Poetry

                   Black Beard (first draft)

I am an English Pirate
I wonder how my life would be if I weren’t a pirate
I hear the sails in the wind
I see my crew tying buntlines
I want to sail the Caribbean
I am an English Pirate

 

I pretend to sail the Queen Anne’s Revenge
I feel the ocean mist hitting my face
I touch the steering wheel
I worry about my crew
I cry at the loss of the Queen Anne
I am an English Pirate

I understand the Jolly Roger
I say “dance the hempen jig”
I dream about plunder
I try to be a good citizen in Bathe Towne
I hope to return to a brig
I am an English Pirate

I am Blackbeard (second draft)

I am greedy and shameless
I wonder who will be next lubber to look in me cold loaded barrel
I hear the wailing of victims past
I see my callous crew collect me prizes from helpless ships, ah the rum!
I yearn for more rum and jewels
I am greedy and shameless

I pretend belay that Royal Navy and feed them all to the sharks
I feel no remorse for the damage I have done, the loose cannons are gone
I brush my hands through my beard as I braid in the smokey fuses
I worry that I will not be remembered as a venomous pirate
I cry? ha! Me prisoners cry, they wail! It’s music to me ears 
I am greedy and shameless

I understand there are those who are out for my head
I say “dance the hempen jig,”when torturing me prisoners
I dream about plunder and salamagundi, I can smell the cocoa in me dreams
I tried to be a good citizen in Bathe Towne but, the Atlantic was calling to me
I hope to return to a brig, and sail in the warm Carribean sun steady as she goes
I am greedy and shameless

 Ordinary Pictures

So Much Depends Upon
the sunlight
so that bright white
and yellow
daisies can sway in
the warm
flowing spring breeze.
- Allison Pendleton

 

                                             

   

 

 “A poem is not a puzzle to be solved. A poem is an experience,
an event, in and out of language.”
- Ann Lauterbach

 

 

 

                                                                                                           Barbeque

                                                                                                 Brown and tasty
And smells good too.
Rubbed and basted
By me and you.
 Every bite moist and sweet
Quite possibly the world’s tastiest treat.
Unique in flavor
 Everyone’s favorite to savor.

Aj and I were watching a really yummy show talking about good ole’ southern BBQ, so of course what was on my mind for this next poem? (1/31/2010)