Best Galleons Poems
Treasure from the sea
Golden doubloon
Sixteenth Century artifact
By ancestors hewn
Earth’s history lays buried
Beneath five oceans
As undersea tremors
Create violent commotions
Freeing from Spanish galleons
Precious metals, gemstones
To greet early beachcombers
History on loan
Memories of bygone ages
Scattered on the sand
Finally kissed by sun again
While in a searcher’s hand
I pursue this morning trek
With Atlantis on my mind
Seeking proof at last
In treasures I might find
When ancient civilizations
Seem to disappear
Comb the beach, you might find
The evidence is here
For like a phoenix rising
New finds appear each day
And I’ll not stop searching
Till doubts I can allay
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.
Barefoot on the paving slab chill, concrete
feet feel frostbite emanations in their callused souls;
rooftop mystique clamours silent slate triangles,
perched the stray cat observers, red-eyes smoking coals.
Down to the river's edge where swaying reeds
feed mongrel contemplations with moist whispered words;
rusty oil-slicked surfaces lick the muddy banks,
karma sutra assassins are the predatory birds.
Fixated upon a frozen traffic system, bolt-locked,
dumb-shocked by electric one way streets to dead ends;
barstool poets weep sleep-sozzled cabbage tears
for the closing-time tragedy of long-time absent friends.
Drunkards shamble on beer-stained coliseum floors, grumble,
mumble incomprehensible diatribes into thin air;
the memorial park benches flake skin and rot within,
white spirits rape the dreams that anyone should care.
Deserted boardwalks spool a crooked travel,
unravel with myopic glint and blink, cat's eyes dying, died,
and the desolated song from night's deflated lung
hums doggerel consolation with no meaning left inside.
Illegitimate offspring of fatherless daughters and sons,
buns in sceptic ovens, burnt baked black offerings;
sacrifices on toilet stall altars, to lie in state
no more than ether, aborted ghosts, empty superfluous things.
Saviours ride no pale horses, immaculate white stallions,
galleons never sail to where the sun pristinely sets,
for the purpose of this life resides in its conclusion,
deserve has nothing to do with it and nothing is all it begets
The detritus of a household of smokers was a joy to the young child, stifled in a family he believed he had outgrown. Matchsticks, by the score, he used to build magical castles with towers to climb or Spanish Galleons to sail away to places far. A live match found was a rare treasure, a pregnant opportunity to destroy--a secret power. The best were the small cardboard matchboxes with their slide-out tray, which he arranged like a chest of a hundred tiny drawers. Each drawer contained a precious item, a pebble, a penny, a bloodstained band-aid, a tooth, four-leafed clover, a tear-stained note, a lock of hair. . .
weaving
a smaller web
spider in a box
Like A Child Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
Date wrote: 4th July 2022
Down the pine-studded mountain and towards the sea
Me, mounted on a rickety, swaying, desperately-desiring bus,
Floorboard splotched with rusted holes revealing
tires
Below my feet
and salted sea wind soon
Breathing down my neck.
The Luzon day stretched before me, road
Singing in it's curves
drowning out Philippine faces painting
Collages of
colors and years.
Revealing Spanish lighthouses beckoning
Lost souls and
Galleons
Scattering gold onto
ivory shores.
One hour later,
Nerves frayed from endless bumps,
I tumble onto the palm-fringed beach to
Witness
Waves cresting like glittering
Champagne and a
Delicately worn grandmother being
Gingerly dipped into the
Azure Softness like a
Queen Cat in a
Cherub's cradle.
Nature’s Single Dad’s
THE LEAFY SEA DRAGON
Gracefully swaying without need for speed
Are creatures of beauty, disguised as seaweed.
Up to twelve inches long from tail to snout
These delicate creatures just drift about.
They carry, as they move like galleons in sail,
Silk-like appendages, leafy and pale
On back spines, projecting as masts on a ship
Sailing the oceans, they rise and they dip,
To the rhythm of moon tides; full or neap,
They travel the seas; these Dragons of the Deep.
Through weed-covered reefs and meadows of sea grass
There’s neither a neigh nor a moo as they pass.
They resemble sea horses in flowing silk gowns
Drifting on rhythms, dancing up and then down.
They slow dance through the water just moving around
No fire, no flames from these dragons; not a sound.
The mother will lay two hundred eggs on Dad’s patch
Of soft sponge, where safely they’ll hatch.
The sun flashes golden as she drifts on by,
While in the shadow on his tail, his offspring lie.
This single Dad of the deep tends a new generation,
Of Leafy Sea Dragon eggs; a fascinating creation.
Less than one inch when first hatched from the eggs
As newly formed babies; ready for life without legs.
They drift as if they feed, gaining the silky covered bone
To a length of twelve inches by the time they’re full grown.
The cycles of the moon dictate the rhythms and motion
Of this Leafy Sea Dragon in the great Southern Ocean.
The Leafy Sea Dragon is just one of Natures' Single Dads worthy of a mention for the survival of the species.
Do dreams come true?
Certain as the sea is blue
I know that somewhere grass is greener
Lands that sleep brings ever nearer
Where rainbows sail across the sky
Just follow them and hope to find
A pot of gold, full, overflowing
With galleons and silver pieces
Good wishes, butterfly kisses
And I will dip my hand inside
To take for me all of what´s mine
But then I wake and it all fades
In light of stark reality
Where everyone and everything
Is so much more intimidating
And every choice, move or decision
Seems like a be all end all mission
So when it comes to push or shove
Moment of truth, ready or not
Will I fall or will I fly?
Will I even dare to try?
To grasp these thoughts and make them real
For they all say don´t think just feel
If you want it then just take it
Neat and simple
Like a dimple
Doesn´t seem so complicated
And still yet I hesitated
It is somewhat paralyzing
All this nonstop analyzing
Evaluating calculating
Listing all the pros and cons
And thousand possible outcomes
Mind keeps spinning round and round
And when it stops what will be found?
I´ll never know with time enough
Doubtlessly hindsight´s the stuff
It makes me yearn and moan if only
This or that I´d not be lonely
So wait not waste not
Seize the day, take a chance
The dawn may change the circumstance
For better or worse
Whatever the course
Just do it, close my eyes and jump
Have faith I will survive sans bumps
And though the landing likely won´t be
Exactly like I pictured it
That doesn´t mean the choice was wrong
‘Cause when all is said and done
I´ll still look back with satisfaction
For I had the strength and gumption
To risk it all, answer the call
To take control
I took the hits
And it was worth it!
Sir Henry Morgan was a privateer,
And a ruthless, mean buccaneer;
Considered a pirate by the Spanish,
He became, in time a millionaire.
Henry was born in Wales to a farmer,
Gaining fame and fortune by valour;
He made a name for himself in Jamaica,
Soon he joined the Navy to become a sailor.
Captain Morgan and his large fleet,
Plundered the coast of Cuba to defeat;
Torturing the residents for their riches,
His ships and men did not know, retreat.
He enriched himself and his crew,
With hundreds of men and many ships too;
They attacked the Spanish Main,
On armed galleons, swiftly they flew.
Life on a wooden ship was not romantic,
Damp and cramped, filthy and botanic;
Pest infested; food spoiled and water reeked,
Sailors died, and some jumped ship, frantic.
He was ordered by Jamaica's Governor,
To return to port as a lawbreaker;
Morgan refused and gathered more ships,
He found the most daring pirates ever.
They set sail to attack Portobello with hopes,
Storming the Fort with ladders and ropes;
Staying for two months gathering and looting,
Collecting wealth, then leaving on their boats.
Morgan continued for years to plunder,
Talking enemy ships and prisoners;
He was finally arrested but found not guilty,
And he was appointed Jamaica's acting Governor.
___________________________
August 19, 2015
Rubaiyat
For the contest, A Storm On The Spanish Main, sponsor, Joe Maverick
Second Place
Like an endless curve I have reached the bend
Of my destiny to an atmosphere,
Above the horizon, my trails ascend.
Creatures of water swerving their tails,
Galleons roll, cruises of Atlantis
Along the foams, brave the olden fables.
The evening cloudline, glimmering so bright,
My final pilgrimage, the blackest sea;
To the ledge of the isle, a glorious light.
In episodes, I have seen the view of life,
A seafarer hunted by brazen tides,
Crossing again on the crest that abides.
Peaceful wavelets daring my calm inside,
Confronting the ocean of a dark ride.
The Islands Contest
courtesy of Anthony Slausen
N.Arana's entry
They sailed from ports
From Europe's past
To Ancient Civilisations
How long would they last
Genoa, Santander
To name just two
Galleons, traders
Who helped who
Distant lands
So far from their home
Indigenous tribes
Whose kings they'd dethrone
Aztec and Inca
Civilisations iconic
Along came the white man
Chronic
Pillaged for riches
To send back home
To fat bellied monarchs
Whose throne's groaned
Indigenous culture
Stripped from their land
Preached new culture
Forced to understand
Great civilisations
Of this planets past
With wanton greed
Would never last
Civilisations modern
Whose next on the list
New Guinea tribes
White mans twist
To look back
At the carnage thrust
White mans greed
Was their only must
For all the lands
Who felt their sting
White man came, took everything
" Inspired by Midnight Oil "
Edward Kenway was a pirate
He sailed the Spanish Main
He plundered British merchant ships
And the Galleons of Spain
Once he was a farmer
He walked behind the plough
But now he ploughed the oceans deep
He was a pirate now
He started as a deckhand
Till his bravery won through
Then he became a captain bold
And ruled a pirate crew
He sailed into Nassau
And he took that town
It was then the British Government
Ruled they must take him down
One bright sunny morning
The fleet sailed into the bay
They were British Men of War
They were going to make him pay
But captain Kenway had a plan
He knew what they must do
He slowly drained his pint of ale
The stood to face his crew
Come on lads we'll to the fort
Make them taste the cannon ball
If we surrender now me boys
They'll surely hang us all
Kenway occupied the fort
Behind its strong stone walls
He knew he had the greatest chance
To make the British fall
He had a dozen cannons
Set toward the sea
He swore an oath upon his sword
That he'd keep Nassau free
The oath that he made to them
Did his men inspire
They all swore to do the same
As the British opened fire
They felt the ramparts shudder
As the heavy metal balls
Flew through the air and thudded
Into the fortress walls
But Kenway stood before his men
And this speech he made
Fire your cannons at them boys
Lets make them afraid
We will make them shake with fear
They'll turn and run and then
They will always rue the day
They messed with Kenway's men
The pirates fired the cannons
Two British ships went down
But one hundred troops stormed the beach
They were trying to take the town
But Kenway had prepared right well
He had men upon that shore
Hidden under canvas sails
Ready for the war
The troops were taken by surprise
The pirates did attack
The were outnumbered three to one
But they sent them running back
Kenway's cannons fired again
And four more ships did sink
All the pirates roared huzzah
As they sank into the drink
Fourteen British men of war
Limped out of the bay
Their sails were torn their hulls were holed
As they sailed away
Through the years many tales were told
The legend slowly grew
Of how the British Navy
Were crushed by Kenway's crew
IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : Part XXXI
IF you pull a long lagging-behind face
You deserve your copycat status in more than one way
Marco Polo brought back cracker-power not to powder face
Noble Savage Injuns and Indians shuddered and gave way
Now if you pull a long WOG face
Aping the Colonial Master in every bourgeois way
No use straddling neck feet dangling front of face
Giant still supports the Dwarf while striding away
If you still will pull that long sullen " heathen " face
Thinking how easy the tidal wave you'd turn back anyway
Vasco's galleons rained broadside thunder balls on village place
While your loin-clothed turbaned ancestors scurried in fear
If you then pull your long self-satisfied face
At your hosts' Midas touch riding main fleets of Raleigh
To stud Crown lapis lazuli rubies opal spice and maize
Needs he as much now you to beg fawn and yeah-say
If you must then pull your long infra-dig face
Hankering after titles prizes rubbing shoulders in hallowed hallway
Colonial caste of mind gives exacting the Shylock pound of flesh
Smites your integrity dignity breaks spirit robs merits if " I YOU DARE ! " say
© T. Wignesan - Paris, February 8, 2019
Autumnal mist quivers over meadows
like a galleons sails billowing gently
on calm seas of jade green and yellows,
steering it's ghostly mirages deftly,
hedgerows with wildlife masked in shadows
preparing for expected change of seasons
from amicable warm winds to soft arrows
discharged from cumulus depressions,
Celestial star low in Crimson sky blinding
light from cloudless horizon, exposed
hills in silhouette, oil painting of defining
brush strokes created in webs disclosed,
birds desert undesirable climate changes
hibernation becomes natural performance
elongated sleep, calm heartbeats arranges
thought patterns of survival from romance,
long warm days turn into long cold nights
bracing crisp air scented with burning wood
from smoke filled chimneys such delights
burning embers changing mood to feel good.
galleons passing
body of saline water
far reaching graveyard
5/3/2018
This man o' war,
comandeered!
By men to be feared,
the likes you never saw
The hunt for gold doubloon
in the Spanish Main
Must end soon,
the buccaneers getting restless again
To take a treasure ship as a prize
To see,such wealth with ones's own eyes
Satins,silks,pearls and gold,
these pirates,so bold!
Silver,rubies,emeralds and sapphires too,
a pirates quest
For they sail the ocean blue,
not willing to rest
until they get the ultimate treasure chest
These rich green isles
set in sea so blue
Bright sun,
for so many nautical miles
By musket and gun
Treasure ships attract pirate crew
Such exotically named ships
and the terror they invoke
Fiery Dragon,Revenge,Adventure Galley
Rising Sun,Fancy and of course...Black Joke
The Caribbean,a favourite hunting ground
Sails unfurled,
they stalk the seas of the world
Unrelenting in their desire for treasure mound
Ripple of shrapnel,
Lunge of grapple
Laying of grapeshot,
this is a pirates' lot
This cannon to make ships heave to
Powder and ball,
on a sea so blue
Treasure! A pirates call.
This lush tropical isle,
so green
The like, you have never seen
Where pirates pertake in cunning and guile
This white beach..............
The haunt of Blackbeard
The infamous Edward Teach!
Gold,satins,silks and rubies too
Diamonds, pearls, they will persue
Spanish galleons of gold,
the best prize to hold
For the pirates of the Spanish Main,
treasure,an ill gotten gain
The risk high
The rewards to hope...........
The likely outcome,
for some............
dangling at the end of a rope
This treasure buried on some tropical green isle
Waiting to be found,
by cunning and guile
Doubloons,silver abound!
Emeralds,rubies and sapphires too,
all waiting on a sea of blue
To be discovered..................
By you.