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You Pour

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posted on May, 3 2018 @ 01:21 AM
I'm Drinking Rum

Once, I found a tattered paint,
"The Treasure of the Sail".
Hints around, but these it ain't,
successes un-avail.

Now the edge has gotten dark,
and time has come, to share.
A leger scribed, who finds the mark,
is only theirs to wear.

Here it lay, a pirate's map,
of minds, and many keys.
Yesterdays, and hidden traps,
a binding to the sea.

Changing shores and falling tides,
by starlight, the abyss.
Charted for where nothing hides,
its only promise, this...

"Dirt and sky defend a chest,
of dragonscale and bone.
Search the eye, and then the rest.
Her tale be in the stone."

--- cont. ---

Search we did, and spread among,
the loot, what lay ahead...
Keys, indeed, in many tongues,
of every story said.

This be where it fades a blur,
it draws a darker line.
The fist, what drew the blade, for sure,
and clawed the mark, were mine.

Leagues away, the lightning told,
the absence of a crew.
Drenching rain, and icy cold,
the islands far, and few.

Often, to the west, a gaze,
a drift, and then forget.
A spray, and to me wanting ways,
I'd take a look at it.

Meant for kings, or valued foe,
the fortune was the game.
Home they went, things could not go,
and more, from where it came.

Come along, or fall behind,
and wonder what awaits.
Hum the song, the call assigned.
There's rum in all the crates.

Share a pull, and slam a grail,
we'll toast forgotten things.
Fill it full, for now, with ale,
then trinkets of the kings.

--- cont. ---

posted on May, 3 2018 @ 07:27 PM
a reply to: lernmore

Love this!

posted on May, 5 2018 @ 12:06 AM
a reply to: KTemplar

Chapter one, a payment made,
accepted to be fair.
Could've run, but nay, ye' stayed,
kept just... sitting there.

Tred awake, a curse be owed,
we'll dive into it near.
Better sake, it's best ya knowed,
so guilt be ended here.

There's a truth what happens when,
the words begin to twist.
First, you swear, but always then,
you curse, and can't resist.

No, for naught, you've got a lust,
already under weigh...
Reasons most have got, un-just,
so, mostly, let em' lay.

Kick the plank, and cut the rope,
a day, to where it's hid.
Quick, she sank, but none could hope,
to stake the share ya' did.

--- cont. ---

posted on Oct, 31 2020 @ 07:31 PM

edit on 31-10-2020 by lernmore because: (no reason given)

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