The rigging creaked in pigeon croft
Beyond the ship a peerless blue
Becalmed, the Pirate and his crew.
Telescope to his eye, he spied
A tiny speck on ocean wide
An island beckoned, out of reach
A haze of palm trees, sandy beach.
The thought of water fresh and sweet
Of ripened fruits to pick and eat
Filled his mind; his hands gripped taut
As the winds picked up and caught
The flapping sails which swelled with pride
The lull gave way to choppy ride.
Land ahoy through splashing waves
Around them – many shallow graves...
Rough necked, sun-burnt, sharp yet gaunt
Girded with cutlasses to taunt
Any natives who might come their way,
They stepped ashore - bejewelled with spray!
(c) Poet in the woods 2015
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