth watching. The star actors are Joseph Cotten, Jennifer Jones, and Ethyl Barrymore. I had never heard of it until about 2007, and it has since become one of my favorite movies. It left me with the same lonely poetic feeling I get when I read works by the great poets such as Keats or Shelley.

Standing On the Shores, Staring Out at the Vast Literary Ocean, Wishing I Were at Sea

Welcome. This is my new blog in which I am basically writing journal entries about the world in which I live. I am very new at this, and it is a work in progress. I am writing to no audience in particular. I guess my audience is myself. In my younger days I used to keep a journal, and I found it very rewarding, as well as therapeutic. It is a good way to keep my mind reflecting upon intellectual matters and not the mind-numbing waste the media throws at us all everyday. I read Fahrenheit 451 this year, and I see alarming similarities in our world and the setting of the book. I am determined to continue being an avid reader the rest of my days, and whoever chooses to can comment and throw in their valued opinions. I am a teacher by trade but a learner by nature, so I welcome comments, suggestions, and insights from all people. PLEASE feel free to post any comments you want, if you want. But please, I am a high school English teacher, and it is possible that students may surf in and out of my site, so I cannot allow vulgar, profane, or inappropriate content on this site.

Poetry has a wonderful relaxing effect on me. Twenty-five years after reading a certain poem, I still feel the overpowering sense of wonderment that comes when the “message” or imagery reveals itself; whereas I have read many novels in which I enjoyed the plot, felt it was a great literary classic, but yet could not tell you much about the story itself. A perfect example to this would be Fire and Ice by Frost. A very good friend of mine, Daryl, introduced it to me. I remember one day in 1988 we were discussing Tyger by Blake. Daryl, who was as passionately interested in poetry and anything intellectual that I was, began reciting Fire and Ice. A short poem that I have since memorized myself, it just blew me away. I still feel it when I “read” it in my mind. However, about four years later, I read Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. I remember absolutely loving the book, and I remember the main character was named Pip……and that is about all I can tell you of this book. Therefore, for now at least, the majority of my blog will be poems and my reflections of the poems I am reading.

Yesterday, I finished Paradise Lost by John Milton. I feel a great sense of pride in having read this literary classic. Not many people undertake this rewarding task of their own accord. I have heard several people over the course of my life criticize this book, lamenting that their Eng. IV teacher in high school made them read Book First. After reading it entirely of my own free will, which coincidentally “free will” is central to the work, I found it absolutely fascinating. I am now on The Second Book of Paradise Regained. It is much smaller, and I am reluctant to stop reading John Milton, so I may even continue reading his lesser poems. For now though, here is a poem I truly love.

Oft In The Stilly Night

Oft in the stilly night,                                                                                                       Ere Slumber’s chain has bound me,                                                                            Fond Memory brings the light                                                                                          Of other days around me;                                                                                              The smiles, the tears,                                                                                                       Of boyhood’s years,                                                                                                        The words of love then spoken,                                                                                    The eyes that shone                                                                                                      Now dimmed and gone,                                                                                                The cheerful hearts now broken!                                                                                  Thus in the stilly night,                                                                                                   Ere Slumber’s chain has bound me,                                                                             Sad Memory brings the light                                                                                            Of other days around me.

When I remember all                                                                                                     The friends, so link’d together,                                                                                       I’ve seen around me fall,                                                                                               Like leaves in wintry weather;                                                                                             I feel like one                                                                                                                Who treads alone                                                                                                            Some banquet-hall deserted,                                                                                          Whose lights are fled,                                                                                                Whose garland’s dead,                                                                                                  And all but he departed!                                                                                               Thus in the stilly night,                                                                                                   Ere Slumber’s chain has bound me,                                                                             Sad Memory brings the light                                                                                            Of other days around me.

by Thomas Moore

(I love you Dad, Jeff, Daryl, Betty, Janet, J. Ampey, John Sixfeathers, Jim Dixon, George Ondriezeke, and the many more who have passed on. You all have left an impact upon who I am).

Just trying out my new blog.

I have decided to try out the blogging world so as not to clutter up facebook with comments no one but myself is interested in :0) . I want to link it to facebook, but yet be seperate. So, this is a trial post to see if I know what the heck I am doing???