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Caution: this poem contains language, by Tim Train

on May 05, 2020

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- Tim Train (video by Hamish Danks Brown).

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The Ballad of Sir Superfluous, by Tim Train

He ran into town in an oncoming rush, His sword like a weapon in hand! And he had won great fame for his glorious fame, Renowned throughout all of the land! But far in the distance, a long way away, Loomed a thing with a looming great loom - And how could her know what he was not to know, That his fate would soon meet with its doom? High over the town in the sky up above, Like a monstrous mythical beast, Flew a dragonish dragon of dragonly kind - Or Jabberwock at the least. He waved to the beast with a gesture of hands, And called with a shout like a cry, And jeered jeering jeers of an insulting type - That the wyrm must now fatally die! So boldly courageous, our knight, almost brave, Full of dander and audacious pluck! How sorry we'll be to see your sad end, The close of your fortunate luck! Right then, on the double, that duo of two Fought a horrible terrible fight! All the crashes went smash and the dashes went bash In that battle of power...

A short poem, by Tim Train

The name titin is derived from the Greek Titan (a giant deity, anything of great size).[5] As the largest known protein, titin also has the longest IUPAC name of a protein. The full chemical name of the human canonical form of titin, which starts methionyl... and ends ...isoleucine, contains 189,819 letters and is sometimes stated to be the longest word in the English language, or of any language.[67]… This word has 189,819 characters in its name and takes more than an hour to pronounce. – Wikipedia Well, every villanelle is short. – Andrew Brion CONTENTS: FIT THE FIRST FIT THE SECOND FIT THE THIRD FIT THE FOURTH FIT THE FIFTH FIT THE SIXTH FIT THE FIRST We sit down in this room of mine, Just you and me, at one past nine, And methionylthreonylthreonylglutaminylalanylprolylthreonylphenylalanylthreonylglutaminylprolylleucylglutaminylserylvalylvalylvalylleucylglutamylglycylserylthreonylalanylthreo...

Brumbies run, by Kerry Scuffins

(for “Brumby’s Run” Shelter, Beaufort, Victoria.) The brumbies run from the roaring, the guns. Death from the sky! The brumbies run. The beauties, the old ones, the mares and their foals, The stallion, desperately guiding the fold. But they fall, and they die – But not all. Some fly, Mortally wounded, beyond the scopes -and meet more rifles; yards and ropes. A good horse costs a lot to buy But we shoot ‘em down from the innocent sky. Helicopters and the slaughterhouse For the riding pony and the working horse. In Brumbies, the Australian Whaler lives on. Thoroughbred, Arab and Percheron. And ‘twas a brumby stock-horse bought the herd home In “The Man from Snowy River” poem. - Kerry Scuffins Dedicated to “Digger” and Colleen O’Brien, the woman who saved him. Reprinted from The Million Star Hotel with permission of the author.

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Caution: this poem contains language, by Tim Train

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