Saint Nicholas was my kind of Saint,
If sometimes short of temper.
Though pacifism was not his bent;
He was fidelis semper.
When Arius denied his Lord's
Divinity, Nick felt sore;
Decided acts speak more than words,
Felled Arius to the floor.
His kind of knock-down plagologue*
Is now not to our taste.
We value courteous dialogue
Above such wordless haste.
And yet there is a time, one feels
To strike and not to speak.
When Reason with Unreason deals,
It's reason which is weak.
For who can mould a brain of mud
With philosophic lore?
Better to thump the stupid crud.
His place is on the floor.
Note: Plagologue = arguing or reasoning with blows. This word does not appear in any dictionary. It is my own coinage, being derived from Latin 'plagus' = a blow, 'plagosus' = full of blows, violent, cognate with Greek 'plegein = to beat, and logos = reason.
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8 comments:
Brilliant. So brilliant that I'm afraid I snaffled it, in its entirety...
Thank you, thank you! Everything here is original and 'a poor thing, but mine own', unless attributed to someone else, like the Wordsworth and Chesterton poems.
Mine are mere verse.
Excellent! I enjoyed this immensely.
Excellent stuff.
"Better to thump the stupid crud": do I sense the spirit of Bowdler creeping in?
Ttony - Hee! Hee! Perish the thought! Bowdler, forsooth! I was simply constrained by rhyme ;)
@ Left-Footer
Thank you for this poetic muscular Christian story, which certainly rings a bell with me :-)
I was remanded in custody, charged with Threats to Kill, and ABH after a scrap at the Old Addeyans FC/ Densitron International PLC after I discovered that the NF/BNP leadership were being allowed to use the clubhouse for their malevolent 'Planning for Real' meetings.
Two not guilty verdicts, and almost twenty years later Father Finigan has today published a little poem of my own on his blog The hermeneutic of continuity :
@ Father Finigan
In the mid 1980's when Nelson Mandela was still residing in the segregation unit of a South African prison I was appointed as the site surveyor for the Unity Project in the London Borough of Southwark. Pelican House was the site office for this Housing Works, Direct Labour Contract.
As an idealistic newly qualified RICS surveyor just returning from a period of retreat at Mount Meleray in Ireland, the dream that I had the night before I started the UNITY project could only be interpreted and described as a BIG DREAM.
A SINNER'S DREAM OF MARY
When I was out a wandering upon the hills so green.
I spied myself a vision of a bright celestial Queen.
(Refrain)
A rosary,a rosary with rainbows all around.
A blood red cross she gave to me upon that hallowed ground.
She wore a crown of silver and in her arms she bore.
A child who was the future of mans peace and not of war.
(Refrain)
A rosary,a rosary with rainbows all around.
A blood red cross she gave to me upon that hallowed ground.
Corpus Christi woman was the lady that I saw.
Build inside she said to me mans inner self once more.
(Refrain)
A rosary,a rosary with rainbows all around.
A blood red cross she gave to me upon that hallowed ground.
Virgo praedicanda ora pro nobis!
Our Lady of the Rosary pray for us!
Vesper - thank you for sharing you beautiful poem - I have also thanked you at Mulier Fortis. If I was speechless, it was because of a heavy 36 hours of work and driving.
Please come back with more.
@ Left-Footer
"Jam lucis orto sidere" I'm glad that I have brightened Eeyore's Gloomy Place here on the internet.
36 hours of work and driving, or was it 8 hours work, 5 hours driving in snow, and 2 hours singing sea shanties?
My own 24/7 professional practice 1984-2010 once included a performance of the following song at the Towersey Folk Festival:
Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish Ladies,
Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain;
For we've received orders for to sail for ole England,
But we hope in a short time to see you again.
We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea.
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty five leagues.
We hove our ship to with the wind from sou'west, boys
We hove our ship to, deep soundings to take;
'Twas forty-five fathoms, with a white sandy bottom,
So we squared our main yard and up channel did make.
We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea.
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty five leagues.
The first land we sighted was called the Dodman,
Next Rame Head off Plymouth, off Portsmouth the Wight;
We sailed by Beachy, by Fairlight and Dover,
And then we bore up for the South Foreland light.
We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea.
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty five leagues.
Then the signal was made for the grand fleet to anchor,
And all in the Downs that night for to lie;
Let go your shank painter, let go your cat stopper!
Haul up your clewgarnets, let tacks and sheets fly!
We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea.
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty five leagues.
Now let ev'ry man drink off his full bumper,
And let ev'ry man drink off his full glass;
We'll drink and be jolly and drown melancholy,
And here's to the health of each true-hearted lass.
We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea.
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty five leagues.
I hope to attend 'The Secret Agent in the Apocalyptic Realm symposium' on Saturday January 8th at The Stephen Lawrence Gallery. This event is being held in association with the current exhibition: "Fireside Tales and Poolside Memoirs".
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