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Titanic Poems


When the steerage passengers came aboard the Titanic,
they only wanted to cross the Atlantic.
These people had sold everything but their soul,
to reach America, the ultimate goal.
They were thankful for a room below,
never suspecting the danger of being that low.
And on the dreadful night, fifteenth of April,
the great ship met the iceberg's peril.
No one thought it necessary that the poor be warned,
for no one in first class should have to mourn.
The steerage people were assured nothing was wrong-
yet all the lifeboats had already gone.
Copyright, 1998


The ones left alive had their hopes and dreams drowned
for the realized their loved ones had died.
Then the reality of them being restrained,
was the reason these pitifully few cried.
Copyright, 1998


The scene was genuine and not pretend
on a cold and lonely star-studded night.
Only God knew then when it all would end,
this horrendous play on the ocean site.
Each on board performed to the finish,
as only a few survived to tell the story.
Scores of victims would needlessly perish,
to live, forever in maritime history.
All too late they remembered the premonitions,
that forewarned how many people could die.
The memories of the dead and their tribulations,
was what caused the survivors of the Titanic to sigh.
Copyright, 1998


The Titanic touches something deep inside
you feel the pain and agony she tried to hide.
She once stood so proud and true
but now she rests alone in the silent hue.
The Titanic can make you fearful and sad;
by looking at the destination she had.
Where was the room for iceberg and ship to pass that night-
Why couldn't the Titanic greet Monday's early light?
Copyright, 1997


The Atlantic could confess a ghastly tale
of the many souls who have perished there.
The Ocean would not need to use a storm or gale
as man tread upon her with a haughty air.
The Atlantic holds numerous watery graves
for which no one claims to understand
Mankind should realize we are the slaves-
to the One who measured these waters in his hand.
Copyright, 1998


The chance of collision was a million to one,
it's purpose was not to make people mourn.
It drifted along, freely on the Atlantic waves,
it wasn't there to put souls in watery graves.
The tremendous iceberg was meant to be,
for that was the natural plan of the sea.
Copyright, 1997
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