Best Crossbones Poems
Crew of scoundrels, scalawags
Skulls and crossbones, on her flags
Hull held low by money bags
The fruitful Pirate's Lady
Upon her splintered deck they rove
Safely anchored, hidden cove
Her belly stowed with treasure trove
The faithful Pirate's Lady
Treasure hidden, booby traps
Clever riddles, cryptic maps
Soon to return, to ivory caps
So fleet the Pirate's Lady
Sails at full, for seven days
On east horizon, looms her prey
They intercept with cannon fray
The frightful Pirate's Lady
Categories:
crossbones, sea,
Form:
Rhyme
I’m a scoundrel that travels by sea
with me mates. We are happy and free
cause we live life with ease
doing just what we please.
It’s the life of a pirate for me!
If you see in the distance our mast
with the skull and the crossbones, run fast!
We’ll be comin’ for you
and your women folk too.
There is nothing of yours that’ll last!
Cause we’ll loot and pollute till we’re through,
burn your houses and then come for you.
Better run far away.
Run into the next day,
cause your gold we’ll be lookin’ for too.
Leave by boat, and I’m gonna be frank,
when we catch ya, that boat will be sank.
Once we drink us some rum,
we’ll be having our fun
watching captives of ours walk the plank!
I suppose we might have sympathy
for a maid who acts dutifully.
But if you’ve got a wife,
better run for your life,
for no honor nor scruples have we!
Since a pirate don’t do what he should,
if you see us in your neighborhood,
better get up and go.
Bad is good and Yo! Ho!
Me pirate life’s better than good!
For the the A Pirate's Life For Me Poetry Contest of Kelly Deschler
Categories:
crossbones, adventure, humor,
Form:
Limerick
It was "The Cape" in early June
Along with her sister Vie
They had strolled down past the dunes
Under a cloudless sky
She could taste the ocean salt
On a swirling southern breeze
In new dresses mother bought
Instead of their dungarees
On a rock, the eldest in blue
Matching ribbon in her hair
Going on 'bout a boy she knew
The youngest pretending to care
But sailing on a green grass ocean
Drifting in a pirate's dream
A young girl with a swashbuckling notion
Stealing gold from a Spanish queen
Looting up and down the coast
Black patch over one eye
Sailing with Blackbeard's ghost
Skull and crossbones flying high
Then suddenly, back in a blink
Captured by mother's call
A girl pirate dressed in pink
Her saber, a red parasol
an original poem by Daniel Turner
Categories:
crossbones, adventure, imagination,
Form:
Quatrain
You could give a look to slay
those that choose to disobey.
You could choose sticks and stones
and warn your enemy with crossbones.
You could trick, trip and roll your eyes,
bid the traitor to a duel, say your goodbyes.
Still, when you are not in one accord -
The pen is mightier than the sword.
It draws a line in the sand, with ink,
into the mire of words your enemy will sink,
and not alone, but with his or her treasury of friends
as they view themselves through your vocabulary lens.
Like a volcano, earthquake or cyclonic spout
your nemesis can’t help but hear your shout.
3/22/2023
Categories:
crossbones, writing,
Form:
Rhyme
The rose is full the emblem
of the thief, skull and crossbones
the compositor of grief;
love purloins the heart,
envy steals the soul
and darkness shrouds the day.
Life is hard and tragedy is tough,
downheartedness is hard to take;
to break the bond of sorrow
means an effort of the will,
once overcome the sun's caress
will bless your window sill!
Categories:
crossbones, inspirational
Form:
Verse
Like many merchant vessels
That sailed from our Mersey shore
This sturdy piece of timber
Can hold its own in tales of yore
A dried up piece of flotsam
Washed up on Wirral banks
Was dutifully cleaned and dressed
And a verse written on its shank
Amid the other bits of timber
That made up the Black Pearl
This poem had taken its place
With the many flags unfurled
Everything in Pearl had stories
Of pirates tales galore
Made up, true or invented
No one really knows for sure
But each made up this pirate ship
That was not built in any dock
Neither wind nor tide could shake her
Sturdy on her rock
And then one day a storm rolled in
December Twenty thirteen
Unleashed torrential fury
That until then none had seen
Tempest battered Black Pearls flanks
Steadfast in the wind she’d sway
Ripped viciously at her robust planks
Sadly some things were washed away
One of these was this poem
That a little boy had wrote
Whose parents could not see the ship
Now at sea awash did float
Although lost in the Mersey’s waters
Both brown as murky tea
This poem on wood was never lost
Nor did she sail back to sea
Instead with the tides it ebbed and flowed
Liverpool’s docks had called it there
From where it may have started
No one knew or even cared
And then one day some months ahead
Lewis Baigent found sure fame
For bobbing in dock waters
He found the very same
Words still clear upon the wood
Not a letter out of place
The chain and rope still part of it
And the skull and crossbones face
The word got round to Black Pearl’s crew
The booty was held and fast
They sent a party to redeem her
To be returned again at last
To take its place once again
Upon famed Black Pearl’s hull
And stories, myths and legends
Will abound ‘til we are full
Of yarns and tales and stories rich
One greater than the other
Dredged from imaginations
And narrated without any bother
So gather round my children
Mums and dads and more
Dogs and cats and grown ups
And you loiterers on the shore
For what I have to tell you
Is not all just hearsay
This poem has ventured near and far
But has been returned this day
Categories:
crossbones, adventure, boat, celebration, community,
Form:
Ballad
I dream to be a buccaneer out on a sailing ship
Purple parrot on my shoulder sharp cutlass on my hip.
Sailing upon the seven seas it's adventure I would seek
Treasure chests of gold doubloons I will capture from the meek.
A striking figure I would cast with skull and crossbones on my hat
“Surrender now me lowly dogs or prepare for death combat!”
“Cannon shot and the taste of steel should you choose to fight!
So save your souls and join my crew or to Davey Jones you’ll go this night.”
“Blood ’tis not my favoured wine. I’ve drunk it fully from my cup,
Surrender now me lowly dogs or blood I’ll feast from pups!”
A noble leader I will make winning battles from my lips,
Admiral of an awesome fleet of four and twenty ships.
The bards of court will sing of me, a debonair dashing brute
Swooning lasses wholly lusting for a buccaneer and his loot.
____________________________
After twenty years of pirating and spilling claret on the seas
Death lives upon my shoulders after brutal killing sprees.
Bereavement is the briny wake of this immoral trip
My lust's for wealth not fantasies, and innocence has lost its grip.
A hollow man with no regret the keys to Hades at my behest
No need for words of harmony as breathe stops, within your chest.
Stand and fight and I’ll feed the sharks or yield and I’ll do the same.
I have no need for spineless crew unless my blade you tame.
No value do I see in life unless it’s ransom that I pursue
I’ve slit the throats of worthless filth, destructions the path I imbue.
My crew they only follow me for their blood lust I do quell
They’re damned to me forever till we meet the gates of hell.
My whispered name fills men with dread, I’m a murderous bastard beast
The widows that I’ve created will rejoice when I’m deceased.
Categories:
crossbones, dark, deep, innocence, muse,
Form:
Rhyme
We are hours into the mountain riverway, the current unfriendly to us
paddling earlier had simply strained the men to burning exhaustion,
those who have the shoulder strength are paddling the two larger canoes
while the other six vessels are being pulled along in the side shadows with elk skin rope,
their feet and ankles paying the price,
an incredible sight is rapidly, dramatically coming towards us,
two hundred yards from where the river bends
an unmanned horse is galloping in our direction
with a confident craze in it's agility as it stomps through the rocky mud shore to the left,
running like a messenger of madness, reckless and unstoppable in passion,
a white, grey spotted horse, mane long, white and smoking in the wind,
it has already run past my canoe 50 yards off shore
but Sheild's canoe, being pulled very close to it's path
and McNeal has gotten a rope to lasso this animal,
in trying to claim it they have only sped the horse's instincts
McNeal nearly trampled, has gotten a face full of rock water for his effort,
that beauty is long gone, but everyone saw the sign,
the hip of the horse had a skull, and crossbones of rifles painted in black,
suffice it to say our hearts are humpin hot!
down here where we are predictable targets confined to the river's warpath
in order to saddle up on the upcoming banks some of our men must remain exposed
everyone else has rifles lead ready and hugged, telescopes spying space,
Clark and I kneeling with plank boards for armor, rifles in hand
Sacagawea standing inbetween us at the nose of our trespassing vessel
breasts uncovered, her son Jean in her arms swaddled in a U.S. flag
repeating a Shoshone lyric of peace, her clarion voice of sincere spirit
echoing through the mountain passes like an angel of sapphire wisdom
in this methodical moment of cautious maneuver
I realize that I love her,
I love her like eyes love color,
she is so above the ordinary, so forbidden to me,
we must clarify to the unseen onlookers that we are no warparty
but that we are no laundry squaws either,
20 minutes later we find a suitable shore line and disembark swiftly,
there be no indication of Indians, no presence of hostility,
J.A.B.
Categories:
crossbones, adventure, love,
Form:
Epic
Deep ocean of azure blue
Overhead seagulls circling flew
In constant motion, heaving sides
The old merchant ship upon it rides
Rust scorched it's barnacled coat
Salt encrusted railings forever afloat
On the horizon's sinking sun's amber glow
Beckons enticingly along the flow
New moon appearing from out of the west
Silvery waves splintering against foamy crest
Figures emerging from the hold below
Peering skywards at the star studded show
Then into action to each their appointed task
Some heaving ropes, others mounting the mast
All working together to achieve one aim
To secure the sails aloft the bounteous main
A rumble of thunder and a flash lightening sound
Mountainous waves gather pace all around
Working in unison the crew now complete
All tasks meritorious as a well drilled fleet
A shout from the Captain, as the thunder roars
Urgently gesticulating "secure the oars"
Rain clashing as in sword play
Freeze drench they stand
As they see the top sail rend
Now all secured they disappear down
Below decks they ruminate
All worrying, no sound
Then vocal in assumptions from mate to mate
Until the Captain shouts "Silence no need for this din,
I shall calculate our bearings, now where to begin?"
Spreading out his charts he clears cups for a space
Each man concentrating, deep intent on each face
"Look Captain", one points "there's the Cape of Good Hope
enough time to manoeuvre and with luck stay afloat"
The temperature plummets and the crew mill around
No warmth except mittens and blankets draped around
The storm is abating and two bells is called
As each man takes turn to pump until hauled
Buckets of water overboard they keep on
Clearing sea water over gunnels, until all is gone
Ship breaking water all in it's wake
No matter the weather only headway to make
Dolphins leaping and diving below
Thoughts turn to seamen of long ago
Royal Navy Standards, a jolly jack tar
Plotting each course by the Northern Star
Pirate vessels hoisting their skull and crossbones
Biting winds moaning and pelting hailstones
Sailing ships with elaborate sails
Above the wind, sailors hearty hales
Anchorage sought and a comfortable berth
Homeward port reached and feet on the earth.
Categories:
crossbones, adventure, sea, travel,
Form:
Free verse
The Pirates
Pirates were around in the 16th century, they flew the
Jolly Roger/Scull & Crossbones and would loot and pillage
Ships at sea, for their rich cargo and gold doubloons
Over the years they have moved to land in guises as
Highwaymen and bushrangers, outlaws that steal money
As well as gold and defy the law. In modern times the
Pirate has become an even bigger threat to the film and
Music industry by bootlegging copies on videotape and
Disks, robbing performers and actors of their rightful
Royalties. Now in the days of the Internet, the pirate or
Modern day version known as a scammer, creates
All sorts of evil ways to attain money on hoax activities
Dating sites and social networking even through networks
With items for sale. Yes hoaxes and scams make up about
Seventy percent of Internet activities, which goes
Unpoliced, with people losing large ammounts of money
To these unscroupulous people every day. Can they be
Stopped? The answer is a mystery, as the world is losing
It's innocence to unstoppable theives we call pirates.
Categories:
crossbones, social,
Form:
Narrative
May Showers
When it rains it may pour on the soaking wet poor
drenched to the crossbones feeding on crumbs
too disempowered at food banks to scramble
A hurricane brewing sweeping the floor underneath
slipping away into the floods glass ceilings in sight
that cannot be reached while scraps trickle down
The rich become richer while health care gets lost
advantageous no doubt for social benefits cuts
we got money for Trident but can’t eat the bills
Europe for Britain soon a distant memory and that
powerful vision of Peace and compassion in tatters
Theresa not mother but May showers despair and
Injustice Arrogance neo-liberal Prisons and Shackles
Will someone please find me a raincoat and a rubber
dingy and pray I don’t drown on insanity’s crossings
Categories:
crossbones, cancer, may,
Form:
Free verse
I am the Project Air Bridge,
The veritable virus lord-cum-felon of duty fraud.
Fumaye's privileged his bridge that projects pompous airs.
Maelstrom, mammon coextend where it forks and fares.
Transpontine ambulances shriek, hearses creak;
Cispontine pandemia profiteerings peak.
Lip service put onto pushy pumper,
Juggling jobbery jarred into cushy number.
I am the Project Air Bridge,
A villainous virus lord-cum-gubernatorial wailing ward.
I have federal flag foil my neckties,
Have federal fiefdom at my behest.
At home seizing states' supplies,
In style feathering my own nest.
Grave grin toward myriad plunders amassing in size;
Frivolous glee unto stricken states moaning distressed.
I am the Project Air Bridge,
A versatile virus lord-cum-omnivore slyly adaptive-jawed.
All foreign aids I indiscriminately swipe and sweep,
Compatriots in need, meticulously sift and bleep.
Cronies and bogeys bogart the most and the best;
Those in the doghouse, let viruses lay them all to rest.
My wheeling and dealing can always pay off,
Just owing so much to so many I always play off.
I am the Project Air Bridge,
A heinous virus lord-cum-Old Nick's Regalement Board.
Blanketed by bereavement are betrayed people,
Their wounds bleeding undressed.
Butchered for banquet, the Bald Eagle,
My plates attending undressed.
Muddy mug shades dirty cook;
Murphy's mug shakes leprous wine.
Worse stinks history's mug book,
Ever since its accession of mine.
Silver spoon feeds up mouth; siren's spoon feels up lips.
Sicking up are malapropism and spoonerism of freudian slips:
Feasting my eyes on boons cross air bridge,
No blink for victimized crossbones' bare ridge.
This is me, the Project Air Bridge,
The very virus lord-cum-Juggernaut Accelerator of boons-for-bones baud.
Categories:
crossbones, extended metaphor,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Walking home tonight
the bourealis at its peak
walking in the circles in my mind
of the maze of the mansion
i realise i am wearing camoflauge war socks
and marching home peacefully
and as the gods told me it was time to take reality for a walk
i closed my eyes and saw the blueprint i had
and then just described it
now i'm thinking of the flag in my room of the pirate skull
and my other blue pair of socks
with the crossbones and skulls on them
and i knew with these posters of all these beautiful men around me
a mirror i tell less attractive people
to tell themselves four good things about themselves
a mirror in the shape of a bike tire
to exercise inner demons
but the planes flying over head understand wether or not we march for the socks
of meaning or the posters of the slide of beautifull people and mirrors
of vanity and selfish needs
Categories:
crossbones, introspection, life, visionary, home,
Form:
Free verse
During WW II from a frozen aircraft in the Arctic sea
The Nazi General, Schmidt, named as Red Skull sneaky
Stole Tessaract, the eerie relic of godly power untold
He wanted to channel to have the world under his fold.
He was one of the main Marvel universe antagonists
Ensured that Super Soldier Serum in him would exist
For his involvement with Hitler’s covert terrorist regime
Magneto buried him alive, but Crossbones rescued him.
To be a soldier, Steve Rogers, a commoner, aspired often
After a few discouraging initial failures he could get chosen
For the super soldier unique experiment in the US military
Serum injection made him Captain America extraordinary.
Rogers performed astonishing acts of exemplary gallantry
Like when all the prisoners of war he could alone free
Stealthily infiltrating into the fortified Nazi stronghold
Notorious Red Skull constructed in the Hydra base old.
Lest Schmidt used mass destruction weapons with delight
Superhero Rogers attacked him in his aircraft in flight
Fearing disgraceful defeat, and not capable to even retract
Supervillain Red Skull used mysteriously powerful Tesseract.
The mystic force of the contraption opened a wormhole
Sucked into it the Nazi General’s wounded body whole
The aircraft disappeared in the Arctic sea without trace
Rogers remained unlocated, Red Skull vanished in space.
______________
March 15, 2023
Contest : Marvel Supervillains
Sponsored by : Robert James Liguori
Categories:
crossbones, adventure, violence,
Form:
Rhyme
Alas oh how grave and horrendous misfortune...
Relapse written all over whole
fudge besmirched countenance
American as apple pie garden variety troll
tell tale evidence eats away
at me heart and soul
argh so much for new year's resolution
straight and true healthy eating goal.
Lofty ambition to attain once upon time
coveted, prized, and
treasured toothpick physique,
no not necessarily becoming
thin as anorexic pencil necked geek
scores of years ago,
when yours truly resembled
quiet as mouse phantasmagorical
disembodied prepubescent freak
surreally bobbing long Battle Creek.
Morphological body distortion bid me
to allow, enable, and provide suicidal
grimly reaped tally ho
with feebly uttered see yawl
back in the day circa approximately
my thirteenth circuit round the sun,
I sought to disappear into cellular vacuole
formerly carefree boy
his loose higglety-pigglety
hogtied psyche psychological,
(not in yeast wryly bred) did unroll
severely psychological afflicted son
taxed his mama and papa where
somber appalling death knell
deathly silent lugubriously reverberated
figurative emotional bell toll,
Matthew Scott starved yet hungered
for sustenance of body, mind and soul.
Pact nearly signed, sealed,
and delivered signaling demise
(mine) unwittingly inflicting horrific guise
kickstarting pinteresting repercussions no lies
lifetime developmental delay no surprize
even now this aging baby boomer tries
to shake off pervasive thought process unwise
fending off punishing
self destructive reflexive urge
after experiencing wages
of culinary sin where surge
impossible mission just desserts to purge
thus sink dentures into sweet treat
taste buds relishing joie de vivre emerge
(think chocolate fudge) flashes me memory
prior lovely skull and crossbones
nearly acknowledged funereal dirge.
Categories:
crossbones, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Bio