tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8145150938922509338.post4864232198021918657..comments2023-08-03T08:08:27.776-07:00Comments on Karen's Poetry Spot: The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald by Gordon LightfootKaren Ahlstromhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08494601453714239376noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8145150938922509338.post-84656972081903862502007-08-31T08:31:00.001-07:002007-08-31T08:31:00.001-07:00I wrote a poem to that meter a long time ago. I o...I wrote a poem to that meter a long time ago. I only remember the first two paragraphs:<BR/> <BR/>An old man sat down in a midwestern town<BR/>in a park where the children were playing.<BR/>They gathered around and they sat on the ground<BR/>Close by, to hear what he was saying.<BR/> <BR/>"2142 was the year we broke through<BR/>the ranks of the enemy warriors,<BR/>but some of them fled," the old soldier said.<BR/>"Catching them took two or three more years."<BR/> <BR/>As I recall it went on to copy some themes from the end of Ender's Game.<BR/><BR/>DougAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8145150938922509338.post-62127207401454415332007-08-31T08:31:00.000-07:002007-08-31T08:31:00.000-07:00I love that movie and the poem is great. I even re...I love that movie and the poem is great. I even read part of Lost Moon by Jim Lovell but never finished. Thanks for the poem!<BR/> <BR/>SamAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8145150938922509338.post-53357076404289820942007-08-30T09:14:00.000-07:002007-08-30T09:14:00.000-07:00Thanks, Peter!-SteveThanks, Peter!<BR/><BR/>-SteveAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8145150938922509338.post-78415569876709433552007-08-30T09:13:00.000-07:002007-08-30T09:13:00.000-07:00Helena was able to find the lyrics for me.-PeterTh...Helena was able to find the lyrics for me.<BR/><BR/>-Peter<BR/><BR/>The Ballad of Apollo XIII (words: William Warren,<BR/>music: "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" by Gordon Lightfoot)<BR/><BR/>There's legends galore in the pulp SF lore<BR/>'Bout shipwrecks of spacers a-spacin',<BR/>When meteor holes come 'tween men and their goals<BR/>By demolishing ships that they're racin'.<BR/><BR/>Painting pictures with words like none you've ever heard,<BR/>SF writers made frightening predictions.<BR/>But the terrors they tell cannot equal the hell<BR/>Faced by three men in fact, and not fiction.<BR/><BR/>To April 11, 1970, now,<BR/>We must let our narrative carry us.<BR/>Three men in a C-S-M named Odyssey;<BR/>Beneath them, the LM named Aquarius.<BR/><BR/>With a furious roar, Saturn leapt for the sky<BR/>With Jack Swiggart, Fred Haise, and Jim Lovell,<BR/>Toward a planned rendezvous that would never come true<BR/>With the gray lunar gravel and rubble.<BR/><BR/>Still, they set up housekeeping in orbit 'round Earth,<BR/>Then translunar insertion was kindled,<BR/>But the public just yawned, for their landing was third,<BR/>And behind them old Terra slow dwindled.<BR/><BR/>Apollo XIII travelled on down the track<BR/>Laid down by the three laws of Newton.<BR/>At fifty-six hours into lunar bound coast,<BR/>Lovell said, "Houston, we have a problem."<BR/><BR/>Now they may have been struck by a meteorite.<BR/>Maybe something had just overloaded.<BR/>But their panels went red with their malfunction lights<BR/>And in Odyssey something exploded.<BR/><BR/>That blast blocked or ruptured their fuel cell lines;<BR/>Their electrical energy faltered.<BR/>With no hope at all of a rescue in time<BR/>Thirteen's mission profile had altered.<BR/><BR/>To physics and God they commended their lives,<BR/>For no power on earth could have saved 'em.<BR/>Although NASA let the men talk with their wives,<BR/>Of goodbyes there was never a mention.<BR/><BR/>Three men in a C-S-M bound for the Moon<BR/>Reached two hundred and six thousand miles.<BR/>Did they have enough air to get all the way there?<BR/>Could they trust what they read on their dials?<BR/><BR/>And when they reached Luna, could they change course for home?<BR/>Would she trap them, or loose them at random?<BR/>Untested advice and contingency plans<BR/>Were the only things NASA could hand 'em.<BR/><BR/>When Apollo XIII crossed the limb of the Moon<BR/>And death came from the receivers<BR/>We knew the next signal would speak of their doom<BR/>Or answer the faith of believers.<BR/><BR/>"Apollo Thirteen, this is Houston. Do you read?"<BR/>Dear God, let them answer us quickly.<BR/>The world held its breath, and in Mission Control<BR/>Every screen lit a face pale and sickly.<BR/><BR/>"Apollo Thirteen, this is Houston. Do you read?"<BR/>That empty sound stretched on for years.<BR/>"Houston... This is Thirteen... We're coming home!" said a voice,<BR/>And the world found relief in its tears.<BR/><BR/>At T plus one hundred and thirty-eight hours<BR/>They jettisoned Odyssey's wreckage.<BR/>That module was shattered and blasted apart--<BR/>A symbol of death in the space age.<BR/><BR/>Aquarius served as their lifeboat to shore,<BR/>'Til they knew they would no longer need her.<BR/>At T plus one hundred and forty-one hours,<BR/>With a deep prayer of "Thank you!" they freed her.<BR/><BR/>Ed, Roger, and Gus must have smiled on those days,<BR/>Knowing theirs was the path not to follow.<BR/>But their souls were with Swiggart and Lovell and Haise<BR/>Riding home on the thirteenth Apollo.<BR/><BR/>At T plus one hundred forty-three, fifty-four<BR/>Apollo XIII hit the waters.<BR/>Three men returned home, shaken up, but alive,<BR/>To their wives and their sons and their daughters!<BR/><BR/>There's legends galore in the pulp SF lore,<BR/>But all of them now do cause men to reflect<BR/>On three days when the world's hearts went racing.<BR/><BR/>Painting pictures with words all too few people heard,<BR/>SF writers could make their predictions,<BR/>But always recall that, in spite of them all,<BR/>The truth was much greater than fiction.<BR/><BR/>Yes, always recall that, in spite of them all,<BR/>The truth must be greater than fiction.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com