There are pelican prints on this map the suspicious sea captain said.
We all denied seeing a fowl using his desk, for we wanted our heads.
He had a cutlass and was not afraid to use it on any of us.
I know you know about Peter, he said. He’s an ornery cuss!
Peter the Pelican is actually trying to get us all to agree.
To overpower the captain and have a gay mutiny
We did not know what to do, so we lied through our teeth.
He did not believe some of us, we walked the plank and fell underneath.
Damning report points
finger red-faced rogues flee now
the witch-hunt begins!
NB This is a dark wry tale with hints of humour and irony about reports in general.
Perhaps a story about fraud or financial oversight.
Date created and submitted : January 13 th 2021
Contest : Senyru - Humorous Satirical or Dark Poetry
Sponsor : Tania Kitchin
Given no cause for our thoughts otherwise,
our trust in loved ones should be complete.
But sometimes habit forced changes arise.
Which force us to actions rather discreet.
Driving my wife’s car I parked on the street,
returning to find a long stemmed red rose,
placed lovingly, gently on the front seat
next to a rolled note tied with scarlet bows.
~//~
Expecting from my wife’s lover, sweet prose;
instead finding love words penned by my wife.
Ashamed of my thoughts as only God knows.
Promising never more throughout our life
to doubt such a love that has proven true.
To reclaim my own love and vows renew.
©07 Mar 2011 For Dr. Ram’s sonnet contest
This poem is complete fiction-CGH
Locked away, hurt inside
My heart aches again
With distrust I suspect
Would she do as I think?
Could she pain me as I've been before?
Knowing consequences, it'll wash away
With alcohol f any sort and color
These thoughts come to mind
As the music plays, my rage grows
This may be the time I've awaited
Time for hits and shots
Wipe away my suspicions I'll try
But to question her loyalty
Almost seems like the past
Yet again, with another, I dishonor
Is it me that I don;t trust?
Perhaps so for my violence will emerge
In a way to mutilate
The fallen on will be her
Nor I, I will stand
The unknowing will die
But for what cause?
Her mistake?
Death shall grace their face
And I will prove my word true