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About This Poem
THE FLYING DUTCHMAN
Off the cape of good hope,
On dead-man’s rocky reef,
A legend from old was born.
Behold The Flying Dutchman,
Phantom’s driven ghost ship.
Seeking infinities isle beyond,
Mortal fleshes reach.
The captains wheel sets a
Study coarse full ahead.
Treachery’s boney skeleton walkers,
Follow his orders without question.
It is the devils own hand picked,
A madman’s crew,
Hell bound disciples riding,
Currents restless waves towards,
Destiny's unknown passages.
The grim reapers soul seekers,
Beware all at sea if you witness,
The Dutchman’s murky birthing.
From depths fathoms below,
Tarred torn canvas sails unfurl,
Upon broken masts covered,
By seaweeds greenish slime.
Under heavy pressures crushing
Weight,
A chilling graveyard of wreckage's,
Carnage exists,
An isolation forgotten realm.
A tidal avalanche, aquatic blues,
Perfect storm envelopes,
Everything in it's destructive path.
Dragging anchors chains behind,
Death's black vessel brakes,
The surfaces tension.
Cutting through the rough waves
At eases pace.
Readily welcoming those lost aboard,
Then she'll dive towards deep waters,
Farthest edge.
Behold The Flying Dutchman’s,
Legend lives forever on.
In nightmares screaming twilight hour,
Another soul becomes enchained.
And a skeleton walker joins,
The devils own.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
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