Poem -

When Last Seen She Was Holding on Tightly

this may be a little naughtycal perhaps, but its meant to be both salty and fun ..

                                                                    When last seen, she was clutching
                                                                                         a long thin
                                                                    strip of navy blue velvet and near
                                                                                       bent double,
                                                                     somewhere near to the grasp of
                                                                                        her middle ..
                                                                   And in so doing, she thus, allowed
                                                                                         the hem
                                                                   of her slip, to go on public display ..
                                                                                        Oh’ come
                                                                and sail with us, the sailors did sing ..
                                                                               Yes come, see how
                                                                she swings like a brassed pendulum
                                                                                        sways ..
                                                              When last she was seen, she was seen
                                                                                      holding a
                                                               bottle green velvet, measure of satin ..
                                                                                   Fit for a lady,
                                                             or queen even, so fine a piece of cloth
                                                                                   it then was ..
                                                             Yet still, she was creased close to the
                                                                            weave of her middle ..
                                                                And in so being, allowed the hem
                                                                                   of her fine
                                                            cotton camisole to splay far too near
                                                                                a torn seam,
                                                             somewhere down near the midline ..
                                                                               And all of them
                                                           sailors did roar, come and play with us ..
                                                                                    This gall
                                                          she can pitch, like a galleon might pitch
                                                                                  in a raging
                                                         south westerly squall and when last she
                                                                                  was seen,
                                                       she was holding a new babe in both arms
                                                                               all wrapped in a
                                                        dirty, cream coloured silk shawl and both
                                                                     appeared to be starving ..
                                                      And still the sailors did sing, come and play
                                                                                with us lass,
                                                      we shall make it alright, come the morning ..

 

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Comments

author
Being Me

Ohhhh....I absolutely love this! This is awesome work! You have created a masterpiece. I can see the story unfold as I read. I can feel the spray of the sea. I feel sorry for that poor girl. This really is a brilliant, brilliant poem x

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author
Neville

You probably have no idea how much I appreciate your kind words and encouragement, nor what they mean to this old fella thank you bigly and true xx

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