Oh, I remember back, when young -
the pirate tales from grandpa's tongue -
where peg-legged men with but one eye
had sought their treasures, chanced to die.
Now Captain Pirate had a hook
and he cared not from whom he took.
He boarded ships and stole their goods -
then hid his treasures in the woods.
And on the ship - he had some men -
who helped him rob now and again.
At times they partied and they drank. -
If one was rude, he'd walk the plank.
Now this old pirate wasn't fair -
and got so drunk he didn't care.
It didn't matter who he killed -
just so his humor was fulfilled.
A wee bit close, I happened near -
lost both my boots and lost my gear.
They tied me up that very night -
my wrists had hurt, the rope was tight.
Then one pulled quick, his shiny sword -
and threw me on that weathered board.
The ocean deep, the water black,
I felt his sword pressed to my back.
So I stepped out - again, again,
with nudges felt from earthly sin.
The steps I took were very short
but that old plank gave me support.
I thought quite quick but took some pause -
reflecting on life's silly laws.
So blinded by life's codes and rules,
I had nothing - them, the jewels.
Hoping here on earth I'd stay,
I stepped through life from day to day.
And this I knew, could not pretend -
this plank was short. There was an end.
My weight pushed low the outer ledge.
My toes could feel the very edge.
No turning back, what's done is done -
no place to turn - no place to run.
Our bodies end with earthly goals
as all life ends, but not our souls.
Emotions quake, as body shakes,
but after death, the soul awakes.
Oh, they held truth (though they got old)
those pirate tales that grandpa told,
but futile is a life that's wed -
with both the soul and body dead.
©2009 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED