Re: The Cave
From: pandora (pandora_at_peak.org)
Date: 06/04/04
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Date: Thu, 3 Jun 2004 20:39:43 -0700
"Bill Orr" <billbernice1@earthlink.net> wrote in message
news:cxuvc.21050$be.20154@newsread2.news.pas.earthlink.net...
>
>
> --
> http://home.earthlink.net/~billbernice1/
> "Matthew Montchalin" <mmontcha@OregonVOS.net> wrote in message
> news:Pine.LNX.4.44.0406021404530.28662-100000@lab.oregonvos.net...
>
>
> A good poem, Matthew. I did'nt know you alread had a poem named "The
Cave".
> Now I'll have to call mine something else. Maybe "A Dark Hole in the Side
of a
> Hill"
> Of course, Leonardo Da Vinci had a little thing he called "The Cave" also
but I
> think his was more prose than poem.
>
> Cheers
> Bill
Not a problem. One cannot copyright a title. I have a *written* novel
entitled _Touch Not the Cat_. It seemed, to me, the most appropriate title.
There is, of course, another novel with that title by Mary Stewart. IF (a
big if) my novel were ever to be published, I would, of course, ask her if
she minded my using the same title. I also have an alternate title
(although not at good, IMO), that I could suggest to any publisher.
Marg
>
>
>
>
>
> Kentucky has a cave wherein
> > a Boy Scout troop sojourned;
> > where through some gaping jawlike grin
> > they'd squeezed on through and squirmed,
> >
> > and made their way, and did obey
> > their Troop Master's word as heard-
> > but come what may - they'd lost their way -
> > and, lo, they had lost a third.
> >
> > And dark as death they felt the breath
> > of drafts that passed them by
> > when one by one, they thought of death
> > and who might come next by,
> >
> > as losing light, they'd lose their sight-
> > and batteries long since spent,
> > without which light who knows who might
> > perceive the ways they went?
> >
> > Their Master to the Troop then said,
> > 'Observe just who goes first
> > for one of three may now be dead
> > we've hardly seen the worst!'
> >
> > A hundred boys were in the troop
> > when one by one, each enters
> > but crawling through a muddy loop
> > they'd lost two dozen members-
> >
> > And turned around, within the ground,
> > was when one thought to shout,
> > a flashlight there he'd surely'd found
> > though it had flickered out.
> >
> > The Master calling cried 'Roll Call!'
> > and they did, one by one,
> > positioned by a limestone wall,
> > again, they'd lost someone.
> >
> > Now, thirty nine remained there in
> > by the light that looming flickered
> > where others were, who knows wherein,
> > though thinking a joke, one snickered.
> >
> > And spreading out, they'd joined together
> > detecting their leader's light;
> > when some of them did think it better
> > to put out the other's light.
> >
> > A fight ensued and fists did fly,
> > and knapsacks opened fell
> > and from them batteries did lie
> > in places none could tell.
> >
> > Soon twenty nine had twenty five
> > dim flashlights there to share,
> > and hoping that one might survive
> > one Scout did think to swear-
> >
> > He used his lungs to swear 'By God!'
> > -by that oath that kept him going-
> > when fear within him chewed and gnawed-
> > he heard a river flowing.
> >
> > That gurgling rushing sound appears
> > to come from us behind,
> > and though it seems to sound quite fierce,
> > we'll follow it though blind.
> >
> > We'll go down there, we'll taste the air,
> > we'll wade our way back out,
> > though others there did think to swear
> > they'd had their share of doubt.
> >
> > But then their Master stumbled down
> > a limestone slope beside
> > the path that took him tumbling down
> > into it dark and wide.
> >
> > Engulfed, he gulped, and tried to float
> > but soon was also lost,
> > when those who stood there thought to vote
> > that they might not be lost.
> >
> > And having but one flashlight left,
> > no batt'ries fresh remaining,
> > the troop that stood there could have wept,
> > or could have cried, complaining,
> >
> > when one of them said, Tapping sounds!
> > By tapping, we'll survive!
> > We'll slam our hammers to announce
> > we're still down here, alive!
> >
> > And having hammers took to hit
> > the limestone walls there so
> > and so did hit - until a bit
> > of the ceiling fell below.
> >
> > Stalactites cracked and seemed to groan
> > to fill the empty black
> > when then, unknown to them alone,
> > another delivered a whack.
> >
> > 'No more, no more,' they tearful swore,
> > 'Don't slam upon those walls!'
> > When rocks descended to the floor
> > to drown out their last calls.
> >
> > And to this day, they're all down there,
> > a ghostly place entombed
> > that Boy Scout Troop that dared to swear
> > they're all as good as doomed.
> >
> > Kentucky has the coldest caves
> > and the longest ones around
> > but some, some fear, appear as graves
> > for those the Boy Scouts found.
> >
> > The Cave
> >
> > (c) 2004
> >
> > Matthew Montchalin
> >
> > Permission Granted to those who include this copyright notice.
> >
>
>
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