Ye scoundrel.
An abecedarian poem
Aye, yer still a treach'rous rake,
brave in yer swashbucklin' ways, a
criminal, cravin' still the
delicious ache o' romance–
embers of a bygone blaze, the faint
fragrance of a yesterday, the
Glimmer o' the morrow.
Here – my hero's heart for ye, and
In it, growin' ardor.
Joined, us, on this windless eve,
kindred in our longin' –
lamplit skin and tangled limbs,
moored in misty harbor, no
northern star to follow–
only an endless sheen o' water;
primitive, the thirst for touch,
quenchless when it's hollow.
Raise yer flag and sheath yer sword;
surrender all yer cities.
Tally up the gone, the good;
unhand yer shinies and yer pretties.
Verily, ye drew a map
with fingertips on linen:
X is where the riches were, but I came back,
ye lyin' rat, and there's
zero gold where I be diggin'.
Comments (3)
I did read it as a pirate in my head. Really enjoyable. ❤️
Love pirate stories
For maximum enjoyment, read aloud, like a pirate. Arr.