Drowning in a bag full of waterless tears,
My lungs screaming in protest,
As I feebly try to call out for help,
The corners of my vision are slowly slipping away,
As I fight to stay awake,
A part of my mind knowing it is useless,
Knowing the end was near,
I willingly close my eyes,
Giving in to the fate forced upon me,
Until his face fills my mind,
The memory of him surrounding me like a warm blanket,
So I struggle on,
Aching to see him one more time,
So I fight to stay alive,
Suffocating untl he fids me again.
" Pirate's Kids "
Pirates bein' such the noisy bunch~
'Twouldn't surprise me 'twere true my hunch~
Bein' o'course all Pirates once were kids~
So oft then were findin' better use fer fids~
Linin' ship's decks in such orderly a fashion~
Pots pans & buckets a'taken from the galley~
Kids o'those ships with fids would be thrashin'~
On these collections known then as trap alley~
Now in this day of technology supreme~
Kids o'the kids o'those kids are still seen~
Their decks may be a'ship or even in house~
Yet that fearsome noise still does all crew arouse~
Me now havin' found a great collection of traps~
Does so now imagine if'n a special kid mayhaps~
Who's a kid o'some sailor & so inclined to make noise~
Would he I wonder in such play find his joys~
Black as pearls Polynesian & of Pacific so deep~
'Tis now the color of these traps I then so do speak~
Aye's though a question must be mayhap set aside~
'Til a time when stars apart do no longer collide~
SeaWolf
©
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.