General Poetry posted November 8, 2021


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An ode to a charming place

Palmer Station, Antarctica

by Frank Ball

Palmer, an ode to a station in Antarctica



There's a place to face a goal you may chase; it's the base for a notable outing.

This profile may muster a claim for the luster in a race for remarkable routing.

Getting there takes some effort and care, with a focus on venture and scouting.

An icebreaker voyage with minimal buoyage, that's a trip to skip if there's doubting.



Schoolwork is offered for Jones, Smith, and Crawford, easing Moms' need for Paxil.

To show how it feels, the little boy squeals when a paper globe spins on an axle.

Then globes are inspected and minds are infected by an inning of spinning galore.

Isaac Newton has heeded an axle's not needed, adding some more to his score.



Newton was right in Amundsen's sight; there was nothing but flat ice to spin on.

Zero to show, no lump in the snow, not even a hill to host win on.

Emptiness reigned; the ice wasn't stained; there was no welcome sign flashing neon.

In urgent stare, sled dogs looked everywhere for something upright to pee on.



A continent's rise, all China in size, provided explorers a goal.

Regardless of guise, in most people's eyes, Antarctica's whole soul is the pole.

Forswearing that notion, our Southern Ocean encompasses more than a center.

If you care to explore and open the door, there are plenty of places to enter.



Boundaries abound on a shore all around where countries have put in a claim.

Nations exchange permission for range, each one refraining from blame.

Drilling some rocks to install some docks, made the shoreline a place for grand science.

From the depth of the ocean to the clouds in motion, there's nature's perplexing defiance.



In one of these spots, our nation with lots of labor in manpower extended.

Palmer's the name of the station that came from the effort the Seabees expended.

Plans were drawn for the structure's brawn, where expert suggestions were heeded.

They constructed a place that's truly an ace, with all of the things that are needed.



The dishes aren't soiled and the coffee's not boiled so remaining there is a pleasure.

Your bed is not laid by aid from a maid and your time is infrequently leisure.

There's still need to sweep on a field day to keep, where mopping's just one of six things.

Science is key, but there still needs to be a work crew to mix food and fix things.



As seen from the boats, wildlife flies, dives, or floats in every nook where you look.

Islands embellish the outlook with relish in the brilliant photos you took.

Pleasure boating can share the scenery there, with persistent wind permitting.

Icebergs parade in inlet and glade; thunder rumbles when glaciers are splitting.



At the iceberg's rim, penguins swim taking care to avoid seals and whales.

It's brutal to witness a flaw in their fitness when all that remains are their nails.

Petrels, abundant, are never redundant; their soaring charm never fails.

Blue-eyed shags appeal when they dive for a meal, a hazard for more than fishtails.



Closing this rhyme in adequate time is an aim you may claim is a long thing.

I've done my best to manage the test, that my memory is not a wrong thing.

You may surmise by surprise in my eyes my regard for Palmer is something.

A special place, a special case, my regards at large not a dumb thing.

 



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