April is Poetry Month (April 13, 2016)

Some years ago, but still after I was an adult, my aunt told me that the boy in the Dreamworks logo, reminded her of me, as a child. I was flattered - I'm jealous of that boy - and I have to admit, he is sort of reminiscent. I had a pretty carefree childhood, most summer days spent without shoes, and I did a fair bit of fishing - often by myself. I still love fishing by myself. Anyway, my aunt's comment, and the logo inspired the following:

The Boy in the Moon

by J.E. Fountain

When I was young and did not know

That such things were not done

I rode the moon across the sky

One summer eve for fun

It seemed to me a natural thing

Indeed my only thought

A perch from which to cast my line

No matter what I caught

But once aloft in starry seas

I soon forgot my quest

And settled in my worthy craft

To sail from East to West

So thus reclined on crescent moon

I gazed at stars below

Reflected in the glassy pond

And stirred them with my toe

In time I reached the morning shore

And climbed down from my seat

I took my weary head to home

On star dipped shoeless feet

I always thought I'd ride again

One day, one day, a lie

For one day turns into the next

They're ever slipping by

And youth gives way, and youthful dreams

There is no time for fun

For now I'm old and know too well

What is and is not done



© 2015 Joseph E. Fountain

April is Poetry Month (April 9, 2016)

I am quite in agreement with the hostess of The Poetry Month Celebration, that poetry can dance and sway and frolic.

This will be a bit of a frolic.

Poetry month coincides with another important event: opening day of the baseball season. The Mighty Mighty Detroit Tigers are undefeated by the way.

So to celebrate both poetry and baseball, I give you a pair of baseball poems. One a classic, and one you’ve probably never heard of.

The first poem I remember liking was Casey at the Bat. Captain Kangaroo used to read it to me, and I loved it. It always made me a little sad though, so, I also offer Casey’s Revenge.

Casey at the Bat

by

Ernest Lawrence Thayer

The Outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day:
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, if only Casey could get but a whack at that -
We'd put up even money, now, with Casey at the bat.

But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.

But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.

Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped-
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said.

From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
And its likely they'd a-killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two."

"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville - mighty Casey has struck out.

Casey’s Revenge

by

Grantland Rice

There were saddened hearts in Mudville for a week or even more;
There were muttered oaths and curses- every fan in town was sore.
"Just think," said one, "how soft it looked with Casey at the bat,
And then to think he'd go and spring a bush league trick like that!"

All his past fame was forgotten- he was now a hopeless "shine."
They called him "Strike-Out Casey," from the mayor down the line;
And as he came to bat each day his bosom heaved a sigh,
While a look of hopeless fury shone in mighty Casey's eye.

He pondered in the days gone by that he had been their king,
That when he strolled up to the plate they made the welkin ring;
But now his nerve had vanished, for when he heard them hoot
He "fanned" or "popped out" daily, like some minor league recruit.

He soon began to sulk and loaf, his batting eye went lame;
No home runs on the score card now were chalked against his name;
The fans without exception gave the manager no peace,
For one and all kept clamoring for Casey's quick release.

The Mudville squad began to slump, the team was in the air;
Their playing went from bad to worse - nobody seemed to care.
"Back to the woods with Casey!" was the cry from Rooters' Row.
"Get some one who can hit the ball, and let that big dub go!"

The lane is long, some one has said, that never turns again,
And Fate, though fickle, often gives another chance to men;
And Casey smiled; his rugged face no longer wore a frown-
The pitcher who had started all the trouble came to town.

All Mudville had assembled - ten thousand fans had come
To see the twirler who had put big Casey on the bum;
And when he stepped into the box, the multitude went wild;
He doffed his cap in proud disdain, but Casey only smiled.

"Play ball!" the umpire's voice rang out, and then the game began.
But in that throng of thousands there was not a single fan
Who thought that Mudville had a chance, and with the setting sun
Their hopes sank low- the rival team was leading "four to one."

The last half of the ninth came round, with no change in the score;
But when the first man up hit safe, the crowd began to roar;
The din increased, the echo of ten thousand shouts was heard
When the pitcher hit the second and gave "four balls" to the third.

Three men on base - nobody out - three runs to tie the game!
A triple meant the highest niche in Mudville's hall of fame;
But here the rally ended and the gloom was deep as night,
When the fourth one "fouled to catcher" and the fifth "flew out to right."

A dismal groan in chorus came; a scowl was on each face
When Casey walked up, bat in hand, and slowly took his place;
His bloodshot eyes in fury gleamed, his teeth were clenched in hate;
He gave his cap a vicious hook and pounded on the plate.

But fame is fleeting as the wind and glory fades away;
There were no wild and woolly cheers, no glad acclaim this day;
They hissed and groaned and hooted as they clamored: "Strike him out!"
But Casey gave no outward sign that he had heard this shout.

The pitcher smiled and cut one loose - across the plate it sped;
Another hiss, another groan. "Strike one!" the umpire said.
Zip! Like a shot the second curve broke just below the knee.
"Strike two!" the umpire roared aloud; but Casey made no plea.

No roasting for the umpire now - his was an easy lot;
But here the pitcher whirled again- was that a rifle shot?
A whack, a crack, and out through the space the leather pellet flew,
A blot against the distant sky, a speck against the blue.

Above the fence in center field in rapid whirling flight
The sphere sailed on - the blot grew dim and then was lost to sight.
Ten thousand hats were thrown in air, ten thousand threw a fit,
But no one ever found the ball that mighty Casey hit.

O, somewhere in this favored land dark clouds may hide the sun,
And somewhere bands no longer play and children have no fun!
And somewhere over blighted lives there hangs a heavy pall,
But Mudville hearts are happy now, for Casey hit the ball.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (68 down, 32 to go)

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife." ~ Opening line

This is the first time I’ve read Pride and Prejudice and the second work I’ve read by Jane Austen. Pride and Prejudice is a third-person narrative, Romantic era novel. It tells the story of the Bennet family, early 19th century England, and particularly of the two eldest daughters, Jane and Elizabeth. 

This novel satisfies category one: A 19th Century Classic, from the Back to the Classics Challenge 2016.

My rating: 4 stars

In short, I loved it.

Mr. Bennet, is an English gentleman whose estate is irrevocably entailed to his nearest surviving male relative. As Mr. Bennet has only daughters, five in all, the estate is to be settled on his nephew, Mr. Collins. But as I said, the story is mostly about Jane and Elizabeth (Lizzy). More precisely, Lizzy is the main character, while Jane, her dearest friend and confidante is only slightly less significant. Lizzy is the favorite of her father, and the least favorite of her mother. Both are fond of Jane. Mr. Bennet believes his three youngest, Catherine (Kitty), Mary and Lydia are simple and silly, much like his wife.

I liked Pride and Prejudice, perhaps a bit more than Emma. Having read two Austen novels, I am now an expert. They go something like this.

Among a crowd of laughable and likeable characters, emerge two people perfectly suited for each other, but maddeningly blind to it themselves. Fate or circumstance, gradually bring the two slowly together, but when they finally overcome their own prejudices, they are prevented from obstacles of rank, duty, convention, or familial responsibility.

Don’t mistake my glib description as criticism. It is not. It is a time-honored motif, employed in many eras, by many great writers, producing many superb tales. It works well, but it requires a writer of some craft. In this instance, Austen approached genius.

None of the Bennet girls have much hope in society other than to marry well. This is not at all hopeless as Jane and Elizabeth at least, are considered great beauties. When Mr. Collins comes to call, already heir to the estate, he clearly intends to improve his position by winning the hand of one of his cousins. He first sets his sights on Jane, but learns that she has an admirer and quickly transfers his interest to Lizzy. If ever there was a terrible match, it would be Mr. Collins and Lizzy. He is pompous and officious, whereas Lizzy is intelligent, witty, discerning and sincere. Mr. Collins cannot conceive that any woman would refuse him, and Lizzy cannot imagine any would have him.

Bit more on Mr. Collins: he never reads novels. Who could like such a man?

Enter Mr. Darcy: extremely wealthy, tall and handsome, aloof and proud. And the time-honored motif is set, but as I’ve implied, Austen does an extraordinary job of confounding what the reader so desperately believes must happen.

Bravo!

His [Mr. Darcy] understanding and temper, though unlike her own [Lizzy], would have answered all her wishes. It was an union that must have been to the advantage of both; by her ease and liveliness his mind might have been softened, his manners improved, and from his judgment, information, and knowledge of the world, she must have received benefit of greater importance.

Film Rendition: I’ve only seen the 1995 A&E mini-series, starring Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth. I thought it was an excellent portrayal and superbly cast. In the novel, Lizzy is often described as having fine or beautiful eyes and I’m not certain there’s an actress in Hollywood with such beautiful eyes as Jennifer Ehle.

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