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for Wallace Hartley and the musicians of the Titanic

 

 

And as the splendid ship began to list

and as the people scrambled on the decks,

the band struck up a ragtime tune, and next

they played an autumn waltz. Yes there, amidst

the screaming and the shouts, the band persisted,

giving to the night what they gave best—

the peace that comes from melody. They blessed

the crowd with song till waves consumed the ship.

 

How is it that they all agreed to stay?

Some artist’s creed? Some sense this was their gift?

Survivors say they heard the soaring staves

of hymns escort them as they rowed away—

still heard them as the aft began to lift.

And sink. Then nothing but Atlantic waves.

 

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Last week, the last lunch menu of the Titanic sold for a whole heap of money at auction, inspiring this poem published today on New Verse News. You never know what might have some value …

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Last Lunch

For the last lunch on the Titanic,

the kitchen served corned beef and dumplings.

We know because one of the men

who was saved in a lifeboat

kept his menu with him,

and over a hundred years later

someone bought the old scrap of paper

for eighty-eight thousand bucks.

My friends, just in case I die tonight,

and just in case it’s a dramatic,

exciting death, I want you to know

that for lunch I had Lay’s potato chips

and a Caribbean Spice smoothie

with protein powder. I didn’t

save the menu, I know, what a bummer.

But it’s written in chalk on the wall

at Heidi’s Brooklyn Deli, and if you take

a picture, well, somewhere down the centuries

it might just make a fortune for your kids.

Unlike that lucky survivor, I don’t happen to have

a Turkish bath ticket I can send you.

Too bad. I would have loved one today.

But perhaps at auction

you can make a few extra bucks

if you throw in the knowledge

that the sunflowers were in full bloom,

and the cottonwood trees were golden,

though it was already October 3.

The whole sale would be more profitable

if only I were more famous. Sorry.

Oh yes. Two pickles. I nearly forgot to mention.

They throw them in free with the kids’ sandwiches,

but those pickles might be worth a lot to you.

I hope not many others will die in this disaster,

but know that I am aware as I write this

that there is a sweet danger brewing,

and there are no life boats.

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