Tag Archives: pirate

A Hiatus Duly Taken

Afternoon, friends and readers. Apologies for the brief hiatus I had to take the last few days. I’ve been sick the past week or so and I didn’t have it in me to post every day. My poem today comes from a place of wanderlust. I cannot help but feel as if my time is being wasted not having adventures. Trying to ask myself what I want and how to get there has become a daily task. Please enjoy the poem.

La Isla

As the days and weeks and years

pass between my ears,

I find myself awash in wishing

for a place to go missing.

I’ll fly a plane over the jungle,

go insane when i bungle,

castaway on some deserted isle,

missing my bathroom tile.

I’ll sail a ship to distant shores

and find that place away from bores.

A man of adventure

whose service could never be indentured.

I’d live for me and all my vices,

a selfish world and all that entices.

Apart from the rest

even if I’m not the best.

I’d be me and mine,

finally over the line,

past the point of crying

and surely now,

no longer dying.

I’d be put through my pace

with a smile on my face

and I might now know the taste

of that one displaced…

Ein Herz aus Stahl

If only my heart were made of iron. If only my mind were made of steel. If only I could be the man in the moon, hiding away a million miles away, far from all the things that have been transgressed upon me. Enjoy the poem, friends.

The Book

A book of truths

and of lies,

bound in skin,

threaded by sinews.

Its ink is bloody

but pages paper.

May your fear never taper

and may your vision be muddy,

for your falsehoods here are written.

I only wish I could be smitten.

How the pages tell the story of my heart,

its every pump and every artery

in its every part.

Reading, you can almost hear the beating.

Oops… A paper cut.

Relaxing, Are You?

Afternoon, friends and all others. I hope you’ll all enjoy the poem today. Reading it should be like writing it, you’ll smell the sea and feel the sand, the cool shade of the tree you’re sitting under, and just, finally, be able to breathe. Without further ado…

Under a Tree

On a cloud above the rest,

not the ground we so detest,

peering down at all the ants

as gulls pirouette and dance.

Fearing there upon the shore

there might be some kind of door

to that place I’d like to go.

Much anticipation does it sew.

By the sea

there is a tree

under which I’ll sit

for just a bit,

think a while

and maybe I’ll smile.

Inspired By The Stars

Afternoon, friends! The stars as my muse, I have written for you a monologue, one you may find interesting. It is less of a poem but in the same format. I’d like to think it’s a part of the lore I have built up in secret, awaiting some slow release that may finally culminate in an understanding of one final work. We shall see. Please enjoy.

A Monologue

Futility at its best.

You’ve come to restore the Empire.

Your putrid little thing.

It withers and dies as we speak.

How could you ever hope to keep it alive?

It being so rife with decay and abuse.

I watched as my world was destroyed.

Burned to a crisp.

The surface turned into a most luminant molten glass

along with my family.

I will tear you apart,

piece by piece,

and show you a most vehement, vociferous suffering.

In reflection of my own.

I have hunted you for many years.

I am glad to have found you now,

on the precipice of higher achievement.

His Majesty’s last admiral.

So shall there be none more.

I come for the emperor now.

Storied Stormy Nights

Hello again, all! Back from my vacation, I have a little poem for you all that I enjoyed writing very much. Imagine yourself on the deck of a ship, you and your shipmates, hardened sailors one and all. The sails start to flap and wood starts to creak as dark clouds draw overhead. Rain pours over you, washing away the the salt and sweat so forcefully from your brow as lightning can be spotted in the distance. The captain screams his orders over the roar of the wind and the seas, attempting to regain control of the rigging. Amidst the cacophony you start to hear a beautiful song. Drawn to it, you and your brethren sail towards the rocks. A song that beautiful… Surely there aren’t any rocks?

Ballad of Sirens

O’ that cape of forlorn hope,

I sail around the bend.

I hope to find on other shores

a beach on which to mend

that poison heart and all its open sores.

Sailors find their sirens

there upon the rocks,

a place where ships will come to break and crash.

Beautiful their voices,

and so too are their faces,

so beautiful in fact

that sailors won’t notice

how their heartbeat quickly hastens.

Is it fear, perhaps?

Rightful to so fear the siren, yes,

but perhaps that song they sing,

that pretty one that lingers in your ears,

perhaps there is some truth to it

and closer to the siren’s heart the sailor nears.

There I lie,

crushed and broken on the rocks,

comforted by those deep blue eyes,

color of the sea I’ve grown to love,

belonging to the face

of one graceful little dove.

I know I’ll not survive the night,

I’ve not had enough adventures,

or been enough places,

but to die with you will mean eternity,

to find again Elysium one final time.

To hold you in that orchard,

my forever love.