From a writing prompt. That's my excuse.
We're moored in a cave
Six days from Jamaica
Ran out of sunblock
Wife's got a sunburn
I think she's quite gorgeous
All pink like that
She'll have nothing to do with me
I'm her husband
Down to the last bottle of champagne
Short of caviar
The deckhands have abandoned us
Set up a shelter on the beach
There's still seafood in the freezer
But it's past eating
The canapés are long gone
I sent the cook to find us fresh water
Sick of Perrier, but that was three days ago
The captain had a heart attack
We rolled him in sheets
And gave him a burial at sea
That was two weeks ago
Did I tell you the engine died?
I can't raise anyone on the coms
Looks like a storm is coming
Damn! I've spilled my martini.
Morgan Randolph Danforth III
somewhere in the South Atlantic....
November 11, 2007
© 2007 Anne Westlund
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 639 times
Written on 2007-12-09 at 21:10
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Message in a Bottle
We're moored in a cave
Six days from Jamaica
Ran out of sunblock
Wife's got a sunburn
I think she's quite gorgeous
All pink like that
She'll have nothing to do with me
I'm her husband
Down to the last bottle of champagne
Short of caviar
The deckhands have abandoned us
Set up a shelter on the beach
There's still seafood in the freezer
But it's past eating
The canapés are long gone
I sent the cook to find us fresh water
Sick of Perrier, but that was three days ago
The captain had a heart attack
We rolled him in sheets
And gave him a burial at sea
That was two weeks ago
Did I tell you the engine died?
I can't raise anyone on the coms
Looks like a storm is coming
Damn! I've spilled my martini.
Morgan Randolph Danforth III
somewhere in the South Atlantic....
November 11, 2007
© 2007 Anne Westlund
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 639 times
Written on 2007-12-09 at 21:10
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
