Throwback Thursday: March 4, 1865

A war, once dreaded, was now in full swing,
As, reelected, he stood up to swear
To serve for four more years, to do each thing
He could to re-unite those in his care
Among whom he did number rebel foes,
And those in bondage yet, and those who fought,
And those who could no longer, and for those
Who had been left behind by men who'd not
Survived. "With charity for all," he said.
We'll bind the nation's wounds, we will do all
Which may achieve and cherish peace. The head
Which birthed these thoughts was soon, itself, to fall,
But on that day in Washington D.C.,
He re-enforced commitment to stay "We."

Throwback Thursday: All That Glitters

Afoot upon a brand new continent,
Don Pedro, just sixteen, but prouder than
The peacocks strolling his estate, had spent
Less than a day before he'd found his man.
That man had promised, via grunts and signs
To lead our Pedro to the secret site
Where could be found the metal forming lines
And clustered patterns on his breast plate, bright
And yellow. It took weeks to get there, through
Rank jungles, deadly insects, rivers full
Of tiny, hungry devils, but 'twas true:
His treasure was abundant. Then the wool
Came off his eyes when shipmates saw his haul:
His men had died for pyrite, one and all.

Throwback Thursday: The Fable of Finger Wing, Part I

Last Sunday, B.C., oh so long ago,
So long ago the cockroach looméd large
As bunnies do, and flew, the world below
Was ruled from high above, and those in charge
Did make the skies their kingdom. Dinosaurs
Did stomp the clumsy earth, but e’en they feared
The pterodactyl clans, whose screeching roars
Could deafen prey long ere that prey was speared.
Their nests were high and hidden. Sometimes they
Forgot where all they'd left their eggs to hatch.
Such was the case on that most special day
When Finger Wing broke shell. She had no match
Among her nest mates, flung them to the ground
To watch them splat, then took a look around.

Throwback Thursday: Going Hungry for a Cause

The seventh day of siege dawned bright and cold
And windless. In the highest tower, where
The women, and the young, and very old
Were gathered for protection and for care,
Within the lady's bedroom, breakfast cooked
Before her spacious fireplace. The fear
Was just more to be coped with. Tally looked
A moment to the outside, heard a cheer
That wasn't the defenders, screamed and ran
To tell the head cook. As the hooks and ropes
Caught on the castle's walks, the fight began
In earnest. And the lovely stew that spat
And bubbled on the hearth? A weapon, that!

Throwback Thursday: What's at Stake

The baby had survived, and she had saved
The mother, too, with fungus from some bread.
The grateful father, totally enslaved
By common sense, joined those who wished her dead.
Thus finished Mistress Goodweather's last year
Among us. She'd no husband  living to
Speak up for her, and so prevailing fear
(And disregard for those -- all women -- who
Did argue for her preservation) meant
A tow'ring bonfire was erected there
In village center. When the dame had spent
Her time in prison, screaming in the care
Of parsons, she was brought forth for to burn,
But rescued by the goodwives. Some folks learn!

Throwback Thursday: The Most Famous Sonnetations

When William fell in love, and love again,

He found his feelings weren't requited, quite.

The lady dark, he'd never see again;

The lovely boy avoided him for spite.

But in imagination, both of them,

Enraptured by his ev'ry honeyed word

Responded warmly to his charméd pen,

In such a way as all of us have heard

Who've drunk with him. Indeed, we've heard enough.

We want to tell him, man, just stick to plays.

Your wife and son have really got it rough

Just as things are. Your wand'ring eye and ways

Are getting old. Nobody wants to read

Your whiny poems, which fulfil no need!

Throwback Thursday: Husbandry

Mab Mittel strode beside a tiny plot
Of grain of unknown origin. The seed
Had blown into her hut. She'd found a spot
To plant it on the sly, where none would need
The space. She watched it grow, her careful eye
And most discerning nose, both found it sweet.
The kernel it produced was flavorful
And even lucious. Soon she'd named it "wheat"
And pounded out her little crop, to pull
Its flavors from its chaff and straw to make
A powder. which she wetted down and left
To bake beneath the sun. When she did take
A bite of what she'd made, ideas soon came
To make it better. What should be its name?

Throwback Thursday: The Opportunist

"The land is conquered! Run now for your lives!
The Norman comes, in fear and fire and blood!
Hide now your children, lock up your fair wives!
Marauders are approaching in a flood!"
So came the shouts as refugees poured through
The village. Dacey, though, stayed how and where
She was. "Where now, indeed, would I run to?"
She asked of no one. Tired and grey of hair
And full of pains, she sat upon her stool
Outside a newly-empty hut, to wait.
When came the Norman horde, she kept her cool,
As there were only five. "Ah! We're too late!
The pretty ones are gone. There's just this crone."
They left her to enrich herself, alone.

Throwback Thursday: Practice Makes...

The scrimshaw piece -- it should have been a sign --
That his guard cherished, showed to ev'ryone,
Was beautiful, of curious design,
And obviously a trophy. Point a gun
At any man, his treasure becomes yours.
The day his captor noticed that his face
Resembled the most prominent of scores
Carved in the ivory, Tad Dixon's case
Was terminal. The guard so longed to learn
The art he so admired, he took his knife
And started on Tad's flesh. Each carving turn
Improved the man's technique, but Dixon's life
Was short. When Allies came to liberate
The camp, he bled his last. They were too late.

Throwback Thursday: A Comics Legend is Born

Just Rob knew that at last he had a hit
When he invented -- hero of the age! --
The Crüemeister. "Oh man, this is the spit!"

He crowed his triumph as he penned each page,

Then he ran o'er to artist, Eric May

The script for Issue One. "It's cool," quoth he,

"But Just, the likeness rights we'll have to pay --"

"My publisher's ex-wife happens to be

That Nikki guy's stepmom. You got any beers?

Get drawing!" "How's his power work again?"

"He flips the bird and Mötley Crüe appears

And 'Doctor Feelgood' starts. "Ok, so then

It's just distraction?" "Yes. And thus the name!"

And that's how Rob and May achieved their fame.

Throwback Thursday: He Could Have Been a Contender

Miss Brown had bought a brand new, tiny car,
As small as she (and she was four foot nine
In heels), her Metropolitan, the star
Of her own firmament. When Andrew Dyne,
A student in the Home Ec class she taught,
And captain of the school's great football team,
Beheld it, he had notions on the spot.
He'd be a legend! How his eye did gleam
When he told his best teammates of his plan.
To push that tiny car took just two guys,
The rest just found weird spots to hide it. Man,
They hid it ev'ry time she took her eyes
Off her beloved prize. At last she bought
A doberman. Soon Dyne's career was shot.

Throwback Thursday: Sea to Sea, See?

Those little paw prints tracking up the sand
Along the vast Pacific's northern shore
That parallel much larger ones are grand
If none too permanent clues proving lore
That Milo Mudfoot and his hero, Jack
Were first to cross this continent entire.
Arriving on a privateer out back
And east somewhere, then, never did they tire,
They journeyed with a wagon train along
The trail to Oregon. Their masters had
Succumbed to dysentery, but this strong,
Resilient pair of pups, through good and bad,
Had made it. Now they bark at crashing waves
And have all any doggies e'er could crave!

Throwback Thursday: Mutually Unappetizing

The crew rowed  Sir Tom Bewick to the shore
That he was sure he had discovered first.
But waiting there for him was something more
Than just a tiny greeting party. Worse:
They spoke no English, and Sir Tom, of course
Had no idea what gibberish they shared
Their thoughts of him with. Each group was a source
Of fascination to the other. Scared,
The natives eyed him. Sir Tom eyed them back.
Had either group the other understood,
They'd laugh, for each were fearing an attack
By cannibals! It was too bloody good.
Sir Tom dined on headhunter tales for years;
The natives still have white man-hunter fears!

Dog Week: Throwback Thursday: His Weakness, Our Strength; Or, the Case of the Baleful Ball

Jack Rottbador, the loyal guardian to
The little Queen of Scots, while she, in France
Endured attacks from ev'rywhere, came through
Most specially when somehow, by some chance
Wee Mary showed up with a pomander
Of brilliant hue and sweet and sickly scent.
She loved it so, she kept it close to her
At all times, so its perfume'd soon be spent.
No one could make her give it up. And when
Just days since she'd received it, she grew pale
And listless, she clung to it more. There'd been
A panic; she'd been poisoned! How? The wail
Fell on deaf canine ears. He saw the ball,
Then snatched, then lost it near the palace wall!

Throwback Thursday: Simonides Pro-Agon

Two hundred ninety nine, and then there's me
A-waiting in the pass to take on more
Humanity than otherwise we'd see
Within our lifetimes. As it's said in lore
About such situations, we are doomed,
But, too, some stories from much further east
Talk of the little guy, as tall death loomed,
Who took it down as eas'ly as a beast
For slaughter. So, obedient to your laws
We stand. This Xerxes, he's still just a man
And men are mortal. Plus, we have a cause:
Our lands and all for which we feel they stand.
What's that? I hear a whoosh, and feel a pain
Between my eyes. Am I thus to be slain?

Throwback Thursday: The Unsettlers

Through icy seas and storms, their longship had
Survived, and they'd sailed west in search of new
Unplundered settlements. Ashore and clad
In leather and in furs and clutching blue
And stolen steel, Gudrun and Halfdan strode
Into Vinland's interior with their kin.
And plenty game they found, but no abode
Of men. One cannot raid where there has been
No one creating wealth. "We only find
A hunting ground," said Gudrun to her man.
"If there is metal here, we'd have to mine
And smelt it on our own. And break the land
Ourselves to plow it." Halfdan nodded. They
Stayed not. All eyes then watched them sail away.

Throwback Thursday: Early Spycraft

The Tyrant knew that there had been a plot
Against his life and power, but to find
Conspirators! So far his men had not,
And this weighed very heavy on his mind.
The morning Deipnotes brought him a sheaf
Of parchment he had intercepted in
Agora, at first there'd been only rage:
The damning lines had quickly, to the grief
Of Deipnotes, just vanished from the page!
The Tyrant tossed it carelessly upon
His table and did banish his young man
(Until, at least, he needed him to don
His cupbearer disguise). Thus passed a span
Of fretful hours, until a brazier's heat
Brought back the letters of the plan, complete!

Throwback Thursday: The Impact of a Prank

Hans Liebaum raised a wolf cub, sweet and tame
And most intelligent. It almost spoke
As humans did, Hans swore (he had no shame
About tale-telling). One dark night, a joke
Occurred to him. He taught his lupine friend
Its part, o'er months, until a village fair
Nearby their woodland home came round again.
That night a full moon shone. Without a care
Hans danced a merry jig beside the fire,
Called out "what's that?" and when the people turned
Swapped in his wolf, dressed in his clothes. The shire,
Astounded by this magic, nearly burned
The square. The legend born on that wild night
Lives on in werewolf tales. Don't let them bite!

Throwback Thursday: Aeronautical Advances

What Icarus and Daedelus had done
Was not entir'ly wrong, as Donocles
Concluded. From his childhood in the sun
Of Thebes, his thoughts had tended toward these
Ideas. Where had those two gone so wrong?
The boy had flown too high; his sin of pride
Was what most took away, ne'er mind the long
And careful planning of his father. Wide
Was Donocles's smile. They all forgot
The sun could not have melted those fine wings
Were they not bound by wax. But cords and knots
Would fare much better! Soon he'd put these things
In order, and sent skyward his own boy...
Who failed to fly at all. Still not the ploy.

Throwback Thursday: A Culinary Discovery

Delicious grubs can be so hard to find
When times are lean. All living things need food
And safety. But when hunger starts to grind
The gut, however simple, even chewed
And prickly things appeal. Thus one sere day,
Long, long ago, a desp'rate mother, one
With twins to nurse, whose mate had gone away,
Found nothing good to eat beneath the sun,
So checked an unknown plant, and spied a worm
Tucked twixt its tight and spiny leaves. She pricked
Her finger grabbing at it as it squirmed,
But got it, though her fingernail was nicked.
She'd scraped a bit of leaf up with her meal,
And tasted artichoke! A double deal!