Best Buccaneers Poems


The Pirates Life

He stands upon the salty,slippery deck,
Yelling yaargh matey ,
with a halfhearted pirate drawl.
He's not to impressed with himself,
not an eyepatch or wooden leg,
not even a hooked claw.
The parrot on his shoulder,
is a wannabee,
a sparrow that fell from the Crowsnest, 
from high up above.
It has no quips ,or spikes,
or pirate quotes,
just nesting on his shoulder 
with birdly kind of love.
Aye captain the crew responds,
snapping to their chores.
Tend the wheel ,lash the mainsail,
take the soundings
 less we hit a reef.
The sea going life is not for every man,
walking the plank,storms and rickets.
Crabs in your knickers ,
really give you grief.
Aah but when the wind fills the sails to bursting,
yards of canvas strain to be free.
And the ropes play ,sea going music
of a tension melody.
A song that captures
every young buccaneers heart ,
and soul and fancy.
For the music of the wanderers life,
an endless expanse of blue,
bravehearts and fearless men find,
quite a bit too chancy.
Black Beard,Yellow Beard,
the famous Captain Blood,
were all fearless pirates of their day.
He truly knows that he can be,
a great one too.
If he could ever find that bleeping map,
and escape this landlocked bay.
Categories: buccaneers, adventure, funny, imagination, life,
Form: Rhyme

The Ocean's Song

As I looked out from the clifftops 
The ocean sang to me.
A long sad lament I heard 
A yearning for the sea.

It sang of the good ship Mayflower,
Setting sail from Plymouth sound. 
Carrying forth the pilgrims,
All were New World bound.

It sang of tall ships sailing,
And adventurers of old.
Of buccaneers, of galleons
And chests of Spanish gold.

It sang of mighty battleships,
All sailing line astern.
It sang of Trafalgar, 
Where the French and Spanish burned.

Oh to have witnessed such,
To visit times now past.
To discover unknown, distant lands.
To see the world, beneath the mast.
© Gary Smith  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: buccaneers, adventure,
Form: Rhyme

Running For My Life

A teen when Mom died

Five young brothers and sisters

Dunn supported them

Pro football player with heart

Started running for his life


Written for Brian Strand’s Ekphrasis contest.  

Former NFL running back Warrick Dunn not only managed to support his own family 
but started building homes for other families when he played with the Tampa Bay 
Buccaneers.  In “Running for my Life” he describes how he later met face-to-face 
with the man convicted of shooting and killing his mother Betty, a Baton Rouge, 
Louisiana police officer.
Categories: buccaneers, uplifting
Form: Tanka

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


The Land of Rhyme Remembered

Sail most by north, by west the least, 
until the moon sets in the east.
There, in a sea the colour of custard, 
ye'll see the Ile de Deux Sans Mustard
where locals speak like buccaneers, 
calling you ‘me dirrr' and us ‘me dirrrrs'.
Their pirate accent's quite inexorable
though, than ours, their grammar more is flexible.
They appear to verge on being mammalian,
a little bit like South Australians
(I'd never for the sake of mirth
deride the folks who come from Perth).
 
Hard left, first manatee you see, 
or right, your choice, you're free as me
(it's nix to do with politics, 
a pox on all elected plicks).
Sail till the sea turns sweetest violet
and there you'll spot the cutest islet
(had we to rhyme with ‘sweetest red'
it'd be a continent instead).
Here, when poetry is long dismembered,
lies the place of rhyme remembered.
Yes, you have come upon a land
that any poet would think is grand,
where almost everybody aint
any kind of ffffflamin' saint,
but seldom use the worst of curses, 
when they converse in freeish verses, 
or communicate in playful rhyme, 
pretty much whenever they feel like it.
© Red Omara  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: buccaneers, cute, fantasy, sea,
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Friend Ship

Friend Ship

When my inner compass falters
	     with joy suspended from a sinking buoy 
as waves rush by in sunken dreams
	     you shine the torch’s flare of sun and moon

When the tell tale light house fades
	     shrouded in the miserable fog of doubt
as currents scupper down with leaden anchour
	     you catch the comet’s touch of fallen stars

When the mocking pirates entertain
	     gloomy thoughts from skippers’ ropes
as darkness permeates the ship wrecked sailor
	     you share your life boat’s stellar luster 

When broken drift wood fragments spike
	     the surface looms with shark’s grim grin
as buccaneers maroon the lost survivor holding on
	     you salvage patiently with love and kindness

You tug me into wherever our paths will venture
You are the vessel and the oars that row

01 May 2018
Categories: buccaneers, best friend,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Skelton Bones

Down in the crypt where the caskets lie
And dust stirs up when trucks go by
Giggling sounds, not moans and groans
From the tomb of Skelton Bones

When the trucks go by no more
No light peeks beneath the door
Bony feet on an ice cold floor
Skelton Bones inspects his claw

Skelton Bones was a pirate, old
Sailed the seas in search of gold
His right hand by a dragon took
Now its claw is Skelton’s hook

Once, he’d dressed in silk and cotton
Skelton’s clothes are long since rotten
All that’s left, a belt and buckle
And his hat which makes him chuckle

He’s Skelton Bones; a pirate, nude
But not intentionally rude
He says, “Ahoy!” in pirate tones
That’s the sound of Skelton Bones

But now he has a yen to be
Once more sailing ’pon the sea
Been too long; three hundred years
Skelton calls his buccaneers 

When the door creaks open wide
Ghostly pirates lurk outside
But with no seas to sail nearby
Skelton’s ship takes to the sky

Hear that Jolly Roger flap?
Or the canon hatches clap?
Keep a firm hand on your riches
Or he’ll steal them… and your britches 

And as he rides the clouds and skies
A crew, undead, that never dies
In Skelton’s wake the east wind wails
It’s in his bones and in his sails
Categories: buccaneers, fantasy,
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member American Football

Training methods in Green Bay:		

Pack hay						
All day						
----------------
Fish in a bowl:					

Super						
Grouper						
------------------
Players in flight:					

Falcons						
Ravens
-----------			
Transfer: 

New club 
Still sub
--------------					
Just super!:

Great goal       
At bowl
-------------------
Plugs in Chicago:

To bear
The blare
----------------
All Se(a)ttled:

Seahawks
Dough talks
-----------------------------------------
What both Packers & Buccaneers do:		

Keep play						
At bay	
					
-----------------------------------------
Contest: Your Footle Poem
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Placed: 1st
Categories: buccaneers, sports,
Form: Footle

Premium Member Little Gray Pirates

From crude wooden ships 
Made of twigs and leaves
That sail in the wind 
Now moored in the trees
Down from the crows' nest 
And over the sides
They descend like raiders 
In camouflaged disguise
Furry gray pirates
Plunder and sift
Nuggets pilfered in fall
Ensconced in the drift
No X's or paces
On hand drawn maps
Buccaneers dig kickshaws
For cold winter fat
Assiduous and nervous
And always on alert
For hungry bounty hunters
Aware of their worth
Threatened they scatter
It's "All hands on deck"
Retreating from danger
Their lives are in check
Back to the safety
Of the moored ships that sway
Make ready to sail
And loot the next day


           An original poem by thr "poemdog" Daniel Turner
Categories: buccaneers, animal, fun, nature,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Henrey Morgan a Storm On the Spanish Main

Henry Morgan is my name
Being a pirate is my fame

A landlubber wasn't for me
Fortunes were made at sea

From port and starboard cannons roar
Through Spanish ships cannonballs tore

Strike your colors or face our scorn
Cutlass and pikes will make you regret being born

Merchant ships we looted, plundered and sank
Prisoners were ransomed or walked the plank

Raiding West Indies settlements was fun
Loved the pieces of eight, wenches, and rum

The Governor shivered at night in bed
His King put a price on my head

Buccaneers way were over or face harm
Keep on and you will swing from the yardarm


Poetry Contest: A storm on the Spanish Main  
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick 



Sir Henry Morgan, 
Nickname "Barbadosed"
born 1635,
died 25 August 1688 (age 53)
The Pirate Who Invaaded Panama in 1671
Buccaneer and pirate, admiral and general, country gentleman and planter, custos and judge of the court of Vice-Admiralty, governor and knight ¬ all are titles he held
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: buccaneers, history,
Form: Couplet

A Wing and a Prayer

Lord, bless us with a wing and a prayer,
Guardian angels to shine on Earth down here,
And on all the folk down under, my dears,
Let angels pray for mendicants at charities and welfare,
For druggies and their dealers, somewhere,
For these folk, not much Christmas cheer,
Lord, bless our nations with a wing and a prayer, 
Guardian angels to pray for Peace on Earth this year,
Please guide wise leaders, our buccaneers,
Towards Peace, all of us to steer, 
For all humanity, let angels pray, my dears, 
Lord, bless us with a wing and a prayer.
Categories: buccaneers, allusion, angel, blessing, christian,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Broadways Chicken Play

You all must read Sara Kendrick’s poem the “Chicken” before reading this one!!!!
Thanks Sara for giving me such a great idea!!!!!

Broadways.... "Chicken Play"

The stage was dimly lit
For the opening of this play
The crowd was clucking in anticipation
They had no idea
A love story
A drama
A play of philosophy
The writer used a feather quill
Was this not a hint?

The main actress, was a real bird she was
She strutted and strolled
The audience was captivated
Her allure was on display
Her beauty hid she was heartless hen
Out jumped the Kernel Saunders!!!!
Sword in one hand
13 secret spices in the other

Well, this birds suitors ran to her defense
To no avail at all
These buccaneers would end up in a bucket
I do not lie
It included the fries

Sadly parts where tosses to and fro
Necks and wings and breasts were sliced
It sure was not a pretty sight
A civil war this was not
The dame was slaughtered on a southern shore



Let this me a lesson to you all you gizards
While the chickens are away
It’s for sure
This silly poet will play!!
Categories: buccaneers, bird, funny, humorous,
Form: Light Verse

Premium Member Smokey and Me

Smokey was a funny cat,
Filled with fun and love;
Adventurous as all cats are,
And Master of the Hunt.

He stalked the house in search of that,
Which posed some kind of threat.
A bug, a mouse, a ball of yarn,
No pest escaped the net,

That he had formed around our home.
He took responsibility,
To protect us fro it all,
Because we were his family.

From babyhood he was my kin.
He always slept with me.
We played for hours in the yard,
Beneath the old Oak tree.

We climbed my swing set, climbed the tree,
Played in my sand box too.
Imagine my surprise to find,
He used it for a loo.

Kitty cat and little girl,
Fought jungle wars, climbed trees;
And then we sailed the seven seas,
Buccaneers were we.

We'd hide behind the sofa,
The curtains or in the hall,
And wait in ambush for our prey.
We really had a ball.

My sister's boyfriend happened by,
One night as we were hiding.
I yelled "Chaarge!" and Smokey leaped.
The boy knocked off the siding,

On the bookcase in the hall,
As Smokey climbed his leg,
And we were sent to bed that night,
T'hout supper though I begged.

Incarcerated pirates we,
The game continued on.
We'd wait until they were asleep,
Then eat till it was gone.

Then we'd escape into the night,
With valuables they cherished.
We'd be away by early light,
Leaving the guard embarrassed.
© Judy Ball  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: buccaneers, childhood, pets,
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Aaaarrrrrrggghhhh

AAARRRRRRHHHH – for contest


‘Twas a cold dark night
Winds freshing from the Nor’east
Sheets rippling in the October wind.
Approaching the dimly lit prize
Visions of “booty”, treasure to be ours.
Challengedby the sentry’s:  “Who goes there?”

“I’m a Pirate!!”  sez I

“Where are your Buccaneers?” sez he.

“Under me “Buccan’at” sez I.

9/2/2015
Categories: buccaneers, halloween, humor, october,
Form:

Grandma

The fighting lulled for a moment
                          We were waiting for grandma's comment
                        "Oh my sons had fussed over their children"
                        "Go to bed right now and read Mrs. Mildren"

                           We were reading the buccaneers' tales  
                             Plundering ships,adventures in sails 
                            It was grandma's gift her own choice
                    She sang, nature had gifted her with a fine voice

                        She sang for us when pirates went to sleep
                         In our dreams Mrs. Mildren's words creep
                      She touched our hands we turned over in bed
               She kissed our heads moon eclipsed sun sneaked in red

                We came out of the room and she greeted "Hello boys"
                  "O sure these two little imps would ride Rolls Royce"
                     She is no more now she is sleeping in her grave
                 She had hushed the stars her grandchildren are brave





Contest Name :	How You Make The Stars Hush 
Sponsor:	Justin Bordner
7th March 2015
Categories: buccaneers, grandmother,
Form: Rhyme

S O S

Tiny pirates
Have capsized my bed
And stolen my sleep
Blast those little
Buccaneers!
Now I'm counting sheep!



written by Deb Wilson
The motif is philisophical
© Deb Wilson  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: buccaneers, funny, sleep,
Form: Enclosed Rhyme
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