Rockwarden Bay
beset by the steel
that tore away
at old navy keels
sat quiet the night
all went awry
when the lighthouse keep
lost his weather eye
Plum drunk on rum punch
and out for a stroll
while a ship passed the slip
and soon paid the toll
A queen on the sea
A beauty indeed
filled with them high born
filled by their greed
A bloodier scene
had not been known
until that massacre
in the rock-bottom foam
Hundreds and scores
and many odd more
laid down in the bay
and on bright red shores
(September 14th, 2017)
YOU ARE READING
Post Modern Mystic
PoetryPoetry fills a need of the human heart to express through the construction of artistic verse, the things that hide in its depths. This book of poetry is my attempt to reach those places and beyond. See if I do. Let me know if I reach you. This will...
