Calypso Storm

A poem about a treacherous storm at sea


Once my father told me,

Of A Storm from days long gone,

When seas beheld no masters,

And Calypso reigned supreme.


The skies did they darken.

Swells lips kissed by gale,

Lightning flash Calypso's crown,

Her favour did rescind.


Slack canvas flapping madly,

Rat lines torn asunder,

Great galleons of the world,

Reduced to so much driftwood.


When comes the sweet sunrise,

No light would penetrate,

A great vortex of air and water,

Bound sea to sky and tore men from valor.


Escape nigh impossible,

Each crest a mighty fortress,

Which brought cannons to bear,

On each and every soul it saw.


Mountainous waves crash over rails,

Snapping masts and bone alike,

And sent to rest those which blinked,

The murderous under calm no blight.


A mighty ship did sail,

Under Calypso's colour,

It held no crew or captain,

But knew which course to plot.


An armada of gulls followed,

Feathers unruffled by treacherous winds,

Cooing gently in the howl,

Flew as lazy as they bothered.


A great wave did reach for them,

But they were naught displeased,

For though the watery grasp caught them,

They flew through as if they belonged.


When Calypso's ship had gone,

From sight as well as realm,

The sea returned meekly,

And sun was seen again.


The sailors who survived,

Told many of their tale,

But all were labelled drunkards,

Blaggards and really bad eggs.


Even now when seas are forecast,

Each drop of rain expected,

Deck-hand to Admiral to a man,

Pray ne'r to see Calypso's flag.



The End

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