The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (2016)
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (2016)
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (2016)
Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary Queen the praise be given!
She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven,
That slid into my soul.
The silly buckets on the deck,
That had so long remained,
I dreamt that they were filled with dew;
And when I awoke, it rained.
My lips were wet, my throat was cold,
My garments all were dank;
Sure I had drunken in my dreams,
And still my body drank.
Soon I heard a roaring wind:
It did not come anear;
But with its sound it shook the sails,
That were so thin and sere.
The loud wind never reached the ship,
Yet now the ship moved on!
Beneath the lightning and the Moon
The dead men gave a groan.
They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;
It had been strange, even in a dream,
To have seen those dead men rise.
The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;
Yet never a breeze up-blew;
The mariners all ‘gan work the ropes,
Where they were wont to do;
They raised their limbs like lifeless tools —
We were a ghastly crew.
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I looked upon the rotting sea,
And drew my eyes away;
I looked upon the rotting deck,
And there the dead men lay.
I looked to heaven, and tried to pray;
But or ever a prayer had gushed,
A wicked whisper came and made
My heart as dry as dust.
An orphan’s curse would drag to hell
A spirit from on high;
But oh! more horrible than that Is the curse in a dead man’s eye!
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.
Beyond the shadow of the ship,
I watched the water snakes:
They moved in tracks of shining white,
And when they reared, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.
O happy living things! no tongue
Their beauty might declare:
A spring of love gushed from my heart,
And I blessed them unaware:
Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
And I blessed them unaware.
The self-same moment I could pray;
And from my neck so free
The Albatross fell off, and sank
Like lead into the sea.
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I tell this story to rid my pain
This story of all the things I regret
The pain makes walk and walk to find the next man
I want to avoid it and forget.
Yet I can’t it’s just too strong
I just have to stop
When I see their face something just goes “pop”
No matter how much I try I can’t just move along.
I can’t run
I can’t hide
I just have to sit
And tell my story to whoever is chosen by “it”.
The curse the pain whatever it may be
Maybe that albatross is still haunting me.
It could be life in death or any of her mates
But all I know is this pain brings my hate.
Listen to nature
It is the way
It will not just fix itself
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There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! a weary time!
How glazed each weary eye,
When looking westward, I beheld
A something in the sky.
At first it seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed a mist;
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.
The western wave was all a-flame,
The day was well nigh done!
Almost upon the western wave
Rested the broad bright Sun;
When that strange shape drove suddenly
Betwixt us and the Sun.
And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven’s Mother send us grace!)
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered
With broad and burning face.
There were two on this ship, a skeleton and his mate
Who seemed to be a woman long deceased,
Playing a game of dice both with a look of hate
The woman exclaimed a victory and the game ceased.
Four times fifty living men,
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropped down one by one.
The souls did from their bodies fly —
They fled to bliss or woe!
And every soul, it passed me by,
Like the whizz of my cross-bow!
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Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.
My crew, they knew the doom I brought upon us
They hung the albatross around my neck to show me what I have done
No matter what I said or asked they would not discuss
For all they wanted was for my life to be none.
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There is a story I must tell
To help me live in peace.
Reciting it stops the living hell…
the story lies beneath.
The ship was cheered and the harbor cleared,
Merrily we did drop,
Below the kirk, below the hill
Below the lighthouse top…
The Storm-Blast came,and he
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o’ertaking wings,
And chased us south along
We came to a land of mist and cold
Between tall icy cliffs,
We kept straight and acted bold
Though were were lost within these cliffs
At length did cross an Albatross,
Thorough the fog it came;
As it had been a Christian soul,
We hailed it in God’s name
“God save thee, ancient Mariner,
From the fiends that plague thee thus!
Why look’st thou so?”
With my crossbow
I shot the Albatross…
Wait for more
to help stop the pain…
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Do you or someone you know live alone with more than four cats? That makes you a crazy cat lady/man. It’s time to change. Instead of cats you need chickens. Chickens will be perfect for you; they are friendly, cute and cuddly. You are able to leave chickens alone for hours without having to worry about them, or your house; just like your cat. Everything you love about your cats, you will love about your chickens. Chickens make eggs you will never need to buy them again! Chickens also give you a better image, you will no longer be a crazy cat lady. You will just be saving money on eggs and giving homes to chickens. Chickens are the perfect solution to being a crazy cat lady.
Spassky and Fischer continue to face off in the most anticipated chess match in history, but people are more concerned with…
Who killed those two flies…and why?
The Russians were suspicious that Fischer was using electronic devices or radiation to sabotage Spassky’s play, but it turns out that something even more sinister had taken place. When the Russians X-rayed and stripped down the chair, instead of finding electronic devices or radioactive residue, they found two dead flies. Now these two flies may have been killed by accident, but evidence suggests otherwise. Forensics have shown that the blunt force trauma which caused the deaths of the flies were not from Spassky squashing them with his large Russian bum, but were in fact two separate incidences carried out by hand. Fingerprints from many different people are all over the chair, which makes the odds of catching the killer slim to none. Officials are saying that waiting until the killer strikes again may be our only chance. One of our reporters had a opportunity to speak with a local fly about the situation. “VZZZZBZZZGZZZ” the fly said. A troubling day for her and her family. We will be keeping you up to date as details about the case are released.
I ran through the woods, dodging every branch, tree and log that rose up out of the fog ahead of me. I knew it was behind me, chasing me down, maybe even gaining on me. But it didn’t matter, I didn’t care. All I knew was that I had to keep running. That my life depended on it. That everything I was, everything I knew would be lost if it caught me. So I ran.
Only I wasn’t running, I was flying. Falling might be a more accurate term. I had tripped over a tree root, and now I was falling. I landed, hard, on the ground, narrowly missing slamming my head on a rock protruding from the ground. I heaved myself to my feet, and stumbled, but I kept running. As I ran, I thought about what had happened, how I had gotten here, to this place. But I couldn’t remember. It refused to come to me, refused to appear. I almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. I was fleeing through the woods, running from something I couldn’t possibly put into words, and I couldn’t recall how I got there.
My legs were getting tired, my breathing fast and hard. I had to rest, but what would I do, what could I do if it caught up with me? I decided I would think about it when it happened–if it happened. I had to keep running, but I couldn’t. So I slowed down, and threw myself against a tree, crouching, panting, trying to catch my breath. Trying to recover, so if I heard a snap of twigs behind me, I might have another chance at getting away. All I could do now was wait. Wait for my breath to become slow and controlled, or wait for the snap I surprisingly wasn’t dreading.
I felt it before I heard it. The presence of the thing. It brushed up against a bush, causing it to rustle. My heart quickened, my breathing becoming faster, as I prepared to take off, to keep fleeing.
So I ran.
It’s the waiting that gets you. I’m just sitting there shaking, I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or the nerves that are settling into my stomach. The announcer at the in gate starts to call out the order “Stephanie is at my gate, Sarah in one, Liz in two, Nick in three, Hadley in four, Morris in five to complete.”
Oh geez… I’m in four. My stomach turns again. My head is pounding inside my helmet. I can feel every place it connects to my head my hair is tucked up inside, and I can feel Carousel taking a breath underneath me; I give him a pat. He’s been so good lately I need to stop worrying. Carousel is my third horse and I have had him for just over a year. This is our first A rated show of the season and if I want to place at the end of the year I need to do well at this show. Carousel still has a lot to learn but he’s getting there faster than I expected, he is very honest and wants to do his job as best he can.
Deep breath Hadley, deep breath, Carousel will help you, deep breath it will be fine, what’s the worst that could happen. I keep repeating that over and over in my head, deep breath. My coach steps out from the announcer’s box and walks over. She just has to look at me to know that I’m freaking out, she has known me for way too long.
“Okay, breathe and let’s go over the track.” Andrea says. Right, where am I going?
“Pink going to the back, blue to the blue, gallop around to the yellow with the flowers, quick turn to the puzzle piece jump, left turn and gallop of the in and out, then steady for the green. The jump off is; blue, puzzle piece, green and the orange at the end.”
“Perfect you got it, once this horse goes it’s you, don’t forget to breathe.” Andrea smiles and goes back under the cover of the box.
I look out at the ring and go over the track again in my head. It’s okay, I know where I’m going, it’s going to be fine. I’m talking to myself, the nerves are definitely getting to me. My stomach does another flip, my heart beat is in my head, and the horse comes out of the ring and it’s my turn. Breathe.
I give Carousel a nudge with my leg to get him to go into the ring, we trot in and wait for the buzzer to tell me it’s okay to go to my first jump. The announcer calls “In the ring now we have Hadley Madden and Carousel’s Conquest” then the buzzer loud and sharp and it’s time to go.
I pick up the canter and head for the first jump. The first one is always the hardest. I’m holding my breath as my stomach flips around. I’m three strides out to my first jump, leg on for support and three… two… one… jump. We are in the air, I feel Carousel stretch out under me to get across the jump, his front legs come down softly first then his hind end. I feel the power underneath me and finally I breathe. We’ve got this. I put my leg on to encourage him to go faster, his step gets bigger and longer and we are covering so much ground every step, it’s like we are just floating across the ground. He is flowing and I can feel him having fun too. He is eating up the ground, each stride getting longer than the last one. We come to our second jump and he flies we gallop down to the third and soar over it. I push a bit harder to the yellow jump and I realize how well he is jumping. I slow down for the turn coming up so I can make it as tight as possible the next two jumps are a blur, it’s just so much fun to be out here with this horse, he is a once in a lifetime horse and he’s doing his job for me and with me. He wants to do his job, he wants to win just as much as I do and we are going to win that ribbon together.
We have a double clear round and when we leave the ring the announcer calls “Hadley Madden and Carousel’s Conquest are in the lead with the new time to beat.”
I can’t believe we are in the lead. He was such a good boy and he jumped his heart out. I’m so excited that was the best round I have had with Carousel all season. There is only one horse after us to complete the class. Andrea comes out of the announcers booth smiling at me.
“Great job! You both looked amazing, I told you there was no need to freak yourself out.” Andrea tells me
“Thanks!” I say, I just can’t wipe the smile off my face, even if we don’t win I couldn’t be happier with Carousel.
The horse is finishing up the jump off. The time is going to be close. There is only one jump left and the times are almost identical. I’m holding my breath just waiting to hear what happens. The horse’s back leg just hits the top rail on the last jump. The pole rocks in the cup for what feels like a year, but it drops with a thud on the ground.
We won! He won. Carousel was amazing and all the nerves I had before are gone and replaced with nothing but love and affection for this animal. He’s more than my pet, he is my teammate and I couldn’t have done it without him, he was a star. He won the ribbon.
I have looked at this “motorcycle” and what I have decided is that the classical view is exactly the same as the romantic view. When I look at it romantically, I can see that there is a piece of cardboard attached to an electric screwdriver, rendering it useless. If I look at it classically, I see that the screwdriver is being robbed of it’s true potential. Together, they do not have quality, because they do not work in unison. However, if they are separated, they can be seen in a different light. Suddenly the screwdriver becomes useful; now the end is exposed and can be used as a tool once again. The tool piece could also have just been taken off, new ones with different end shapes could be attached and detached. Now the screwdriver has quality.
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (Robert M. Pirsig)