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Rhyme Time Iii - Death

Rhyme Time III - Death (12/2017) The foe, their ship, it must be found. The engine stirs, the pistons pound. The decks vibrate, the tone, that sound. On the horizon a singular mast Alter our course n' make us fast. Prepare the decks, prepare to blast, And deny the foe an ocean so vast. Increase our speed, begin the turn. Spin the propeller, churn n' churn Our guns will fire, their ship will burn Our bow moves forward chasing her stern Now in range, our radars slew Balanced n' deadly, our guns do too. We fire our shot; our aim is true. The dead are many, the living few. Their bodies now bob in crimson foam. It is my ocean, not their home. Now turn n’ steady, more sea to comb. It is my destiny the waves to roam. The foe, their ship, it must be found.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




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Date: 12/26/2017 1:26:00 AM
great poem dear Jerry, thank you and congrats :) -luloo
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Jerry Hackett
Date: 12/29/2017 2:16:00 PM
Laura, Thanks and your hosting makes this web site work, so thanks to you.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things