Thursday, November 03, 2016

Scrutiny On The Bounty



Scrutiny On The Bounty
                                                                            a swish
                                                         a ruffle
      an arm
         over another arm
            a hand
              soft fingers
                   searching
      lips
             somewhere
                   searching
  then a scent
not sweet like lavender
      earthy damp musky
      elixir of

"Sorry, I hate to interrupt, but what are you doing?"

"I'm writing a poem, or at least trying to write a poem."

"Yes, I see that, but you promised you were going to write a sea shanty."

"I did?"

"Yes, look at the photograph up there. See? Ship! Sea!"

"I've never written a sea shanty."

"Yes, I know. Always a first time. And you did promise."

"I'm not sure I know how."

"Oh, pffftttt ... you can write anything."

"I'm not sure how a sea shanty goes."

"It's like a working chant. Seamen used shanties to make the time go by when they were hard at work on a ship."

"I see."

"So? Let 'er rip!"

"How would you like me to start?"

"Start with the wind in the sails sorta thing."

"OK."

a swish
a ruffle
slap of air
startle and moan

"Oh, the lines are too short, and there's supposed to be a refrain. You know, like a chorus."

"Oh?"

"Yes, it's a song, you know."

"I didn't know. Sorry."

"It's OK, just make the lines longer and put in a chorus."

"Longer?"

"Yes, longer. More words."

"OK."

Under the swish and ruffle I hear them moan
Slapped by a torrent of reckless air
Caught in a storm all alone
Sailing where none would ever dare.
With a hey and a ho, we sail the seas,
To find the riches of the Japanese.

"Uh, I'm not sure you can use Japanese. Sounds a bit racial, you know, sort of prejudiced."

"But I needed a rhyme."

"Yes, well, no Japanese."

"Portuguese?"

"No."

"Cantonese?"

"Uh uh."

"Congolese?"

"Nope. Find a word that doesn't involve a race of people."

"OK."

By swish and ruffle, moan by moan
Slapped by torrents of reckless air,
Caught in a storm so all alone,
Sailing where none would ever dare.
With a hey and a ho, we sail the sea,
To find sweet riches wherever they be ...


"Oh, that's good. Yes, good. Keep going."

"You like it? I had to change ..."

"Yes, I know. Start again."

By swish and ruffle, moan by moan
Slapped by torrents of reckless air,
Caught in a storm so all alone,
Sailing where none would ever dare.
With a hey and a ho, we sail the sea,
To find sweet riches wherever they be ...

The moon floats high above the mast,
As the stars blink out, one by one,
The fury of God comes hard and fast,
To crush us before the night is done.
With a hey and a ho, we sail the sea,
To find sweet riches wherever they be ...

Until the dawning cracks the sky,
We fight for life all together,
Until the sun breaks by and by,
We must endure all kinds of weather.
With a hey and a ho, we sail the sea,
To find sweet riches wherever they be ...

And then at last, the storm relents,
The sea becomes as smooth as glass,
But suddenly a turn of events,
Finds Old Charlie with an oar up his ass.
With a hey and a ho, we sail the sea,
To find sweet riches wherever they be ...

"There. How's that?"

"Well, the last line is, uh, a bit odd."

"I wasn't sure how to finish it."

"Yes, but I don't think Old Charlie will thank you."

"Well, it's kind of a story, and every story has a victim."

"I see. Well ..."

"Yes?"

"Perhaps you should stick to love poetry."

"No more shanties?"

"No, only shanties in ladies' panties ..."



 







 








 
 


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