The Sea Witch meets democracy

Well, me mateys, we be changing

how we elect our captain

of the Sea Witch, the bane

of the Spanish Main

we have some rules now,

on how to behave now,

among our pirate brethren

and among our prey

            put the sword down

            fool, or I’ll use it

            to slice a smile, permanent

            on your ugly mug

as I was saying

we have new rules,

pass the rum, you blighter,

I need a swig.

You elect your representatives,

the pirates of council,

nicely, now, without killing,

or maiming, or slicing an arm

of a leg or two,

and I appoint a few worthies

as super-pirates of council

            well, yes, an ear or finger

            might be permissible

and they come together

to meet in session,

a session of pirates,

to elect the captain

of this fine ship of state,

our Sea Witch.

We do it proper, now,

with votes, beating our swords

into oars, but I should mention

the captain retains a veto

on who walks the plank

and how the shares divide

but that’s only right and fit

            and if you don’t agree

            I’ll veto your head

            with a sword right here

            and now

we be democratic now,

we vote proper now,

and the Sea Witch

will never be the same

now.

Tweetspeak has a poetry prompt this week, and it’s about prates and codes of conduct. If you were hiring pirates, what would your expectations and rules of conduct be? To see what others had to say, please visit Tweetspeak Poetry.

Photograph by Linnaea Mallette via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

Where have all the pirates gone?

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.