For hundreds of years
They've plied the warm coasts
Of the southern isles,
Seeking the riches
Of a bygone era,
Practicing
Their savage democracy
As they sail
From fogbank
To fogbank,
Their bare feet
Never touching the land.
Ghostly winds
Fill their sails
Yet their ships
Leave no wake,
And on moonless nights
Many a mariner
Has heard
The ethereal shouts
Of haunted men
And the clanging bells
Of aged ships
That are not there.
"...of aged ships that are not there..." Dear Becca, you haven't seen the Pirates Brothers Ed, they are still around and looking for more innocents maidens...have an extra bolt on your door, it will make you with more peace of mind, but the brothers will come in by one of your windows! ! ! (look under you bed...if you dare!)
Ed the Elder, Buccaneer Extraordinaire.
Reviewed by Chantilly Lace (Reader)
Reviewed on March 16, 2009
Wowww..this is excellent writing sweet lady..well done indeed...have a wonderful and safe day...Hugsssssssss
Ooooohhhhhhhh this one is good. If I hear shouting men and the clanging of swords, I'm hiding under the covers! This would make a good ghost story, Rebecca, well done (and shiver me timbers, arrr).
Dear readers, this is my third book of poems, and inside are a special collection of what have turned out to be not only MY personal favorites, but also the favorites of many of YOU. Some of these have never been available in print before...
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Ed the Elder, Buccaneer Extraordinaire.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.