WildOx Blog

The Blog of John K. Baw - Gibraltar

Poem: Under the whips of underrate carriers

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(Photo credit: pixelfahrenheit20)

Under the whips of underrate carriers,

Like the emphasized,
We row to harder shores.

Under the whips of underrate carriers,
Our breath is shackled,
Our strength nigh gone.

Under the whips of underrate carriers,
The clouds shall part,
The sun will shine.

With eyes of hope,
through lips of praise,
We are yet to see our golden wings.

(c) 2011 - John K. Baw

Poem: If - By Rudyard Kipling.

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IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Remembering our fallen heroes

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Once a year our society stops and remembers.  We remember the young boys that went abroad to a foreign land and gave up all of their hopes, all of their dreams, all our their tomorrows, in order to give us our tomorrows.  There is a monument in Gibraltar, a “Cross of Sacrifice”, where once a year we pause to reflect and remember.  It is that time of the year again. 

In this vein, I love a poem written by Rudyard Kipling.  It is found in an inscription on a memorial in Ste. Marie, Ontario:
 
From little towns in a far land, we came,
To save our honour, and a world aflame;
By little towns in a far land, we sleep
And trust those things we won, to you to keep

Treading on the dreams of our children

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HAD I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

(Poem: "He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven" by William Butler Yeats)

This poem needs to be read by every Father and every Mother, every Teacher, every Sunday school teacher, every Pastor, every Coach.  Tread softly, because every day we tread on our children's dreams.

Poem: God - by Khalil Gibran

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God

In the ancient days, when the first quiver of speech came to my lips, I ascended the holy mountain and spoke unto God, saying, 'Master, I am thy slave. Thy hidden will is my law and I shall obey thee for ever more.'

But God made no answer, and like a mighty tempest passed away.

And after a thousand years I ascended the holy mountain and again spoke unto God, saying, 'Creator, I am thy creation. Out of clay hast thou fashioned me and to thee I owe mine all.'

And God made no answer, but like a thousand swift wings passed away.

And after a thousand years I climbed the holy mountain and spoke unto God again, saying, 'Father, I am thy son. In pity and love thou hast given me birth, and through love and worship I shall inherit thy kingdom.'

And God made no answer, and like the mist that veils the distant hills he passed away.

And after a thousand years I climbed the sacred mountain and again spoke unto God, saying, 'My God, my aim and my fulfilment; I am thy yesterday and thou art my tomorrow. I am thy root in the earth and thou art my flower in the sky, and together we grow before the face of the sun.'

Then God leaned over me, and in my ears whispered words of sweetness, and even as the sea that enfoldeth a brook that runneth down to her, he enfolded me.

And when I descended to the valleys and the plains, God was there also. 

~ Khalil Gibran (1883 - 1931 / Bsharri - Lebanon)

Poem: Gibraltar (Aaron Baw)

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~ The following poem was submitted by my son Aaron as part of the annual Gibraltar Heritage Trust competition.  It came second!  Way to go Aaron-boy!!!!!!

Gibraltar

Gibraltar is where I live, breathe, play
I walk along these streets day by day

Not many people know this city
Though I do find it a great pity

The things to do in such a small place
Let alone there's not so much space

Tourists come from here and there
To have a drink in Casemates Square

You can take the cable car up the rock
As long as you're back by six o'clock

There's an ice rink in the leisure center
We even have a TV presenter

When my brother's hair was curled
We'd never think we'd win Miss World

There are fun beaches like Catalan Bay
For all of you to spend the day

If you doubt me I'll scream out loud
I live in Gibraltar and I'm proud!