This Poem was Submitted By: Robert L Tremblay On Date: 2004-08-08 03:26:32 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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The Nightingale's Song

Without a sigh of harm, the nightingale Removed the soiled dressing from the                  wound  And cleansed the area of supine male  Before returning to the orchard pruned. Throughout the night, the windswept evening                  howled – The lights were flickering in fierce distress – But this lone nightingale was never cowed  And carried forward as if to impress. With family problems churning beneath,     Nocturnal songbird fluttered through the                 halls Imparting cheer, not grief, through aching                 teeth                                                                                  For nightingales must answer higher calls. Determined strongly, the nightingale kept  Appointed rounds, detached from ego needs  And did not stop to contemplate when wept  The last, for duty called with basic needs. There were ones without limbs and others, eyes,  Some without conscious and some without feel And orphaned child whose spirit often dies  When mindful of his solitary deal. By saintly glow, the nightingale did light  The darkened passageways between the                   rooms  To offer warmth to those in dire plight And medication for those that fate dooms. When heaven was made, nightingales were born  To fly through time until present was found  To guide the way for broken souls forlorn  Whose pain was deeper than the deepest sound. Weep not for nightingale's song for it's sung  In revelation to the mind of men  But mindful should you be to the bell rung  When nightingales depart from where they've                    been.

Copyright © August 2004 Robert L Tremblay

Additional Notes:
One of my old new ones, if you get my drift. Bobby T.


This Poem was Critiqued By: DeniMari Z. On Date: 2004-09-03 20:57:33
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.60000
Dear Bobby, Hi, It's good to see another post of yours- I've commented before and I comment again on how beautiful I think you write. I imagine this piece isn't just about the nightingale because I see human traits within your lines - that seem to relate to circumstances such as what follows: With family problems churning beneath, Nocturnal songbird fluttered through the halls Imparting cheer, not grief, through aching teeth For nightingales must answer higher calls. Haven't we been conditioned to smile through our difficulties - hide what we are truly feeling from others as to not depress or bring down those around us? There isn't a change to made here, just a deep beautiful poem to read. Sincerely, DeniMari


This Poem was Critiqued By: James Edward Schanne On Date: 2004-08-27 12:14:17
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.17857
And orphaned child whose spirit often dies When mindful of his solitary deal Thats a line I really like.Is:But mindful should you be to the bell rung is that suppose to be a play on having your bell rung, like being knocked out or something like that. Thanks for letting me read your poem.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Wayne R. Leach On Date: 2004-08-20 22:29:27
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.87500
Robert, this is a fascinating tale of the nightingale [probably Florence of the Crimean War] aiding and consoling the lost, the injured, the truly pitiful remnants [no, not remnants, but heroes] of war. I will offer absolutely nothing for change. It is a most worthy effort, and should do well this month. It has a very nice meter and rhyme scheme. The imagery is well suited to the story you have brought forth. Nice job, fellow poet. wrl
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2004-08-16 14:49:36
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Bobby T., I miss you, man! Yeah, that's right: I miss you. Doesn't mean i won't have critical things to say about you now and then - not even my wife is immune to that. But your "stance," your confronting of the world with your voice, is something i think we should always see in the world around us. So . . . I miss you, man. This has all of the Bobby T. trademark style, from the central metaphor of the lone nightingale, to all of his individual feathers. Sing on, Bobby T., sing on. Mark
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lynda G Smith On Date: 2004-08-10 21:04:28
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Bobby, I trained at st. michaels in Toronto and pulled my quota of night duty. As I wafted through this poem, your metaphore brought new reflections to old memories. Such a direct metaphore with such fresh insight and observation, it had me sighing without harm. An ode to Florence and all who followed the path. Your portrayal of a night, storm-ridden by stress and weather, brought back a remembered perspective. I was touched by a vision of your nocturnal songbird, reminded each time of the place this name and bird have in my frame of reference, displacing ego with what needed to be done. How many times have I heard the soft humming of colleagues as they created their own relief and in a miraculous way were able to take the thoughts of the bed-ridden off of themselves onto some higher plain. Your songbird you see, can be both metaphorical and reality, and in both lies a small miracle. The tradition of your rhymes gives a quiet dignity to this noble work, and I mean the double entendre. How I wish I had said... 'who's pain was deeper than the deepest sound.' I have witnessed and shared this pain, beyond our ability to express, and you have put it eloquently into words that touched me deeply. Thank you for putting humanity into duty, and the reflection of destiny into our humanity. Thank you for this, Lynda
This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2004-08-08 12:22:02
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Hi Bob, I well recall this one, enjoyed it then and still appreciate its form and message. Florence Nightingale left a huge legacy. Every battlefield, every war-torn nation, every rehab ward, bears her imprint and hears her music. Offering "warmth" and "medication" are but two of the nurses' duties, albeit crucial ones. There's also the knowledge that is demanded, so a particular condition can be appropriately treated. There's the internal strength required - setting aside the "ego needs" you mention - that endures death and horror beyond human imagining. I'm not sure that any beginning nursing student can be fully prepared for the realities of pain, infection and dismemberment. However, those who are meant to follow the calling will persist and grow strong enough to meet the challenges. Your IP continues throughout, with the occasional reversed, triple or dropped foot to make it more interesting [e.g. L
, L17]. Alternating rhyme is also consistent. My only stumble came in the concluding stanza; i think these are just typos: Weep not for nightingale's song[,] for it's [its] sung In [Is?] revelation to the mind of men I'm glad to have another chance to read older pieces, since many of us tend to pull them and file them away, but a new influx of readers will find them "new" again. This is a great choice for such a resurrection. My Best, Brenda
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