|
Details |
David Welch Poem
Her beautiful eyes closed forever
The angel sleeps no harm to weather
Frozen in time under glass
Her cold tears trapped in the past
The demon that brought her guards the door
Of the angels keep in the streets of the poor
Her blonde hair and wings are raised and flared
The expression on her face is calm not scared
The demon murderd her quick and painless
In his depression mad and aimless
She would have remained alive
All she had to say was hi
He adored here every movement
She ignored and made her judgement
He tried to speak and joke around
She rolled her eyes and shut him down
He grew angry and mad one night
He froze her body in a block of ice
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
David Welch Poem
Red Beard laughed at this lad
Stumbled on the wrong ship he had
Stowing away on a pirate vessel
Turned himself in not even a wrestle
Stout young lad must be at least ten
He wasn’t sure of the trouble he was in
To the plank cast him aside!
Then the boys knees buckled….he cried
Red Beard yanked him up and stared deep
Some use of this boy, if I want to keep
To the crew or to the sea? Red Beard thought
A pupil to over see if well taught
“Take him below!” are his orders
“Food and water in my quarters”
The boy moved quickly at the thought of food
Take his mind off of his saddened mood
A feast laid before his weary eyes
Hot bread and large chicken thighs
Warm milk and cool fresh water too was in store
He ate and ate till he couldn’t anymore
It was eve before the Captain appeared
The boy was asleep his mind without fear.
Into his arms the boy went
Carried to the cot for his rent
An orphan too, was this pirate knave
Maybe this child he could save
Schooling was what first struck his mind
A great teacher was hard to find
Sailing and piracy was all he knew
“I want more for this lad. A start anew.”
…..A rapping came to the cabin door
Urgent business he had to make sure
“What is it?” Bellowed a voice
“A British flag and jack a hoist!”
A war galleon was on the horizon
A battle was on the rising
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2007
|
Details |
David Welch Poem
The noose is a nightmare for any seafaring man
Especially those who thrive the best they can
Danger lurks on the waves like a mugger in the shadows
The only concern is the prize and the gallows
For the young pressed into service have two labors
Cabin boy or powder monkey are their favors
A fair share for those who survived
Though not to many lived to enjoy the ride
Mostly master gunners would employ the young ones
For the task of loader and powder runs
A grizzly sight to any mother of today
Blood spattered, powder covered, limbs severed portray
I dare say I met one intact and conscious
He was rude and quite audacious
No name had he just an X above the knee
His mark given by Captain of the Breeze
A sloop of war in Caribbean was this
Massacred whole crews drunk as piss
The boys attitude so moved my heart
That I had to set him free from his part
Before I saw him he was the only one left to be hanged
Port Royals mob clawed and fanged
I set to watch when I saw how young he was
I had to do something for his cause
I bid the court give me custody immediately
They awaited the response from the Admiralty
The response was yes almost to late
For the executioner just removed the safety plank
He kicked and cried for a moment then released
With the knife of the kings lease
A bruise found its way around his neck as a reminder
For a life against the grinder
I sailed him back to London to learn a trade
And go to school for a decade
I later named him after my name kidd
Later to be known as William Kidd
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
David Welch Poem
I am not the girl for you,
I will destroy you, she promises.
Man undettered waits for perfection
To get her head straight, but too late
She still doesn’t find you appealing
So stop squealling about her disgust
For you and play a russian
Roulette of dating big city dames. again
You will find that special someone who
Suprises you like Molotov coctails spew
Flames over broken heart. Shame
She can’t turn and yearn for you,
tomorrow, maybe baby, but today
Stay away.
This happens so save it don’t pray
It will be a happy ending
Spending days under rays
of glazed eyes her feelings ice
your thirst becomes worst but
Fine wine and her cuisine yet tasted
Sweetly your energy well wasted
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
David Welch Poem
A masquerade ball was in full concert when
A charming young man stepped in
He bore a green tunic with gold trim
Mask devilish with a wry grin
His mask bore five feathers atop his brow
In full view of the whole of the crowd
The music stopped and no servant bore his name
No mark of royalty or note of fame
Who is this man whispers a girl
A mystery man, man of the world
His eyes a radiant green breaching the mask
The music starts with a nod no questions asked
His manner quite and shy though confident
Both hands resting behind his torso defiant
Utterly refusing any hand placed before him
A mission is what makes him grim
One girl and only one is his treasured fox
She is sitting at a table near the clocks
A common girl young enough for school
A starving pain runs through him almost cruel
A slow melody is played by the maestro
The gentleman gaze at him to and fro
A hand his placed before her tired eyes
Shear delightful sounds as she cries
An angry man in a red mask stalks toward them
When an older woman steps in front of him
“Let them go” She says
“Why should I” eyes furiously red
To the center of the dancing floor they stroll
The beat picks up with a flick from maestro
Soft beats sound as they come together
Then silence…..weightless like a feather
A dazzling dance wows the place
Enough so to put awe on each face
After the last step and last beat coincide
Their masks come up no more reason to hide
Their lips meet and cheers break out
Like those at a fight awaiting the bout
The commotion was too much for the old man
He stumbled forward to greet the brigand
A chase commenced with the house guards
Even some of the house bards
The Youngman fell and was detained quickly
Then a sound arose from the courtyard sickly
The sound of a sword piercing flesh
A pool of blood and a mess
Unveiling his mask bore only a lad
At this the old man felt sad
The young girl never knew what became of him
Her father detailed his absence to be of a decided whim
In reality he survived after his body was left for dead
A long fever and a month in bed
A preacher picked him up and healed his impaled breast
With medicine and well needed rest
He awoke later to a dream of his lady fair
When he smelt the perfume of roses in the air
A second chance the preacher stated
Yes it was not to be he debated
Now he is an old man sitting and writing this tale
Letting my grandson know not to bail
For I will leave it in my will for his eyes only!
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
David Welch Poem
It is not hard to fall in love with a beautiful apparition. You don’t know them, but are easily
entranced by their chemistry. Your brain ignites a myriad of sensual wishes. Carnal exploration
and fantasies played out in seconds, heating your heart like an oven. They disappear as quickly,
a wisp of smoke, but you miss them immensely. A hallow feeling leaves you weak, sad, and
alone stretching for minutes, days, or years till the next one steals your heart. Man or woman,
boy or girl can manifest and escape around corners and be gone, but in the moment you had
them for eternity. The Petrarchan romance you read lives in their dance and laughter. No one
goes without this fictitious ache; it follows you as your shadow does, comes to life as often.
Looking serene a placid lake reveals a reverse world where everything is as real as the earth
you tread, as vivid as those memories you hang on walls. Veiled in disbelief as a mere image
those waters taunt you with their likeness. The ghosts you long for are down there, but there
they know you as the beautiful apparition
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
David Welch Poem
Life without you couldn't be right.
No hugging, kissing, or pillow talk at night.
Life without you just wouldn't be fair,
I'd have all these feelings too good to spare.
Life without you would be kind of lame,
Things would be dry and always the same.
Life without you is a horrible lie,
I'd probably break down and have to cry.
Life without you can't really be
For I would be very painful and insane to me.
Life without you is a bad dream,
You and I are one, the most formidable team.
Life without you.
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2007
|
Details |
David Welch Poem
Blood and sweat turns popper to king
Bruises and scars tend to sting
Battles and showdowns trouble will bring
In the life of a warrior
Training is apart of what it takes
For to win allows few mistakes
Choosing your fights, decide the stakes
In the life of a warrior
Knowing weapons and all the tricks
Doesn’t always dodge heavy licks
Though it is a way to find a fix
In the life of a warrior
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
David Welch Poem
As the seas carry my cargo and I to different shores I wait,
Waiting for someone to release me from my burden.
Days drift by listless in the ambience of light and dark returning,
The skies change from blue to a Smokey gray overhead.
Waves crash against me, water engulfs me, but I maintain integrity.
A myriad of hulls splash by, pushing me aside.
Why, my cargo is precious and weighs lightly?
Passengers slowly cling to me, barnacles and algae hide my glow.
Woe seeps into my gleam as I lay on my side,
If only a rest on a shore or on a deck to ease my ever weakening self.
Like a mother my burden is protected until birth,
Though with the birth goes my death, like that of my brothers.
Fear creeps in that I might break under extreme elements.
The stars change and drift as I do in a sea of black, they too must be like me
Waiting for the chance to relieve our burdens.
The sands come closer and closer, sometimes scraping against my body.
One day I will be found, hands will grasp, and carry me home.
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2008
|
Details |
David Welch Poem
More than a vacation, a vocation
In the field of tranquility you
Search the Caribbean blue
Sensation or mental refuge
White sandy beaches wet
Peaches in drinks collect
Making the experience perfectly
Sweet, worthy as a bodily
Treat. Club nights, escapes
In lantern light vases
Erases memories of work
And the Jerk in Apartment
24B. you are lovely, true
Disconnection from Kansas
Dorothy, pitchfork my ass!
And to heck with Toto too, I like cats,
Bat-monkey bellhops serving champagne
On balcony restaurants under starry
Safari-scene coca bean cabanas.
Your hammock sways, snapping
Shirt stays as rays of sunlight brook
Your book and cook toes
That glow from wearing
Black shoes. No swearing,
Sweating, connecting flights
To sit here and there, eating
On the go in slow traffic, lights
And horns blearing in through
Hotel windows. Without AC
You see a sea on your desk
In your messed up cluster
Schmuck of yucky tapestry
Adorning cubical rat
Mazes. In code and number
Each node and blunder, busses
Screeching breaks on lakes
Of concrete. meat sickles
Tickle the fancy of Metro
Nancy’s claiming amnesty
From male mannerisms
As aneurisms claim hardy
Workaholic espresso toting
Suits late for some meeting.
Welcome to Pleasure Island
Were your wildest dreams
Are you, making love to
Models, crack dealing to stay
Away from the hustle, bustle, bubble
Muscle-man tan left sleeve down world.
Colors brilliantly hue the rising
Set down let down, it all really is
A biz of romance looking askance
At boom box beats from street
Thugs in Timberland boots
That choose to use time
As a crime enterprise
Of lies. But you aren’t there
You’re there in bikini underwear
On the water in your Caribbean
You picture frame from a last
Trip that wasn’t drug induced :)
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2010
|
|