The Lake by Keaton Henson on #SoundCloud
Professor Wellington’s Joan:
Professor George Wellington
Came Into Class
His Hair Outgrown Deshiveled
And Gray
Squinting Through
His Wired Glasses
Removing Blowing
Breath At Them
Then Proceeding To Wipe Them
“There That’s Better Now”
The Class Was Large
Descending In Steps
Young Minds With
All Different Thoughts
Ready To Be Challenged
Or So He Thought
“Very well I suppose you
all know my name.
Yes, I am Professor Wellington.
The class you signed up for is a Study Of History with Philosophy, and last but not least Poetry of Love”
“Yes I suppose many of you are thinking what does he know about love. We shall find out & see”
The Roman Empire in 27 b.c.
Charles The 1st (I suppose the one and only) made his mark
Emperor of The Holy Roman Empire from 800 through 814
I present to you the following poem quite a fieryverse as they say
Charlemagne
The Autocracy Of
Absolute Power
Battles Ensued
At Carthage
Soldiers Were Worn
Sunburnt
In The Deathly Silence
Of War and Decay
May They Rest In Peace
Your material for tonight is to read Chapters 1 and 2. Jot down the poem and let that influence and inspire your creative juices and write one yourself for class on Wednesday.
“Second Assigment for extra credit will involve the next poem. My advice to you is to do the extra credit for I tend to be selfish giving out passing grades”
In A Renaissance Time
Ciceronian Making Headway
To Which
Style Of Cicero’s De Oratore
Spoke To
Writers, Oraters,
Wrote & Created
In The Quietness Of Space
“Very well see you all on Wednesday same time and you are all dismissed to enjoy your lunch leisureally as I will mine”
That night at his old worn desk, papers scattered about Professor Wellington usually talked to himself thinking Joan was still by his side.
“Well I’m having a bit of a spell
An Alchemy
There Before
An Obscure Thought
Within These Paper
Walls Of My Mind
Now Questioning
Damn it Man!
I Am Not Losing My Grip
Write and Process
It Will Come
You Know Better Than This Old Chap
And there it was as he turned the page his first poem he wrote about love…
It had Spills and Marks
Paper Worn Thin With Age
But a Poem of Love
He Cleared His Throat
Then read It out loud to himself
The Souls
Of Unrequited Love
Remain In The
Quiet Madness
Of Disparity
It Is A Pain
Like No Other
Merciful Lord
Help Me
Then he remembered his first and only love Joan or as he called her “Joan of Arc.” She was a devil of a girl ready to take on the world. High spirited and to those who challenged her unrelenting accost, fight to the last word.
And there it was Joan’s two favorite poems.
I Ask
Are We Not
Equal Parts Of
Complicated
Charlatans
Always Taking It
A Deep Further
The Gestalt of Insanity
A Unified Influence
For Our Greed
In Corners
Of Deprived Souls
They Tread Unsteady
But With Resilience
They Cross The Threshold
Not Broken Nor Beaten
Reviving All Decimated Dreams
And We Survive
Then the poem she had written for her father after years living with Dementia
Wavered
In Ambiguity
A Fallacy
In Absurdity
Constant
Babelism
He Was
Lost and Then Found
But Remained Lost
In The Jungle
Of His Mind
To You Dear Father
Then it was Joan herself torment ridden with the same disease.
She would say “George I wrote a poem before this illness robs me of my mind and creativity but to remind you how I fought mentally. Then you can read it to me when the time comes”
Within The Confines
Of Her Darkest
Moments
The Love He
Offered Her
Will Never
Escape Her
Lucid Daydreams
In Moments
Of Purest Love
To My George With Love Joan
She wrote another poem before the time would come to just breathe and stare stoically.
Her Words
Of Atticism
Romanticism
Were A Touch Exaggerated
My Love Is An Ocean
Filled Of Blissful Waves
Complicated When
A Storm Rises
Hahaha Her and George would laugh describing some of their heated arguements always about politics.
He knew she secretly wanting to run for office and make her crux. She was a free spirit and a fighter for democracy.
Joan would always write a poem for the pivotal times in her life. This one for the day she married George.
Her Skin Glowed
Hair Of Luster
Beneath Thy Viel
Embraced By Time
Remembering
Her Words Of Matrimony
Vows Of Atticism
Eloquently Said
If I say so myself.
The Night Of Our Wedding
To You George.
Professor Wellington
Fell To Sleep On His Desk
A Dim Light
Casting The Shadows Of Darkness
He Rested He Lived He Loved He Taught By Example
Poem Of Verses 5
©Natalie Keshing
From NatsWritingsMind BridgingTheGap Around The World
©Natalie Keshing Editor-in-Chief of natswritings.com nataliekeshing.com
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[…] Poem of Verses Five “Professor Wellington” […]
Thank you Chas for believing in me. That is your gift to me. So Lucky.
Natalie Keshing,thanks so much for the post.Really thank you! Great.
March 4, 2018
Dear Witzigmann,
Thank you. I had forgotten the poetry I wrote not intentionally for the story but eventually weaved into the story in what I call the Poem of Versus. I was part of an underground society of poets I came like a glimmer of hope and I shined until my independence and fiery passionate soul stood up to the Queen of Poetry and that was that. But I might add she wasn’t the real Queen I came to know as a friend who admired my mind and stories and I admired her poetry.
I am suffering in my mind to take on such a task that it eating alive this country. The corruption and horrible crimes these past Presidents have committed is almost too much for any of us to want to know. It does color life and your mind in the deepest darkest ways. I was completely naive when I started down this very maleficent unethical path and not a treasure trove of goodness but what seems like a nightmare in the bright of day. But I must admit your thanks allowed me to unload the heaviness and now a burden I carry each day for exposing the unbelievable truth and I thank you for that and liking Professor Wellington. Have a wonderful day and please drop by anytime. I welcome you. ~ Always Natalie
Thanks, James A. Tweedie. If I’m not mistaken, it was George Bernard Shaw who sneered at Parry’s music, saying among other things that “Blest Pair of Sirens” was not as great as the poem it set to music. Shaw despised all three of the top English composers of the time (who all respected each others work). He said in effect that they were a mutual admiration society. Thanks for enlightening me about Frederick Charles Maker being the composer of “Rest” as the music for Whittier’s poem. I was raised outside the Anglican tradition and Maker’s setting was indeed the one I knew. It is as you say quiet and thoughtful. My father loved poetry and among his tip top favourite poems was Whittier’s “Snowbound.” He quoted short passages from it occasionally though more often he recited the entire “The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers” by Felicia Dorohea Hemans. He always delivered the final lines in a hortatory, ecstatic voice: What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?— 35 They sought a faith’s pure shrine! Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod: They have left unstained what there they found,— Freedom to worship God.
Wonderful Marc, I must admit your knowledge in poetry exceeds mine but I welcome this knowledge wholeheartedly and will read the poetry with your cited excerpts that has captured a profoundness I yearn for and most of all my imagination. Thank you. Stay tuned! ~ Natalie