Best Morgan Poems
GARRETT A. MORGAN
GARRETT A. MORGAN birth outside Paris, Kentucky
Inventor of Smoke hood model day respirator
Hair straitening combs, stop lights
Things for sewing machines
Yes! Mr. Morgan invented that
2/12/18
by James Edward Lee Sr.
Me name is Daniel Morgan
There’s a thousand pounds on me head
Just me and me native lad
We upset the Traps,
the silly chaps,
Gawd strike me dead.
The Traps were camping ,
on the green old lagoon.
Me n Billy shot a few
Had em squealing like a loon,
In New South Wales,
after noon.
Mad Dog Morgan is me name,
Bushranging is me plurry game,
With my pistol you will bail up,
Some say I’m really quite insane,
Some wont give me up,
either?
So they shot me in the throat,
An here I lie a dying,
Cut off me bloody head ,
Gawd strike me dead,
Police desk, me skull, a lying.
Scrotum for tobacco pouch.
For Victoria’s top Policeman,
Pretty prize,
yes dead or alive,
Don’t be sad n blue, a grieving {about 1865)
Don Johnson
This Irish guy had lots of support,
From the ex convict’s n Aussie sports ,
Deported Irish of all sorts
Not really, not surprising!
Come all, sail along with me!
Welcome aboard to a Pirate's Ship of World History
I’ll be your story teller, to you I will relay
All about the great buccaneer named, Sir Henry
Sir Henry Morgan was his complete name
Whose valiance had brought him huge wealth and fame
Plundering ships…. storming the Spanish Main
Doing his mission with no mercy…his fierceness’ flame!
This valiant Welsh Army showed his atrocity
Since the later time of sixteenth hundred century
Seizing Providencia, , Puerto Principe and other towns
Elected as admiral after conquering them all successfully.
Ruthless attacks went on… invading Spanish settlements
No fear at all, a notorious privateer of English men
Aiming Puerto Bello, a city with vast treasure that time
He took over 200,000 pieces of eight, such a glorious reign!
Gathering all men to his eleven-ship fleet
Deliberating Cartagena de Indias, their next hit
But his intoxicated men had accidentally ignited his ship
His fleet was reduced, Maracaibo was the next goal to defeat
‘Though he’d sometimes unlucky chances along the way
Storms, striking reefs, or captured ships….yet, no dismay
Epic voyage continued in large vessels with his unique tactics
Most Audacious Leader of Expedition: his West Indies’ Name Display
That was his most significant voyage from 1665 and beyond
Where he also sailed with greater fate at Cow Island
On 1670, he targeted Panama firing and burning its ground
And conquered the whole troops of Gov. Perez de Guzman
Sir Henry Morgan was a respectable man ‘til he died
For he did his mission for England’s sake, 'though he was tried
His immense contributions to Jamaica were remarkable
A dependable Hero in his power, one of the England’s Prides!
©2016Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
Dec. 30, 2015 1.55pm
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
Henry Morgan
Pirate of the Caribbean
Henry Morgan is my name
Pirating is my fame
My story has been told
There’s only one I claim
1635 was the year of my birth
The eldest son of a gentleman farmer
In Llanrhymny, Wales. I had
no desire in filling the shoes of my father
With hopes of adventure and fun
I left to seek my fame and fortune
Shanghaied and shipped off to the West Indies
and sold in Barbados was my misfortune
I survived and regain my freedom
and was recruited by a pirate crew
Prospering in my new profession we
bought our own ship and sailed the ocean blue
Raiding the Caribbean Spanish settlements
earning us a reputation as ruthless
fearsome, villainy buccaneer pirates
under old Dutch pirate Capt. Edward Mansveltz
In 1672 I was brought up on charges.
Attacking Panama violated a treaty
between England and Spain. Found not guilty
Instead Knighted by King Charles II and set free
Knighted pirate of the Caribbean
12/29/2015
Poetry Contest: A storm on the Spanish Main
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
Sir Henry Morgan, Welsh born
Wasn't a pirate but a privateer so it's shown
As he had a document from King Charles II
Authorising to attack enemy ships for gain
His most famous attack was on
Panama City in 1670., where he seized upon
Vast amounts of Gold.
Then captured Puerto Bello by overwhelming the garrison
This was a legendary attack
He agreed to leave the town not ransack
After receiving a handsome ransom.
Written about ever after this unbelievable luck
Although he had exceeded his commission
He returned a hero his likability was proven
he was given the title of
Pirate Lord of the Brethren Court so it's written
He stormed the Caribbean Coast attacking the Spanish fleet
Then going ashore and pillaging and ravishing, an easy feat
Looting the gold stored there and causing havoc
Always on the attack, never governed defeat
He fought one battle too many and
was captured in 1672 and transported to England
Where at his trial was able to prove his innocence.
he said he was but obeying the orders he had in his hand
Was acquitted sent back after being knighted
by King Charles II, he was delighted
when made Lieutenant Governor of Jamaica
Where he lived up to his name of being farsighted
From a humble beginning in Wales
Astounded people never fails
to wonder about this life he chose
To live his life attacking, plundering under sails
Penned 6 September 2015
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
The snow mountains bowed heavily
As Morgan-Kara touched its base
The spirits silently circled
Waiting for him to call
People watched in reverence
As ancestors came forth
But dark clouds soon gathered
For the God of the Dead was livid
No touching the dead Morgan-Kara
Bellowed the mighty voice
But silently Morgan-Kara brought forth
The dead one by one
God of the Dead flew on raven wings
To let the High God know
To Morgan-Kara it was just another day
The High God trapped his soul
Sealed it in a glass bottle
People cowered in fear
Morgan-Kara retreated in a cave
He silently played his magic drum
And climbed with it to the heaven above
The great Shaman now turned into a wasp
Bit the High God on his head
Startled the God left the bottle
Which he carried back to earth
As Morgan-Kara emerged
People bowed in faith and cheer
For here was Morgan-Kara
Reborn again and again
Based on the legends of Lake Baikal, Siberia
J.P. Morgan liked collecting
And he could afford it.
If some treasure was affecting,
Bam! He up and scored it.
Visit his vast reading room,
With books stacked to the ceiling.
If he read them, I assume
He found them all appealing.
Leather volumes, choice and rare,
And Bibles by the score;
Priceless tomes beyond compare
And still, he wanted more.
I can’t imagine all that wealth,
When nothing’s out of reach.
To choose between such stock and health,
I’d like a dose of each!
Sir Henryi Morgan lived a life
of rags to riches. In his time,
he first was an indentured slave.
When freed, he drifted into crime.
The century was seventeenth,
The New World under Spanish rule.
A pirate Morgan had become,
and to the Spaniards he was cruel.
Sir Morgan managed to become
the captain of his own large crew,
controlling many ships and men.
This Welshman had a lot to do!
With Mansfield, Morgan sailed southwest,
there plundering St. Catherine.
Escaping, he sailed elsewhere then
assembling seven hundred men.
A raid in Cuba yielded him
A very hefty sum of gold.
To Portobelo he then sailed.
Five hundred men they were, all told.
Four hundred men marched forth with him
To Portobelo; then again
he raided other towns and gained
himself prestige plus ships and men.
At last he made his boldest move.
On Panama he set his sight.
In jungle land, he cunningly
took risks and won this major fight.
A pillager and murderer,
in England he was later tried.
Yet in the end, he saw crime pay.
Respectable and rich he died!
For Joe Maverick's "A storm on the Spanish Main" Poetry Contest
On unbearably pleasant days
she beckons the ferryman
to taxi her to the
dark places of her past
to stock up on bitterness,
envy, rancor
a delusional cocktail for the
attention-starved addict
with the trademark, fatalistic,
false sense of power.
Self-respect makes a break for it
while she coddles demons in her sleep.
It’s a lovely casket, my grandmother said
With tears in my eyes, I nodded my head
I did not want her to see me cry,
But seeing him there, I knew there was no use to try
To hold back the tears, so they started to flow
As I started the process of letting you go
I cried two tears that fell onto your sleeve
At the bittersweet thought of letting you leave
I took hold of your hand in mine once again
And I remembered how warm it once had been
With this thought, the tears began to pour
Until I saw something I had not noticed before
My eyes had been cloudy for such a long while
That I hadn’t noticed, your mouth was turned up in a smile
And as I looked at your face, my tears no longer streaming,
I suddenly understood why you were beaming
Your body is here, but your spirit has gone
Ascended to the heavens, your journey goes on
I picture you entering through the golden gate
Anxious to see the wonderful things that await
Cliff Jr. appears, your long departed son
You feel no more pain, your battle is won
In the place you are now, suffering does not exist
I feel such comfort as I realize this
It’s nine o’clock now, and it’s time to go
I love you so much, and I know that you know
I know that one day I will see you again
My heart at peace, I wait until then
In loving memory of Clifford Morgan Evans
There is no African American history,
or Native American history,
or Irish American history,
or Italian American history,
or German American history,
or Chinese American history,
or Hispanic American history,
or White American history...
There is only American History,
--- and Morgan Freeman got it right!
(Grantham New Hampshire-February, 2017)
Two hundred and three long years have flown
Since you swung in Gallows Lane.
Now only two rough and mossy stone
Memorials remain.
And one recounts the sin and shame,
The ignominious death,
The bastard child, the guilt, the blame,
Judge Hardinge's righteousness.
But the other recalls your suffering;
Its gentle words intone:
'The one among you without sin -
Let him first cast a stone.
But why did you take the knife, Mary,
Out of the kitchen drawer?
Your baby just wanted a life, Mary,
And you asked for little more.
Did you take the knife to cut the cord?
Did you panic when first she cried?
That wailing everyone ignored?
The blood you tried to hide?
When they dragged you out of the tiny cell,
After a winter in Presteigne gaol,
You shivered and stumbled and nearly fell,
Your fear too great and your heart too frail.
But no-one watched you cross the street
To the place allotted for retribution;
Your hair flowed over the winding sheet
They'd dressed you in for your execution.
And no-one watched as you hung and swung,
For the law was not well served that day.
Was Mary Morgan fair and young,
Silenced by one who'd led her astray?
They thought so when they cut you down,
And claimed your body as their own;
Your legend lives on in Presteigne Town,
Judge Hardinge's grave long overgrown.
The Morgans were having
seven guests that night,
They had dinner and were
drinking peppered ale,
The eldest son stood behind
his father,
The rest of the family retired
to bed ,
The stranger introduced
his crew of men to them,
First was Billy the Damm,
He was a Chicago family man
who lost his family by a group
of rich boys looking for fun,
He took revenged and
surrendered to the cops,
But the warden freed him and
the other five men in the
blocks,
The word was out to take out
their lives without a trial,
Big and powerful people who
wanted them dead without a
fuss,
Second was Le Kent from
Chinatown,
He got mixed up in some
triad gang fight with the
neighbourhood blacks,
His home got burnt down and
no one helped,
An example for saving a black
girl from being raped,
He met his tormentors and
burnt them all that night,
The third is Oak a big black
mute who got almost beaten
to death by rival gang for
kissing one of theirs,
She died in his arms trying to
save him from a gun shot,
He came back a year later
and broke the backs of every
enemy he knows,
And buried them alive in a
huge pit twelve in all,
It was past three when they
all went to bed,
But in the snoring of men
Two of them were awake and
watching over the family,
The Stranger at the window
looking outside and the
fourth man with deadly glaze
at his back.