Solitary seafarer sings sea chanties,
salty sea breeze serenity,
sea birds skim waves,
suddenly, so many sailors' souls
of the sunken WW II ship USS Indianapolis
started singing sonorous,
soaring from sea sepulcher,
stirring sacrifice so sacred,
such sorrow,
souls still scintillating, still seaward,
servicemen shipmates solemnized,
seared, sealed in spiritual solidarity,
salute. ~
Serene sunset, star studded sky, seamen setting sail,
Sixteen salty sailors, surveying southern seas,
Singing somewhat spicily, saucy sea shanties.
Sea sirens serenading, seductively sedates,
Sailors sleeping senselessly, soon sacrifice shipmates.
Shipwrecked sailors swimming, seeking sandy shores.
Spiral sea shells strident sounds, staccato semaphores.
Steering south, steel steamships, start searching stormy seas,
Searchlights, sirens, struggling, serendipity succeeds.
Soul - searching self survivors, salute salvation's sanctuary.
10 / 11 / 2024.
Wind filled sails drives his command,
A salty breeze chisels his face.
The crew obeys his every demand,
Master of the sea stands in his place.
Sailing South to all virgin lands,
Heading's true and steering straight.
Ship is cradled in starlit hands,
With fertile dreams at Heaven's gate.
No tempest will dissuade his course,
A swashbuckler oh so bold.
Guided by unnatural force,
To fill his coffers full of gold.
All deckhands will now prepare,
Adventure on the open seas.
While searching for islands fair,
Perchance to do as they please.
Lookouts spy a distant ship,
Crew stands firm to do their duty.
Now with sword strapped to the hip,
A plan to seize pirate's booty.
Alongside black sail moving fast,
All fall silent as cannons roar.
A fatal shot strikes the mast,
Skull and crossbones sail no more.
With victory that tastes so sweet,
On their way to a lavish coast.
Tahitian beauties soon to meet,
The part that they all love the most.
Rum filled shipmates sigh relief,
Back to sea no more to roam.
With gold and jewels beyond belief,
This Captain steers a course back home.
In a town down in Texas,
Lived a man in a tree.
He used to be a Sailor,
And spent his life at sea.
After twelve years of service,
His fate cruely got him.
When sailing around the Horn,
His ship went to the bottom.
The papers called it tragic,
The death of so many men.
And as the lone survivor,
Swore he'd never sail again.
Then he moved to Santa Fe,
Built a cabin in an Elm.
Said goodbye to the water,
And that tree became his realm.
For twenty years he lived there,
But not a friend did he make.
How ironic when a twister,
Dropped his cabin in a lake.
Though he drowned that very day,
You know Heaven wouldn't cheat him.
When he reached the Pearly Gates,
All his shipmates there to greet him.
I race toward my workspace, now battle station
Code Zebra, ASAP, batten down the hatches!
Ka-boom! Boom! Boom! A trance-like sensation
Shipmates scramble for smokes and matches
Ray, Dale, and Russ don’t show
I think: run, jump; if you die, die free
Not trapped and sealed in steel below
Not buried alive like me!
Kaboom! Overhead bolts shoot from the seams
Above is a warm Hawaiian autumn
I’m weak as blood from my neck streams
Where am I now? Of course, I remember
It’s noon, I have a date with a girl on the beach
She’s eighteen and a bit silly, like me
What a gorgeous sight, she’s now within reach
I’m so happy and complete, so free
7/12/22
Tears Of A Valiant Soldier Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Faraz Ajmal
Above a great big sea of blue,
I saw a dragon, and he flew
while breathing fire into the air.
He saw our ship, and this I swear:
with claws he broke our ship in two.
How sharp those claws! How mean was he!
My shipmates fell into the sea.
How awful were their frightful screams.
I hear them still inside bad dreams
and see them drowning in debris.
From Hell I think that monster came.
I watched our sinking ship – aflame.
But luckily I never drowned.
I drifted till a beach I found.
The lone survivor I became.
Like Robinson Crusoe was I.
To stay alive I aimed to try.
For days, for weeks, then months and years
till I had used up all my tears,
I truly thought alone I’d die.
But oh, my goodness, one sweet day
a friendly dolphin came my way.
Upon his back he let me ride.
Dear friends, the good Lord DOES provide
though five long years I’d had to stay!
I’d prayed and prayed, and now I’m well,
back home and with this tale to tell.
Although I’m saved and so relieved,
my tale by no one is believed.
I hope that dragon’s back in Hell!
July 3, 2022
For Tall Tales 3: Quintilla Fantasy Fiction Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Jeff Kyser
Once knew a jolly old pirate named Sid
Robbed from the rich and kept it he did
The old rhyme is wrong, Sid was a jerk
He'd push old ladies down in the dirt
Heard that his childhood was really quite sad
Not only that, his breath was quite bad
His shipmates wondered, was Sid really happy
He always seemed strange and really sappy
Perhaps in childhood all the girlies made fun
Had backup lights on his extra large bum
Sid was quite sensitive so in later years
He wore a long coat to cover up his rear
One night his pirate ship lost all it's power
Sid to the rescue, his bum shone for hours
So ever since then, he's a proud son of a gun
An old pirate's tale bout Sidney's Big Bum
How high their ship…she’s sitting on the waves.
Bob-stopped at top of ferris wheel. Their might,
a flood about their feet - they dare not breathe.
The teeter-tottering might sink them quick.
Her formerly unbalanced stance, so drunk.
The utter-wave that drives her down and up.
The shipmates think of home and more so then.
Ship ascends Everest to bump the sky.
What hell! What depths! The slide at breakneck speed.
The fear! Except the Lord does intercede…
The tears they weep on their way down. The begs
begin, to promise God all sorts of things.
Their promises are seated on the peak.
And will they speak of them again? Will death
or life relieve their fears? Forgotten deals -
vows read as each one stands before the King.
5/31/2022
Listen, my shipmates and you shall hear
A tale of adventure and a sea career.
I shall never forget that cold clear day
When I left the shore of ‘Gansett Bay.
The sight of my ship was one of joy
As she lay tethered to a mooring buoy
And on her bows her numbers clear
Ever more grand as our boat drew near.
I had barely stowed my gear away
When the boatswain’s pipe began to play.
‘Now go to your stations, the sea detail.’
My ship and I were about to sail.
And so began my maiden trip
In my new home, this long gray ship.
Then later, as a a gunner’s mate
In charge of a five-inch-thirty-eight.
How often we were flung about
In our greyhound out at sea
As our dripping forefoot rose and fell
But nowhere could we flee.
Now three decades worth of sea
Has passed beneath my keel
Not all those years were filled with glee
But most were passed with zeal.
My shipmates - now with Davy Jones
And soon I’ll join that crew,
And we’ll all dance on Fiddler’s Green.
On watch, awaiting you.
So the word is out
In most of the Pacific places
Captain Cook sailed to on his voyages
Local laws and customs were broken
And he was lucky to not be killed
For these offences by the local people
But he was a great navigator who knew
Where he was on the planet
At all times in his voyages
When his luck ran out on Hawaii
When the natives killed him in a property dispute
And his men had to leave his body
The natives took his body
And boiled it down for his bones
But they returned his hands and his buttocks
To his shipmates to honour him
So what was left of Cook was buried at sea
As was fitting for the great sailor and navigator that he was.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Masters of theft
Morally retarded
With devious stealing methods
For people, today they steal
From them, tomorrow they steal
Skewing the popular concept of morality
The execuTHIEVES among rodents
Leading players in series of shocking scandals
With gross misconducts running the gamut of vices
Devious financial dealings and embezzlements
Shall I compare thee to rats?
The societal rats in human clothing
Faithless shipmates, residents of trash heaps.
Even candidates for public offices
Stripped grain warehouses
Eaten entire field of tomatoes
And other vegetables
Waves of tree climbing rats
Have stormed orange groves
And devoured the fruit
Roof rats have descended after the dark
To nip at sleeping children and adults
The then 'holy' one,
So easily stoop to thievery.
Wallowing in wanton moral filths
Manifestoes are less important
You only appear to take a satanic
And moronic relish in splashing thy vulgarities
Into the face of the public
Unless thou anchor thy knowledge to moral foundation,
The ultimate result will be dust and ashes.
Dust and ashes that will bury the hopes
And monuments of men beyond recovery
Once knew a jolly old pirate named Sid
Robbed from the rich and kept it he did
The old rhyme is wrong, Sid was a jerk
He'd push old ladies down in the dirt
Heard that his childhood was really quite sad
Not only that, his breath was quite bad
His shipmates wondered, was Sid really happy
He always seemed strange and really sappy
Perhaps in childhood all the girlies made fun
Had backup lights on his extra large bum
Sid was quite sensitive so in later years
He wore a long coat to cover up his rear
One night his pirate ship lost all it's power
Sid to the rescue, his bum shone for hours
So ever since then, he's a proud son of a gun
An old pirate's tale bout Sidney's big bum
© Jack Ellison 2015
Water wives live sheltered lives
Amongst the coves where pirates rove
Daily catch is makers match
Where red hot stoves hide fresh baked loaves
Water men are thick and thin
So often strove where shipmates hove
Water child is often wild
The treasure trove where pirates roved
19Mar14
The sea churned heavy in the wake of rolling,ripping thunder.
As rain cascaded from the skies the vessel was pulled under.
The winds were shrieking as the sailors ran to clutch the sails.
Into the night could now be heard those far off deathly wails.
Another man went over every time the dark sea burned.
When suddenly there was a light just where the storm had turned.
Within the light is where these beautiful creatures now emerged.
Half woman and half fish they swam right where the waters surged.
The men were frightened yet enthralled by their amazing beauty.
As one by one they lost their heads forgotten was their duty.
The creatures wrapped the men within their long and tangled hair.
And slowly every sailor was drawn into their seaweed lair.
As the storm raged on the creatures took the men below
to their deep home within the tides and this much we do know.
The shipmates never were seen again-they called them lost at sea.
But the creatures say they took the men so they could set them free.
for contest "Fantasy"
I'm squirming in my chair of oak
with narrow arms, and folks lined up
in two long rows of growing thirst
and hunger for a breath of air
Like sardines in a can of worms
we are strange, unlikely shipmates torn
between one salesman's limped plea --
the other shark who disagrees
Gray flannel suit, the stiff white shirt
with slicked down hair, accusing words
persuading few with his hot air
The black suit spews his declaration
a quite contrary explanation
Until my mind is torn in two
and in a room we must decide
Confined inside, a dozen votes
where six say yay, six more say nope
We're hanging by a thread for days
and rumor spreads, with dreadful words
He has finally coped with deadlocked folks
But sternly looks a bit provoked
We sit there like a row of stones
of wounded souls. We are excused!
We grope for keys, and leave our thrones
And as I'm walking out the door
No longer needed any more
I see the face of one accused
Then count the blessings in my life
and take a breath of freedom's air
So glad to know some welcome arms
are waiting there, at home
_____________________________________________
"Person"
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