All humans know that it is a basic need.
When men get hungry, they have to feed.
So what does the crew of this ship have to eat?
There are only two carcasses of rotten meat.
Our doctor says everything will be fine,
if we rinse out the maggots with brine.
The cooks have to make soup for the crew.
As there is nothing else, what are they to do?
Better food is give to the Japanese prisoners of war.
The men are ready to mutiny. They can't take anymore.
Based on the 1925 Russian silent film "Battleship Potemkin"
After reading YOUR poems
What can I sandy say
Not that I’m so bad
But you guys are so great
You may or may not research
Yet your words flow like lyric
Flying my spirit like black bird
Each time I hazel hear it
Sometimes I have to reread
Because your blue ocean is so deep
Growing green mind like a tree
Swimming in pearly poetry
It’s such a beautiful thing
To be enlightened by your pen
And find excellence inspiring
Me to actually try again
Not to beat your spirit
Not to match your peacock style
But to know a heart will hear it
And maybe just maybe silver smile
Reviewing the clippings of his mountain climbs
like watching a flick solo for the umpteenth time
The longer he lingered, the tireder he grew
~ not much fun without the rest of the crew
Pirate Petey provided a pleasurable pirate fantasy for his persnickety crew
They got to make the inhabitants walk the plank, and they ran some through
sword battles and torturous techniques are were finished by a quarter ‘til two.
So they took a long luxurious nap in the Cove named aptly Pretty Boo Boo.
Grass is a taut crew;
They stand at attention
As soldiers do
With orders from the sun -
Never having thoughts
That their purpose is trite
Or any nagging doubts
Or need of strife.
How admirable their rank -
How exemplary their queue -
I whispered to one blade -
Living as they do.
One Summer night, just around dawn
A Motley Crew came to town
But there was something that filled with dread
They were all very dead.
The folk scattered to all sides
Escaping dead of all kinds
Skeletons and Zombies too
Some jokingly howling "Booo".
And so madness has begun
"Scaring people is so fun!"
"We will get you very soon!"
Roared the monsters to the tune
Of screams and chaos all around
This small and usually tranquil town.
With each bite their numbers grew
That's recruitment for this Crew
People hid, where they could
Be it house or shack of wood
Makeshift weapons were made in haste
No deadly object thrown to waste
Every owner of a gun
Got a chance of crazy fun
Those that were too scared to fight
Begged the others with all might
"Someone call an exorcist!"
"No, an army! I insist!"
But the army wasn't worried
The town just had to be buried
So they sent their pilot ace
Who flew over and bombed the place.
If one is sick and in a long queue,
One needs some guy’s immediate rescue.
No challenging one with “it’s my turn”.
What if it’s a bad case of Heartburn?
Let The Sick grab your earned position,
As you make it Quickest Decision!
If one should drop dead from your stern ‘No!’,
Watchers would The Ruthless in you know…
Yet, who is sick and in a long queue
Should know another mission is due:
His many needs reduce to ‘A few’
More focussing on Medical Crew.
The Night Crew waited for
Signs of imminent sleep
The breathing was steady
And regular, not deep
No alpha wave rhythms
No more need to wait
For the host body was
In Total Resting state
Then they started
On their daily chore
Tuning up the organs
And so much more
Checking all the vessels
For signs of impending leak
Tuning the body up to
It’s maximum possible peak
With the first signs of
The body coming awake
The Night Crew stood down
For their well earned break
Repair Control relaxed
Until the next night when
It would call them back
On duty once again.
The Day Crew took over
Their period of control
Ready to take over
The functioning whole
And the body could awake
Felling relaxed and stronger
And thanks to the Night Crew
Maybe last a little longer
Captain Cur rounded the bend and gave a snarl.
His first mate growled at his cook, Hog Carl.
Fox spy kept his eyes straight ahead to the coast.
There was a squeak from Squirrel, who annoyed him the most.
Captain Cur was annoyed by this motley crew.
But he inherited them from his Daddy, so what could he do?
The Fox had great eyes, at least and Hog Carl could cook.
Squirrel could be thrown under the water if Cur needed a look.
They were pirates on a hunt for treasure, looking near and far.
Singing shanty town songs with a laugh and a hardy har har.
Thanks Daddy Cur said, making me captain of this motley crew.
Straight ahead was an island with lapis that shined up blue.
Flora lives next door to Merlin Mouse
He is best friends with Bill O'Grouse,
They were invited to come to tea
One plus one and Miss Flora Flea.
Paw Dog and Crew Cat from number ten,
Passed Mrs Cluck the plump brown hen.
They kindly invited Mrs Cluck to tea
Two plus two and Miss Flora Flea.
The hen had laid six large eggs,
Carried in a basket by Rooster Reg.
He too was invited by Mrs Cluck
Both saw and invited Miss Deirdre Duck.
Phoebe Parrot swiftly flew in
Ray Rabbit brought his violin.
Their invites came from Benjamin
Who suddenly declared "Let the tea party begin".
Crew cat and Paw dog were together invited,
By Bob Robin; the three were very excited.
But who had invited Flora and Bob Robin to tea?
It was Squire Squirrel who lives at Three Oak Tree.
How many were invited to come to tea?
How many were very excited was it two or three?
Can you add the numbers written all the way through?
You are warmly welcome to the Counting Club Crew.
When you have finished please do tell everyone
To share in the counting and share in the fun.
There is room for all, invite your friends too
Sharing many journeys with fun counting to do.
02.06.22
I remember my crew
How we laughed together too
And everyday was such a pleasure to be
In working together happily
As the years went along
We all went other places and were gone
But the memories still remain
Of my crew together in our refrain
Some people change from years that were hard
Just keeping it together for every yard
So you may say I am different now
It’s the times more than me is the how.
© Paul Warren Poetry
We were a motley crew
No pirate flag or eye patches
Still we were gloriously dangerous
The neighborhood kids
The south side gang
We tore up the air with laughter
Running house to house with popsicles
Tormenting the dogs who chased after us
Wanting to be in laps that never sat
Never join – Please! – in taking Russia
For the less alert nations in Asia
Or choosing her own furry coat
For disguisedly sneaking into her boat.
Some Ivanovitch will be coming for you,
First amusedly radioing his crew
About “The Freshest Stowaway
To make a Human Yesterday”.
Russia doesn’t fail to get him
Simply swayed by a whim
Lengthily teaching him ‘How to Borrow’
For a desired voyage, tomorrow …
Your keenest prayer: To not end up a meal
For the Hungriest Planted Shark:
What shall off your mother’s skin peel
And make your wife like a dog bark:
Russia’s last Nobel Peace Winner
Leave confused and thinner?
And her KGB,
A Scarier TB!
It was one of those nights that a rapscallion would swoon
our pirate ship glided almost silently by the light of the moon
we were stealthily advancing on a world we did not know
They would experience our cutthroat ways before we would go
I hear they have women my bunkmate whispered to me
What would this scallywag know? He was merely twenty-three.
I hear they are pretty whispered a lad on the other side
I rolled my eyes; when we got there, where would they hide?
They were not true pirates, they did not understand.
They were bold, loud, young and foolish, not part of our band.
I was irritated with our leader for letting them get on board.
While I was thinking this, one of them loudly snored.
For over thirty years we had sneaked into this marvelous cove.
We had stolen their best things, I swear this, by jove!
But on this trip these young ones ruined everything by being loud.
We barely escaped with your lives from the hostile island crowd.
Lake Superior, Gitche Gumee
November winds, fear starts boiling.
The ship creaks, groans, twists, water spumy;
Thoughts of loved ones waiting on shore pushed aside.
Evil eye of the storm is coiling
And springs to release twenty-nine souls into the debris.
The church bell twenty-nine times is tolling.
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