In highschool I had access to: In highschool I had access to a Scofield and another called Berkely all the while having my first go at the Living paraphrase. The Scofield had a padded bounding and was quite hefty in the hands and had a very engaging manner to read. Later on I got wind of complaints toward the Scofield which I now don't quite recall. But I remember quite distinctly the pleasure of reading its fresh and congenial text.
I have been reading poetry: I have been reading poetry for fifty years as of this month. That first stanza is one of the most beautiful descriptioms I have ever encountered in all those years of reading. I congratulate you on this magnificent poem!!!
I was very moved..: I was very moved by the courage it must have taken to write about such a horrible experience. Fortunately, I noticed what you wrote in the Author's Notes/Comments section. Thank God!
Thanks Patriciajj, it is: Thanks Patriciajj, it is quite the thing when this soul-soothing hope arises. Your kind words are likewise always appreciated, .
My friend, on The NFL: My friend, on The NFL, bets
He's as dumb as a person gets
One time he asked me
Was he serious? Gee!
Elton John
Been he on the Jets?
Thanks for the comment!
Thank you so much for this: Thank you so much for this comment, too. I must confess that I did not always put my recorder to good use. And I had plenty of bootleg music on it, as well as the audio tracks of many science fiction and ghost stories. The casette with the Night Gallery episode on it eventually failed and got tantled up in the gears of the recorder---most of my casettes, for that year, met that same problem. I finally had to ask for a better one from my parents, then wait until Christmas, and then have fewer Christmas gifts under the tree. By that time, Night Gallery was not being syndicated in our area, and I had to wait for over a decade to hear that great monologue again. Serling passed away a couple of years later (Colicos left us in 2000); but they, and the Titanic, had touched my life permanently.
Thanks again for the second comment.
That's okay, not a problem. : That's okay, not a problem. If you posted your comments on the Moon, more people would want to go there just to read them.
It was wise to allow this: It was wise to allow this poetic thriller to emerge in its own time rather than settle for anything less than excellence, and after savoring the captivating poem, decades in the making and no less marvelous than Rod Serling's narration (and I agree that his monologues had a "tragic beauty" that is impossible to replicate), I'm glad I had the privilege of witnessing the event.
Apparently you had a more productive use for your cassette recorder; mine churned out bootleg music on tapes that eventually got tangled up in the machine. (Oh the horror!)
Your enthusiasm for this achievement is certainly warranted. You've earned some bragging rights! Congratulations on this.
Rae, I know you are in: Rae, I know you are in Heaven, and though I miss my dear friend and one of my earliest readers, I know that we shall resume our friendship in Christ's eternal Kingdom, and in His timing. To say "rest in peace" is a cliche; I know that you rest in Christ, which is far better.
Thank you for that splendid: Thank you for that splendid comment, and for understanding what I was attempting to do.
In some ways, I have been waiting since the summer of 1972 to write this poem. Although my first instruction in Poetry was still eight months ahead in the future, I knew---as much as an awkward fourteen year old, still uncomfortable with my adolescent nature could know---that Rod Serling's words, in that episode of Night Gallery, constituted a real, bona fide poem, and was spoken as such by the highly talented actor, John Colicos. I recorded that episode on one of those small cassette audio recorders (remember them?) and I listened to them over and over again, haunted by the tragic beauty of Serling's words. Even though he did not know the ship broke apart at the last few minutes, that lack of knowledge has no affect on that marvelous monologue. My parents questioned, as they questioned so much of my natural preferences, why I should want to listen to that speech again and again; and I could not explain to them that it was a poem, not merely a small segment of a televised entertainment. After that, during any encounter I had---as a reader or viewer---with the legend of the Titanic, even Cameron's magnificent version, the words of Rod Serling, as delivered by John Colicos, always echoed in my mind. Earlier this month, I have watched several depictions of the disasterm on television as well as on YouTube, and I think that, at this late stage of my life, this poem was finally ready to---as some say about other situations---"come out."
Thanks again for reading the poem. I hope my enthusiasm for the poem does not seem to childish or self-centered. That ajward adolescent is still a part of me, with still clumsy effects as well.