My Mistress the Sea

[Sherban Shabeel]

Here's an old school poem I wrote last year:

 

 

My Mistress the Sea

 

 

I am a Boy in Chains, enslav'd by a capricious Mistress -

Between the Legs I've been between, I love Her who can't be true to me:

The restless Sea who kisses sweetly and makes of me a Mockery.

Regardless of her Humour, the Sailor must be fearless.

 

She is not one to cherish Weakness, or reward the weeping Coward

Who cowers at her Endlessness, these are not Things which please Her Majesty.

Quiet Respect but firm Resolve will calm her Temper and her Fantasies,

And cause her to show Kindness to the Dreamer gazing starwards.

 

Looking port and starboard, I see Flocks of Gulls by God so loved

That they should leave the Shore in Flight, so light, so free,

That they should spend their Lives in such distinguished Company:

The Queen that feeds them and the deep blue King above.

 

Our Sloop, the beautiful Cawrala, is of Mothers the most Kind,

So, as we leave the Port of Spanish Town, all Soul onboard is easy,

Jamaica is a Paradise in May, the Weather's only breezy,

The broken Hearts I leave behind were never broken more than mine.

 

 

As we sail in search of Pyracy, our Tempers grow but hotter

Weeks go by without a Capture, it seems we search in vain.

To avoid a small Rebellion and unnecessary Slaughter,

I serve the Men fine Spirits from the finest Sugarcane.

 

At last, towards the End of our twenty-second Day at Sea,

The Mate announces that a Turtler has been spotted.

We hoist the Black Flag and wave our Weapons with Ferocity,

Striking Terror in their Hearts, we get everything we wanted.

 

Still, this is a modest Catch, and many ache for more.

One of the Boys becomes so greedy,

He slits his Brother's throat and throws the Body overboard

Taking all his Share, knowing he was just as needy.

 

Only the Morning after, do I find out from the Mate

We strap the Murderer to the Capstan and Lash him with the Cat,

But by now it is too late.

My Mistress is offended and will not give the Body back.

 

 

The Storm is soon upon us, Lord keep us from Her Fury;

We hope to live, but fear we'll perish in this Tuerie.

The Boatswain cries out, overwhelmed, as far as I can see,

There is no Resolution and futile is our Plea.

The Sloop is tossed about by this, our watery Cemetery -

A wall of Blackness rises at the Bow and rushes down on me.

I hear the Nothingness of the Abyss, the Wailing of my Bride-to-be,

My Mother crying softly 'Go no more to Sea'.

I am now one with my Beloved, her Depths embrace me tightly.

My Children's Faces disappear, as I drown ever so slightly.

[Chocolate and Honey]

Ma'shallah. Good poem.

[The_Siren]

LOL, Excellent bravo infact, bravo..you actually brought the sea to life. A very vivid picture you've painted and you truly have a way with words. Weldone and keep it up. (pats him on the pat)

[Sherban Shabeel]

thanks!

[General Duke]

Nice poem, keep it up..