When we were Pirates

Remember when we were Pirates?


You swung a cutlass, and I cried ‘Yaarrrrr’

At the tide and the swelling sea.

You looked me in the eye,

(the good eye, the one without the patch on it)

And said ‘I suppose it’ll be hard tack for supper again’

And we laughed.


We buried treasure on the island,

and promptly forgot where,

leaving fifteen dead men to guard it.

I want to know where it is now, though, when I need it.

Things matter now that didn’t then, when we were pirates.


On the deck you said to me,

‘Yaaarrr, isn’t this a beautiful sunset.’

It looked the same as every other sunset.

I wish I’d have paid more attention now.


We drank rum in ports,

And chased women and dreams

The women now faded, the dreams more so.

Washed up in the tides and the swell.


They didn’t know whether to hang us or give us medals then,

We sailed in and out of ports with no repercussion

Most of those ports have long since closed down

The medals have tarnished, the nooses frayed.


God what I’d give for a cannonball right now.


Please don’t be upset, but I always hated your parrot.

It didn’t fly off like I said.

It’s at the bottom of the ocean.


I spend these days telling stories about those days.

The pirate days.  They say I have a twinkle in my eye–

(the good eye, the one without the patch on it)

–when I speak of it, but my voice is barnacles and rust, iron gone to rot.


I hear your new crew is stalwart and lusty,

shouts louder than we ever did.

They say you’ve got shanties written about you,

And your name brings dread to all that hear it.


Marks the spot

Of those days we  buried long ago.

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Filed under Poemetry

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