Quotes about pirate, page 13
Michael Crichton
Michael Crichton would be dismayed
to read about his pirate days.
Poor Michael, there is worse in store.
They plan to publish at least one more.
When living, Michael published much
and proved to have the Midas touch.
No matter, Michael, that you’re gone
Your bibliography still goes on.
When Authors pay the boatman’s fee
Their fans crave more, quite naturally.
No Shakespeare lover could refuse
To give “Cardenio” rave reviews.
And when Jim Croce breathed no more
He “sang” on for a decade more.
But stuff that Authors didn’t publish
could prove to be unworthy rubbish.
(And some that sees the light of day
Might have been better hid away)
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poem by John F. McCullagh
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Piss In The Face Of Destiny
Cloaked in disguises
In the alley of thieves,
I’m violently tested and seeking reprieves
From tortuous days
Of casual deceptions
And blatant lies,
But Luna and youth
Have disappeared
And I remain despised
By all the suits
And their well-paid alibis.
The loveliest women
Will spit in your eyes,
And the men I trust the most
Refuse to shave
And dress like rogues,
And my best friends
Are always broke
Looking for a lonely lady
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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His Stenographer
As he dictates to her
Does she love you?—well, I wonder—
Married twenty years, they say!
You, so bald and fat and funny,
Grubbing like a mole for money?
Guess she likes to spend the plunder—
Gee—she knows the way!
She's a grand one—Lord! what dresses!
Handsome too, proud as a queen—
With her doings in the papers,
Dinners, dances, all the capers,
Likes to lead the show, my guess is!
You're the gold machine!
If she knew you as I know you,
Would she spend it—say?
If she knew each trick and quibble—
Little fishes hooked that nibble,
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poem by Harriet Monroe
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I Dream Of Being With You
I dream of knowing your velvet kiss,
the soft warmth of your lips,
the delicious drink of carnal bliss
that pours from your fingertips.
I dream of a pirate ship in the harbor
with its prow and glistening stern.
I dream of moonlight in the arbor
with songs of quixotic nocturne.
I dream of pearl-drippings on the bed,
the fragrant breeze of night.
I dream of roses of cherry red
that rise in scarlet delight.
I dream of a pulsing palisade
with beads of tiny flowers.
I dream of meadows dressed in jade,
collapsing sighs and showers.
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poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell
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The Fathers
Traditionally, the same actor plays Captain Hook
and Mr. Darling.
-- The Picture Book of Peter Pan (c. 1930)
Something's familiar about that villain
striding the deck of the Jolly Roger, chest
puffed out under the fancy jabot --
a bit like, yes, like Father huffing around
before an evening out, proper shirtfront
outthrust by an important bay window.
Particular about his cuff links as a pirate
about lace at his wrists. Same air of dashing
yet dastardly middle age. A penchant
for issuing orders and threats, and tying
up uncooperative dogs or Indian princesses.
No wonder we sons and daughters laugh
when Hook sits on the hot toadstool
over Peter's chimney, when Tinker Bell
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poem by Elizabeth Holmes
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Treasure For Maureen
A midnight ship with silver sails
And hoisted flags with scarlet tails
Is whisked by winds of golden gales
Descending from the skies above.
And though the decks are wet and soaken,
Still the hull is swift and oaken
So the course remains unbroken,
Trailing wakes of turtledoves.
With storm departed, then no sooner
Comes, unseen, a pirate schooner
Neath the nighttime, light and lunar,
Pouncing with a push and shove.
Though hope seems lost, a cyclone saves
Dispersing foes and other knaves
With frothy foamy fisted waves
Which strike like leaden leather gloves.
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poem by Terry O'Leary
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The Floundering Ship
A great day sailing on the
floundering ship at the office,
Hanlie an elfish, mischievous
captain, June quietly at the helm,
Hermien swinging in the rigging
while I plotted a course through
the rapids of cascading words
spilling over my desk
Human Resources destabilised
the ship by throwing the compass
away yet we ploughed on, June
can't be deflected from steering
straight for the bay of organised
perfection while updating lists -
though Microsoft warns our
software is outlawed
Being illegal means we are a
pirate ship; now I understand why
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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To His Young Mistress
Fair flower of fifteen springs, that still
Art scarcely blossomed from the bud,
Yet hast such store of evil will,
A heart so full of hardihood,
Seeking to hide in friendly wise
The mischief of your mocking eyes.
If you have pity, child, give o’er;
Give back the heart you stole from me,
Pirate, setting so little store
On this your captive from Love’s sea,
Holding his misery for gain,
And making pleasure of his pain.
Another, not so fair of face,
But far more pitiful than you,
Would take my heart, if of his grace,
My heart would give her of Love’s due;
And she shall have it, since I find
That you are cruel and unkind.
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poem by Pierre Ronsard
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Princess and Unicorn
Seeing the princess outdoors
was an everyday occurrence
Everyone had heard of and seen
the daughter of the king
Spending time in the rose garden
was a regular recurrence
Enjoying the many different
roses in the spring
Seeing a unicorn would be a very
rare occasion
Everyone had heard of the
magnificent creature
Of beauty and of a magical
persuasion
Very few had ever seen one
only in imagination
The crew and pirate had just committed
a secret rose garden invasion
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poem by Rachel Nichols
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Fair Time
September sings a sonnet
To a May Queen in a Forest
She's fallen from her kingdom
Raped in perfect season
A werewolf and a butterfly
Welcome spring time's symphony
Siphon joy upon a wind song
And they carry me
Affronted sapphire flurries
From a time long passed
Whisper Latin to a mirror
Fogged with shame
I see the nymph alone
Rapping a drum, splendorous gold
The giants and the angels
Drunk on dusk's horizon
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poem by Gloria Valencourt
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