.
I
One fateful night a grand old ship was gone,
So many lost their lives, not all were saved.
The ship did sink before the morning dawn.
The sea made over fifteen hundred graves
On that so sad and fateful April night
As that sharp iceberg the ship””s side did graze.
The crew and captain tried with all their might
To save as many people as they could.
In only twenty lifeboats for their plight
The captain ordered his crew, as he should,
The women and the children first he cried
And making all men stay back where they stood.
There were not near enough boats to provide
All people room, so many had to die.
II
“I want every man to act like a man
For manhood””s sake”, the captain did command
With gun in hand and trouble now began.
He finally called out his last demand,
The captain did shout “Each man save himself.”
At that last moment death was close at hand.
A panic grew; all were to save themselves.
The ship was sinking rapidly below
And soon would be a memory itself.
The captain had one last gift to bestow
A child he saved from waters deep cold grave
Then he swam back to his ship like a pro
The captain was a man so great and brave
For his last act on earth was the child saved.
III
The ship “Titanic” was suppose to be
Unsinkable, but to the bottom it sank,
And leaving watery grave of debris.
They say the ship was elegant and swank
A grand place with much grace and style, but
The decks were all divided by class rank
Top decks you might find them walk with a strut
While down below they might have been low class
They still had parties like the upper cut.
But all the grand and finery of brass
Could not have saved their lives back then that night
When this great ship went down and sunk at last.
So as the band played on with death in sight
In some small way they gave the final death rites.
Poem Style – Terra Rima / Poem Catagory – Titanic
Written by Lady Kathleen
Kathleen,
Your Great-Great Uncle would be proud!
Love your poem…here’s mine. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did yours.
The Pride Of The White Star Line (TITANIC 1912 – 2012)
It was a frantic day, the 31st of March,
A century ago, in 1909;
The Harland & Wolff shipyard, in Ireland’s Belfast,
Began a construction, working to a strict dead-line.
The first steel was laid, on a massive scale,
And over two years, a ship was born;
And on 31st of May, in 1911
The hull was launched, one misty dawn.
The largest passenger steam ship, to grace the seas,
Eight hundred and eighty two feet long, and ninety two feet wide,
The jewel of the famous White Star Line
Was fitted out, to combat the tides.
A colossus rose from the riveted plates,
Luxury promised to those, wealthy and rich,
One hundred and seventy-five feet high, from keel to funnel,
Construction was completed, with barely a hitch.
Boasting nine decks for passengers, to live like Kings,
This forty-six thousand tons, of floating steel,
Attracted business people of status, for it’s maiden voyage,
It’s vast size, held a strong appeal.
R.M.S. Titanic was classed as “unsinkable”,
It’s hundred and fifty-nine furnaces, fuelled by coal,
Fed power to the twenty-nine boilers,
To produce the twenty-three knots, she would go.
Sea trials successful; her Captain, Edward J. Smith,
Commanding eight hundred and eighty-five crew on his ship,
Docked in southern England,
Was stocked, and prepared; fully equipped.
Her four funnels towered above everything around,
Each one stood sixty-two feet high, in relation;
Only three of them, though, were functional,
The fourth, was for ventilation.
The quayside was packed with admirers and onlookers,
Who gaped at this gigantic ship, in awe;
They wondered how such a thing could float,
And were mesmerised, by what they saw.
Her maiden voyage to New York, was a fantastic event,
As passengers boarded the ship in Southampton’s waters.
Lords and Ladies: servants and business men,
Families, with their sons and daughters.
Excitement was mounting, as their numbers increased,
Until it was time for this elite hoard,
To wave back to the crowds on the dockside…
There were twenty-two hundred and twenty-three people on board.
She had a short trip, before the main journey began,
As there were passengers in Cherbourg, in France;
A short stop, to load them and their luggage,
Having paid for their tickets, in advance.
The ropes were cast off, and sirens blasted,
Engines fired up, and the stern waters boiled;
But the wake caused by the movement of this mass of metal
Meant the 10th of April’s departure, was almost spoiled.
The S.S.New York, broke loose from her moorings,
As Titanic’s wake made her rise, and sway;
They came dangerously close to a collision,
Before the New York was towed away.
A bit of excitement for those onboard ship,
Set their hearts pounding, and pulses racing;
Privileged to be on the maiden voyage,
Looking forward to the trip they were facing.
Unbeknown to the Captain, there was a stowaway on board,
But, twenty-three year old John Coffey had a lingering doubt,
After hiding in the lifeboats, he had a horrible premonition,
And couldn’t wait for a chance to get out.
After leaving Cherbourg, Titanic sailed for Queenstown,
In Southern Ireland, where the lad escaped ashore;
Later he worked on The Mauritania”, but said
He couldn’t hide out, in fear, any more.
Titanic was too large for the Queenstown port,
So had to drop anchor, just off the land;
Tenders ferried passengers, back and forth,
And crew members gave a helping hand.
At last, the big journey – the Atlantic Ocean,
A crossing so luxurious, in their salubrious surroundings,
Surely the doubts held by the stowaway lad
Couldn’t have any substantial founding.
The drinks flowed constantly; food fit for a King,
Dinner suits escorted ladies, in evening gowns;
The curved staircase, a prominent feature,
As music and laughter sounded, all around.
They’d been four days at sea, and children were in bed,
Snuggling down, as they had been told;
Dancing still continued, at half past eleven,
The Atlantic weather had turned really cold.
From the decks, the view was of total darkness,
Wherever you looked, everywhere seemed to be black;
Couples shivered in the chill, and with wind in their hair,
Decided it was time to be going back.
From the ink-black darkness, appeared a shape,
It encroached rapidly, on the starboard side;
The man on watch shouted out a warning,
Thirty-seven seconds later, it wrecked White Star Line’s pride.
An iceberg tore into the hull of the ship,
Buckling steel plates, beneath the waterline;
A ninety metre section, popped rivets apart,
The radio transmitted it’s warning sign.
Thousands of gallons of water poured into the ship,
The crunching tremor spread, throughout it’s length;
Panic grew amongst passengers, and members of crew,
As water gushed through compartments, with tremendous strength.
The ship listed to one side, as it’s balance was evoked,
Screaming bodies fought, to reach the open air;
Decks swarmed with people, fighting for safety,
And lifeboats were launched, for them to share.
It was eleven-forty p.m. when the ship struck the berg,
1912; On April’s fourteenth day;
it only took two minutes, to cause this panic,
as the four-funnelled ambassador, began to sway.
The policy of the ship was “Women and Children First”,
As they were bundled unceremoniously, into the boats;
But the lifeboats were too few to hold everyone,
So some jumped in the sea, grabbing debris afloat.
The stern began to rise in the black of the night,
It’s propellers were exposed to the sky;
The funnels tumbled, and crashed onto the deck,
Catapulting bodies into the depths, to die.
On the fifteenth of April, the ship sank from the scene,
Two-twenty a.m. , after only three hours;
Those forty-six thousand tons, with hundreds on board,
Sank into the depths, despite it’s awesome power.
Scantily clad bodies were exposed to the cold,
Many clung to floating debris, topping the ocean;
Bodies had been trampled, in the crush to survive,
Amid the on board race, during the night’s commotion.
The ship had broken in two, as it plummeted the depths,
And sank to the bed of the Atlantic;
Hypothermia accounted for many poor souls,
The prevailing chaos was hysterical, and frantic.
R.M.S. Carpathia, was first on the scene
To pick up as many survivors as she possibly could;
Her approach was hindered by the unrestrained rubble,
Floating bodies, and section of wood.
Only seven hundred and six survived this maritime disaster,
The greatest tragedy to strike at sea;
The “Unsinkable” had been beaten, by a natural source,
That drifted the Atlantic, uncharted and free.
Memorials today, stand in several locations,
To mark and honour those who perished that day;
In Belfast, Southampton and on America’s coast,
People gather, and silently pray.
The promise of splendour, that so many enjoyed,
As they traversed the waters in that part of the World,
Never aware of the future, that faced them ahead,
As the tragedy of their sailing, unfurled.
Films have been made, to chart the short life of the ship,
As it’s voyage was recorded, in grand tradition.
Now, salvaged artefacts appear, throughout the World,
As they’re viewed, at “TITANIC” exhibitions.
© Jim Bell
Chatham
Kent
Not only did I like your poem I also approved your comment so others may read it too.
Thank You