I went to
Penzance, expectant,
but found only
gift shops
and excursion
boats.
I stopped at
Neverland,
but the Captain
had retired,
the croc ran a
clock store,
and Peter was
selling insurance.
I sailed to the
Caribbean,
but Jack Sparrow
had left,
some said to
tend bar in Key West.
I flew to
Panama,
to seek Drake’s coffin
of lead,
but the birds of
the sea were silent.
And no sign of
Blackbeard’s head
by the Hampton
River, or Mary Read’s
and Anne Bonney’s
prison cells,
or Henry Morgan’s
plantation in Jamaica,
or William Kidd’s
three deaths by hanging.
Only the waves
of the sea,
only the smell
of salt in the air,
only faint
echoes of yo-ho-ho
by boys chanting on Halloween,
and not even a
bottle of rum.
Tweetspeak
Poetry’s has a poetry prompt this week – and it’s
about pirates. To see what others are saying and writing, please visit
the site.
Photograph by George Hodan via Public
Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
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