Pirates, poetry, passion

School of Mutineers, Thieves, and Cutthroats

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Pirate Skulls And Crossbones Speak

Bled by wind, broke by sea,
can you hear the Corsairs sing
whispers from the mountains long
the waters sing their silent song
emanating from the hungry deep
pirate skulls and crossbones speak
with crafty tales and legends spun
blood orange moon and brimstone sun
coarse chafed lips and bucket breath
massive arms and heaving chests
short broad swords with ivory sleeves
knifes they clamp in blackened teeth
when they raid the helpless ships
rum and powder shot on their lips
climb and jump from yardarms strong
raze and kill like locust swarms
taking silk and golden coins
sackcloth shielding bulging loins
canons blast and rip apart
driftwood left to float and rot
on the boards survivors cling
Corsairs bold victorious sing.

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Libelous Methods

Hell bent on retracing paths to former glory
enterprising adventures await my return.
Lady, loquacious in your speech, my heart employs
libelous methods. My feelings deign to deserve
the approbation of your smile, a discreet glance,
attentions that hasten my date with the gallows.
Erstwhile in your embrace you are my deadly dance.
Shall I escort you to the Queen’s ball on the morrow?
Relinquishing to you my love, my life, perchance!


(From the archives of Captain Cur
A series of never published love letters
between the Captain and a Lady of Renown)

(Source: )

Filed under captain cur poetry love letters

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Songbook Of My Heart

Words of love that sing forever
fill the void that plagues my soul
in the kiss of first time lovers
linger sounds that form new worlds.

Those I loved who came before me,
those I love when I depart
I sing this present moment
from the songbook of my heart.

This world that does excite me;
this world that brings me pain,
the journeys that have taught me
and the journey that remains.

Lifetime the budding flower
dreams which make it grow
truth tills the soils richness
in the greening of my soul.

Filed under songbook of my heart captain cur poetry

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Picks of Love

With what picks of love 
must I deeply bore
seasoned heart, 
that has coldly closed the door
or
must I write you clever verse 
to untie your knotted heart
and kill off all the other moose 
to prove my antlers sharp.

Captain Cur

Picks of Love

With what picks of love
must I deeply bore
seasoned heart,
that has coldly closed the door
or
must I write you clever verse
to untie your knotted heart
and kill off all the other moose
to prove my antlers sharp.

Captain Cur

Filed under poetry captain cur picks of love

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Mighty Blue

Terse winds were full, fought hard the sails 
pure white as maiden gowns, 
the ship and sea in courtships dance 
no virgin pretense found. 
Rivulets of tears salt the cheeks 
when bride and bridesmaid sing 
upon the pillowed sunlit waves 
lie both the golden rings.

The wedding bell sounds loud and shrill, 
sea urchins line the aisle; 
shimmering guests surround our boat 
whales laugh and dolphins smile.
Flying fish create an arch 
our ship slow passing through, 
we cheer and raise our glasses high 
and toast the mighty blue.

At night the full moon resting low 
romancing sea and ship 
floating through reflective rays 
in her lover’s tender grip, 
skies of dark crimson hues 
unveil with celestial grace
the fingers of the bride’s caress
upon her bridegroom’s face.

Island prism’s infectious sands 
adorn her perfumed breast, 
within them the deep wealth of life 
the waters of her flesh; 
flowered leafs of pearled bouquets 
each tossed out blindlessly
promises of eternal love
vowed to the bridal sea.

Captain Cur

Mighty Blue

Terse winds were full, fought hard the sails
pure white as maiden gowns,
the ship and sea in courtships dance
no virgin pretense found.
Rivulets of tears salt the cheeks
when bride and bridesmaid sing
upon the pillowed sunlit waves
lie both the golden rings.

The wedding bell sounds loud and shrill,
sea urchins line the aisle;
shimmering guests surround our boat
whales laugh and dolphins smile.
Flying fish create an arch
our ship slow passing through,
we cheer and raise our glasses high
and toast the mighty blue.

At night the full moon resting low
romancing sea and ship
floating through reflective rays
in her lover’s tender grip,
skies of dark crimson hues
unveil with celestial grace
the fingers of the bride’s caress
upon her bridegroom’s face.

Island prism’s infectious sands
adorn her perfumed breast,
within them the deep wealth of life
the waters of her flesh;
flowered leafs of pearled bouquets
each tossed out blindlessly
promises of eternal love
vowed to the bridal sea.

Captain Cur

6 notes

Female Essence I Adore

Here forever her spirit’s glow
that trines the vestiges of grace
and burns throughout her largess soul
in the munificence of space.
Equating her aquiline form,
full exhortations of her sphere
above the mist and earthly storm
from her pearl light’s refracting tears;
beneath the shroud of her wan face
through the mystery of her orb
upon her evening scented taste
the female essence I adore.

Captain Cur

www.poemhunter.com/captain-cur/

Filed under captain cur female essence I adore poetry rhymecrime

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Kubla Khan, Mount of Pleasure

Naked Venus of desire
the Evening Star of man’s unrest
adorned in dreams of wanton fire
was charmed by Kubla Khan’s request
and sent this message East and West.
“Renowned craftsmen from afar
nursed on visions Khan has seen
instilled with constructs of the stars
shall build his pleasure dome’s decree.”

Buried stones of enormous girth
compressed and gardened by the earth
upon these stones his Kingly prize
Khan’s tall white structure will arise
with chiseled columns that shall breach
through balustrades that rise beneath,
amid the raging skies of blue
the center of the dome of pleasure
will twin the sun at the height of noon
and in the evening’s gemstone treasure
adorn the anklet of the moon.

Below in caverns hollowed by the waves
strange creatures in the darkness thrive;
they swim the sea with lidless eyes
with instincts soul map myriad caves
with black nocturnal sight,
creatures glow through endless night
and in their spine, each tiny spark
colors dance from drop to drop
florescent creatures lone delight
rejoicing in each speck of light.

But oh! the passageway that leads
suspended between the mountain and the gate
upon these terrible heights the clouds give siege
bright lightning strikes and thunder quakes,
and through this rite on charging steeds
Khan bequeaths his reign of dreams.

The archway at the precipice
vaults deep into the rock
and the force of the intermittent fountains
lifts their two bride stones to unlock
the entrance grate to the covered mountain
that is fed by the falling ice
where trickling streams fall fast and ever
melting in persuasive light
each drop sounding its harp-like measure
as the creatures sing in the sea of night.

The dome of the Mount of Pleasure
appears floating on the rays
supported by frozen fountains
of an ocean’s sunless waves.

Luminaries awoke to this new sight
a floating pleasure dome
on waves of ice!

Captain Cur

www.poemhunter.com/captain/cur/

Filed under captain cur poetry rhymecrime kubla khan mount of pleasure poem