L Milton Hankins Poet Free verse

Imagination

Standing at the edge of the bay,
I imagine a watery grave where lie
Remains of an old Spanish galleon
Laden with silver coins encrusted
Barnacles and unsalvaged treasure,
Where once the buccaneers partied
After a successful foray in a placid sea
In those moments I dance a sarabande
As my vivid imagination runs amok.

written January 5, 2022

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Caren Krutsinger January 13, 2022 at 8:24 AM The pirate in you has intrigued and entranced me with this marvelous missive! L Milton Hankins January 13, 2022 at 8:46 AM Thanks, Caren. My imagination was running amok. Sometimes that happens to me...hey, you know that feeling!

Terry Flood January 12, 2022 at 4:24 PM Blimey, I thought you’d turned into Otis Redding. No, seriously, a delightful and indulgent moment of reverie… surely the least any artistic mind should allow itself. Terry L Milton Hankins January 12, 2022 at 4:54 PM Hey, Terry, come to think of it, I should have sat "on the dock of the bay!" Hmmmm...hey, you can write that one! Thanks so much for your thoughts on my poem.

John Lawless January 12, 2022 at 11:51 AM sail on Milton......raise the banner and run before the gale... L Milton Hankins January 12, 2022 at 11:57 AM (chuckling) That's how I felt standing there at the edge of the bay, John, so I reckon my poem made sense. Argggh!