THE GLORIOUS MACON - MY ZEPPELIN
My ancient memory-wrapped zeppelin,
My silver-wild Macon
Hovering over my green prune orchard,
Only then I dream of summer’s wonder-tasting prunes
Spread on trays, so wrinkled and black,
Such splattered square wooden-splintered trays,
Spread over them black prunes simmering in the sun.
Now like a blue-bright cloud the quivering airship
Then, alas, the sparrow-singing orchard stills--
Like me, forlorn, for my glorious Macon to appear
With its pulsing motors once more haunting me
Into hazy childhood dreams.
My Macon had crashed into the sad-clouded Pacific sea.
Thus so alone my tears cried with me
For my lost great wondership up there.
So long ago amidst Santa Clara Valley prune blossoms
I stood in my orchard
-- Ted Drenton
THE MYSTERIOUS AIRSHIP
Folks are lately much afeared
Of a Something that appeared
In the skies at dead of night,
With its eyes so baleful bright.
Is it what our German cousiins
Have been turning out by dozens?
Is it our or is it their ship,
This noctivolanting airship?
Does this victor of the air
Speak us foul, or speak us fair?
Is she Angel, is she Ogress?
Is it Peace as well as Progress?
Who can tell it!
We have come by rapid stages
To the “heirship of the ages” –
How d’ye spell it?
Probably best if C. MacT.’s real name remains undiscovered.
Surpassing the delight of taking flight
Of seeing earth receding as you lift
Surpassing the experience of height
Of really feeling like a drifting cloud,
There is the heavenly enlightened gift
With which the mind of mankind is endowed
That lifts at first his ideas inwardly
And lets him fashion marvels like the blimp
That fly in spirit space, and then, in gravity
Thar barr an taitnimh bheith ag éirí suas
Ag feiceáil talaimh thíos ag gabháil siar
Thar barr na heachtra bheith in airde thuas
Ag aireachtáil dáiríre amhail néal.
Tá bua léirithe ó neamh go fíor
A dearlaictear intleacht fear sa saol
A ardaíonn idé ar dtús istigh
Ag ligean ceapadh dó ’leithéid de bhlimp
I spás an anama roimh imtharraingt amuigh.
Translation to Irish: 4 December, 2003. Inside, out of the cold
Arthur The Shrimp Did Pilot A Blimp
Arthur the shrimp,
Did pilot a blimp
Up in the sky.
Was where he did fly.
With goggles and map.
He was a legendary chap.
Now 40 years on, our Arthur's retired.
He's finely attired.
But his lifes uninspired!
So in search of adventure.
It's back to the blimp.
Lets all be proud, of this glorious shrimp.
OLD AIRSHIP ENGINEERS SAYING
You need only two tools, a hammer and duct tape.
If it doesn't move and it should, use the hammer.
If it moves and shouldn't, use the tape.
The Salt Lake City Cigar Craft
Silver cigar floats over the city,
Camerman gloats, it's such a pity.
Ominous craft from space, nowhere to hide,
A quarter mile long and twenty meters wide.
Unknown device, moves ever so slowly.
We're all alone grounded and lowly.
Get out your video camera. point it up real high,
You'll get a much better picture than using just your eye.
Its other wordly design can mean one thing,
Surely it's a sign, from an Alien being.
Cover all the angles, zoom in very tight,
We'll sell it to the media, it'll be all right.
The batteries run low and the blimp will crash,
Then we'll really be screwed and out of the cash.
Our attempt at a hoax didn't turn out so very well,
Because for money we'd spend an eternity in hell.
Poem by Ringo.
Silver in the sky,
But in her pictures grey,
People young do fly her,
But images grow old,
A ship of dreams she was,
A nightmare she became,
Now she has all gone,
And silent in their grave,
101, a ship that caught your soul,
She flew so many years ago,
And in memories nearly forgotten,
Now all we have is our thoughts,
Thinking of those souls,
Thinking how they flew their ship,
And how in the end was lost.
So much was lost,
So many were hurt,
They fought so hard to get their goal,
A ship some said weren't ready,
But they believed they'd get there,
Flying low, Flying slow,
Local people worried,
She doesn't look right,
She's stretched too much,
A bad omen was what they dreaded,
Then in the morning at just after two,
The nightmare started happening,
As she got buffeted and bashed her nose did start descending,
Her nose cover torn,
Her gas was gone,
Her lift was failing fast,
The man at the wheel was fighting hard,
Keeping her on an even keel,
She hit the ground,
Not that hard,
Quite softly washer landing,
But this was going to be a tragedy,
And fire was not long set in,
In a matter of minuets,
Her cover was gone,
And fire did envelope,
And as men lay confused in their bed's,
The fire did consume them,
But the few that were lucky battled like hell,
They fought with all their might,
Battling flame for freedom,
And emerging in the darkness of night,
Now so many years have passed,
But we all hold a thought,
For those brave men who passed,
So many years ago,
A little sleepy village,
A picturesque delight,
It could be on a chocolate box,
In summer its a delight,
And if you glance over the fields,
You might be quite amazed,
The sheds can be clearly viewed,
A homage to airship flight.
R101 FACEBOOK PAGE BY TREVOR MONK:
Come, take a trip in my air ship,