.
•atop the mast billows
my wind-tossed rag•grinning skull embla-
zoned proud•the starkness of black upon my flag
•piercing the encroaching sea mist and shroud•her-
ald the sight of the jolly roger • instilling trepidation
in all who sail through my turf • fuelled by the thirst
to pillage and plunder•others before, have sunk into
graves beneath the surf•my salt encrusted timber
creaks                  a frightening low                growl•
my hull                      would pum-                    mel thro-
ugh the opposing waves•    my sails bloat full trapping
winds that howl•my      deck bears the screams
of a thousan-            d slaves•know
me, seafarers... i am no legend but
truth•avast! seafarers, i am the tale
that looms•believe me, seafarers for i
am ca-      pable        of all        things
•••                                                        •••
  uncouth                                                •fear me,
seafarers for                                            i am your
doom•you could                                sail the seas with
the world's most                    skillful of crew•
you cannot deny the
inevitable
heavy hand of fate•be-
cause once my vessel comes
within view                            •you would
know for certain                                that it's already
•••••••                                      •••••••
•••••                                            •••••
*too late•
Concrete Poem 17 of 30
Tap on the hashtag "30daysofconcrete" below to view more offerings in the series. :)
.