With apologies to Walt Whitman, a little levity
O Captain, my Captain, our fearful trip is done
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
Fuck you, clown!
I couldn't help myself: I just had to make my own contribution to the very silly, but also very funny, "clowning around" with poetry at unfogged.com (via rubber hose). That last line really does make the poem perfect, doesn't it?
Monday, July 24, 2006
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