I speak of love that comes to mind:
The moon is faithful, although blind;
She moves in thought she cannot speak.
Perfect care has made her bleak.
I never dreamed the sea so deep,
The earth so dark; so long my sleep,
I have become another child.
I wake to see the world go wild.
— Allen Ginsberg, An Eastern Ballad
Posted by daddybear71 on June 3, 2016
https://daddybearsden.com/2016/06/03/a-year-of-poetry-day-41/
Posted by daddybear71 on June 2, 2016
https://daddybearsden.com/2016/06/02/musings-197/
A little kingdom I possess
where thoughts and feelings dwell,
And very hard I find the task
of governing it well;
For passion tempts and troubles me,
A wayward will misleads,
And selfishness its shadow casts
On all my words and deeds.
How can I learn to rule myself,
to be the child I should,
Honest and brave, nor ever tire
Of trying to be good?
How can I keep a sunny soul
To shine along life’s way?
How can I tune my little heart
To sweetly sing all day?
Dear Father, help me with the love
that casteth out my fear;
Teach me to lean on thee, and feel
That thou art very near,
That no temptation is unseen
No childish grief too small,
Since thou, with patience infinite,
Doth soothe and comfort all.
I do not ask for any crown
But that which all may win
Nor seek to conquer any world
Except the one within.
Be thou my guide until I find,
Led by a tender hand,
Thy happy kingdom in myself
And dare to take command.
— Louisa May Alcott, My Kingdom
Posted by daddybear71 on June 2, 2016
https://daddybearsden.com/2016/06/02/a-year-of-poetry-day-40/
On May 31 to June 1, 1916, the British Grand Fleet and the German High Seas Fleet faced off in a battle both had been preparing for over the course of a generation. The naval arms race between the European powers has long been noted as a cause for the First World War, and the Battle of Jutland pitted the cream of the crop on both sides against each other.
The German fleet, with the exception of submarines and commerce raiders, had been a virtual non-entity in the war so far. The British Navy, on the other hand, was slowly strangling Germany through blockade. The Germans hoped to lure the British into a smashing defeat at sea. This would release their grip on the German home front’s throat and allow the Germans to more effectively use their heavy ships to impact the ever-increasing shipment of Allied supplies from North America.
Reading accounts of Jutland show how being prepared, paying attention to all information, not just what you think is important, and having a little luck on your side can sway the critical moments in life. At any given moment, either side could have smashed the other, or been smashed in its turn. Larger British ships and guns were able to bring more firepower to bear, but better German gunnery effectively countered them. Commanders on both sides made both mistakes and showed genius. In the end, the British had greater losses, but it was the British Grand Fleet that held the sea lanes at the end of the battle.
Jutland was the only large sea battle of the war, and while the British came through it with a bloody nose, both in loss of ships and men, the German High Seas Fleet returned to port and stayed there until the end of the war. The return to the status quo eventually led to mutinies in the High Seas Fleet and the political and social conditions that forced the Germans to the bargaining table in 1918.
Posted by daddybear71 on June 1, 2016
https://daddybearsden.com/2016/06/01/100-years-on-jutland/
Jim Curtis, also known as OldNFO, has dipped his toes into the military science fiction pool, and spins yet another great yarn in Rimworld: Stranded. In it, a maintenance technician misses the “Oh crap, we gotta go!” message when aliens attack his outpost, and is left behind to deal with the invaders with only what he knows and what he has on hand. The story and character are a break from the regular “I’ve been training all my life for this!” heroes in the genre. He makes mistakes, has human reactions to bad situations, and is really easy to connect with.
This is a great, quick read for anyone who enjoys mil-SF. Curtis’ skill as a storyteller shines through, and his writing is crisp and to the point. I heartily recommend this one.
Posted by daddybear71 on June 1, 2016
https://daddybearsden.com/2016/06/01/review-rimworld-stranded/
Posted by daddybear71 on June 1, 2016
https://daddybearsden.com/2016/06/01/a-year-of-poetry-day-39/
The prairie-grass dividing, its special odor breathing,
I demand of it the spiritual corresponding,
Demand the most copious and close companionship of men,
Demand the blades to rise of words, acts, beings,
Those of the open atmosphere, coarse, sunlit, fresh, nutritious,
Those that go their own gait, erect, stepping with freedom and
command, leading not following,
Those with a never-quell'd audacity, those with sweet and lusty
flesh clear of taint,
Those that look carelessly in the faces of Presidents and governors,
as to say Who are you?
Those of earth-born passion, simple, never constrain'd, never obedient,
Those of inland America.
--Walt Whitman, The Prairie-Grass Dividing
Posted by daddybear71 on May 31, 2016
https://daddybearsden.com/2016/05/31/a-year-of-poetry-day-38/
Day is done, gone the sun
From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky
All is well, safely rest
God is nigh
Fading light dims the sight
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright
From afar, drawing near
Falls the night
Thanks and praise for our days
Neath the sun, neath the stars, neath the sky
As we go, this we know
God is nigh.
— Horace Lorenzo Trim, Taps
Posted by daddybear71 on May 30, 2016
https://daddybearsden.com/2016/05/30/a-year-of-poetry-day-37/
Posted by daddybear71 on May 29, 2016
https://daddybearsden.com/2016/05/29/musings-196/
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear —
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.’
— Percy Shelley, Ozymandias
Posted by daddybear71 on May 29, 2016
https://daddybearsden.com/2016/05/29/a-year-of-poetry-day-36/
DaddyBear’s Den 