Costa Concordia

This poem is about the Carnival cruise ship, Costa Concordia, which crashed into a large submerged boulder off the coast of the Italian island, Giglio. The captain crashed because he wanted to wave to some friends on the shore and went off course. When it crashed, he left the struggling passengers for dead without giving his crew a single order. It is written in 220 lines like the poem, "Llanto por Ignacio Sanchez Mejias", by Federico Garcia Lorca.

Horns, and shouts, and shrieks of joy,

Marking a voyage never so fine.

A Carnival of dreams, none to be coy,

Neigh!  Such a merrymaking ought never resign.

Some dancing was shared,

And some living was had,

And how none would be spared,

When the night would turn bad.

Loving and caring, caressing with heart,

And with smile, and cherished embraces,

So gracious, however swiftly they’d dart.

And how the heart chases, the engine races,

Toward some fire, some death, and some fright.

Oh, and the screams!  Oh, how those screams filled the night!

Fire and carnage, how the Devils took those devices!

How they wielded the force of those weapons of fate!

How they built up that rage, and whence the rock dices,

The metal shielded side of that ship, it all came to be too late!

How dark was that night, my friends, how dark was it for true!

That such a terrible havoc could have been wrecked upon you!

We all can quite easily see it, one hundred and fifty meters of plight!

All spackled from here to there, the two hundred and ninety meters of death!

Twenty-three hundred tons of Hell hath been spilled to paint us this sight!

And oh, the screams!  How they fell between the first and the last shivering breath!

The screaming!  The terror!  The pain!  And the horror!  What brought them to us this night?!

What was the cause we were pained, of shattered lives and darkness ordained tonight?!

A Carnival of death!  Twisted, wrecked pain, how it lunged and it lurched in the air,

Like all of our hearts and our gullets which spilt upon the Giglio for what was seen there!

I would ask what of Man could cause us such Hell…

But the Devil had a name that night…

And as he waved in the dead and rung them his golden bell…

The young and the old first gave up their fight…

A sinking feeling surrounded us then…

It came, and struck, and sunk us again…

But never once did that Hell leave…

For this took all we could ever believe…

A gurgling followed and I struggled to stay!

I ought to have swam to shore, but I could not see the way!

Oh!  The agony of the water that night!

The anger it must have felt against us all!

I just wish I had but a single chance to make right,

What wrong caused Costa Concordia to fall!

Hell filled our lungs!  Yes, it was Hell!

Hell was a rock in the water!  That’s why the ship fell!

Hell was the water we swam in that night!

They said how hot Hell would be, but THEY WERE NOT RIGHT!

Hell filled our lungs!  Yes, it was Hell!

Hell drowned our spirits!  That’s why we all fell!

But even the Devil didn’t care for his benefits that night…

For when the first sank, and we saw what was to come…

Even he knew that this harvest was but not right…

But we all calmed and we simmered and our bodies grew numb…

But I can tell you all this, our spirits still felt…

And there was none other pain that was dealt…

But that of the sitting, and dying, and waiting for death…

That of our stomachs pitting, and crying, and stealing our breath…

And the Hell that would follow as the Concordia sank…

Is nothing so compared to that cold water so dank…

How we suffered that night…how suffered so dear…

For the pride…for a wave, for the fun of some CAPTAIN!

WE ought not to die in the waters this night!  Unless HE is here!

HE ought to be here right with us, for it is on HE that this should HAPPEN!

Mr. Francesco Schettino, YOU fool!  YOU were the Devil tonight!

YOU lit the coastline with fiery carnage to give Giglio light!

YOU tempted fate against Man!  Why should WE feel its spite,

When YOU upturned the vessel and ran to leave us to the cold water’s bite!

Some evil overtook the helm of that ship!

How else shall a mere rock have made the bulkheads rip?!

Some evil overtook the helm of that ship!

Why else would instructions not be taught by the hand or spoke by the lip?!

Some evil be of the name Francesco it would so seem!

How else could fate have led nightmare to that Carnival dream?!

I shall condemn of this night all that had made it,

For nothing so bleak was ever so ever so writ…

And as those waters gargled and chopped…

We all…just one by one…stopped…

ONE!  Fell to the water, how cruel?!

The end of a good life, a battle with death!  Yes, a duel!

TWO! Sank to the bottom-most level,

Whence that ship began to lurch and to bevel!

THREE! Drifted off in the night!

What evil, what darkness, what Hell-borne sight!

FOUR! Froze upon the ice water!

If only Hell or the Devil had made it little hotter!

FIVE! Choked upon the sullen, dim sky!

Why, please why did these people so die?!

SIX! Were swallowed unto the dark!

If only that Captain did not embark!

SEVEN! Left for a land the wrong way!

Oh! They could not see, there was no light of day!

EIGHT! Waited upon the rails of the ship!

How that twisted metal would soon rip!

NINE! Swam to shore but made it not!

What a sad, what a sullen, what a sorry lot!

TEN! Were turned over by the Coast Guard then!

But their cold faces would never be seen again!

ELEVEN! Made it back to land with life,

Only to die after from all of the strife!

FOUR THOUSAND! Were upon that Carnival Cruise!

Of the great sum, how many did we sadly lose?!

And ONE, ONE found himself upon landward sail…

And it is but fitting that he would be sentenced to jail…

That was how nightmares took Costa Concordia dreams…

Oh…and the silence…how we all missed those crying screams…

What a sight…what a sorrysome sight so indeed…

We see it from the Italian shores of the Giglio now…

We see the hunked cruiser, how she does bleed…

From the starboard off leeward, and from stern to bow…

A ship wrecked by a pitched boulder of solidsome Pride…

Bleeding and wailing unto the Moonlit night sky…

Moaning as it twists, and it turns, and bevels to the bottom of the ocean’s tide…

To escape off to Hell to meet its Captain whensoever he should such die…

As the captain goes down with his ship, this one did not…

But that is not for why I shall find no sight of forgiving…

But for the cause to wreck his ship…only to wave at a friend…HE SHOULD ROT!

Give the killer unto the prisons of eternal fire!

Let all the dead have some vengeance they so desire!

Spit the mucus of life, the harbinger of death, unto the hottest Hell’s floor!

Take it all of him, his world and his love, and give yet no more!

Let the beast of the sea with his seven horns waste,

Such as we hath had to, let he mourn all of his haste!

Let the beast of the land, with his armies of the fresh dead,

Sit in homage of crimes for all the spilt bloods so red!

We can all see the puddles of deadened white flesh upon the Giglian water’s surface!

We can all see so easy the seacraft beckoning toward the bright Italian sky!

We can all see why the bondman of death, Satan’s loyal footservant, ought live in Hell’s furnace!

We can all see how he made a world, so hardened to death, sit and ever-cry!

We can all see the havoc he wrought whence he had that one proud moment of thought!

We can all see what he had bought whence he commenced with the Pride he so sought!

That captain crashed four thousand lives unto a parked boulder of local fame,

Such that he might give but a wave or a nod to a friend upon the shores!

Whoso expected this tragedy reckoned!  Who foresaw the death, and the metal, and flame!

Whoso expected this tragedy reckoned!  Who foresaw the overturned vessel and lurching floors!

Lo! if only such foolish evilness could have been better founded…

Then maybe those screams would not have such resounded…

ONE! Shall lay grip upon his ten toes,

Tightening for all these inhumane woes!

TWO! Shall spear his remains with metals of the dead ship,

To repay his evil by tearing, and pulling, to make his gullets all rip!

THREE! Shall lay grip upon his ten fingers,

Tightening for every dead body which lingers!

FOUR! Shall drop axes and halberds upon his knees,

To repay the limbs limped and to find Fate’s please!

FIVE! Shall lay grip upon both his feet,

Tightening for each heart which did fleet!

SIX! Shall take swords down to his arms,

To repay all his damages and his harms!

SEVEN! Shall lay grip upon each his hand,

Tightening for each soul which did not reach land!

EIGHT! Shall have spoons to pull out each eye,

To repay every man, woman, and child he made die!

NINE! Shall lay grip upon his meager neck,

Tightening for the memories made by his shipwreck!

TEN! Shall string rope ‘round to pull off his head,

To repay every innocent victim he left for dead!

ELEVEN! Shall lay ultimate grip around his beating red bloodied heart,

Tightening for every second betwixt each person’s first pain and last depart!

Let their hands wind, and twist, and pull!

Let they grasp, and tug, until it could no longer hold!

Then let it rip betwixt all their hands like that starboard hull!

And let it drip death for the departed, both young and old!

FOUR THOUSAND! Shall sit in the courts to protest!

And let the pandemonium take care of all the rest!

For the Devil shall be made to pay!

He shall rot without joy, without but life every day!

ONE! Yes, ONE shall put up some meager fight!

But, oh! How the screams will burn up the night!

How the screams will swallow his heart like the night!

How the screams will feast on his soul like the night!

Oh! How the screams had once so filled the night!

That is how they shall SCREAM EVERY NIGHT!

Not a moment of peace shall ever be such again shared…

As that which once under the Italian sun flared…

No horns, no shouts, and no shrieks of joy…

Nothing will mark a voyage ever so fine…

A Carnival of dreams…how so very coy…

For such unmerrymaking will never resign…

No dance is shared…

No living is had…

For none were to be spared…

When that night would turn bad…

Hating and spiting, atrophying the heart…

And with frown, and forgotten embraces…

How we so wish these thoughts would just dart…

But sights and sounds from the heart which still races,

To the fire, the death, and the fright…

Oh, and the screams…oh, how those screams filled the night…

The banshees stood upon a great many windows methinks…

If only they told someone the tales of how the Concordia sinks…

If only foolish youthfulness hadn’t taken the helm of the Costa that night…

Maybe then we could have negated all of this unforeseen fright…

If a wave had not been priored over some four thousand lives…

If a Captain had worried about the boulders in the dives…

If a shiphull hadn’t been just quite so weak…

Maybe those people, those victims would be hear to speak…

Hell hath no fury like it had just last night…

Devils were never so ever so fowled with spite…

And screams never so ever so howled in the night…

If an unholy tension had not torn that vessel asunder…

If the halls walked across had not become shoots up to ascension…

If the metal hadn’t bellowed such wails and moans of shredding thunder…

Maybe this matter would have been of joy, with no such other mention…

Hell hath no fury like it had just last night…

Devils were never so ever so fowled with spite…

And screams never so ever so howled in the night…

If their captain had not been the gruesome ferryman of death…

If the scrambling heroes, those knightly crewsmen, had but a true captain…

If he had not flown back to shore with wings on his feet to catch speed from dying breath…

Then maybe, just maybe, such a curse could but not again ever happen…

But Hell hath no fury like it had for us last night…

And all I can remember is that gruesome one sight…

Of the youngest of younglings, a true sapling of life…

Wither in the frigid waters where the cold took him by knife…

I could only imagine what splendors he would have led…

If it were not for how his spirits so swiftly bled…

And his parents were found unable to weep…

For such goodness, death would so surely reap…

As that is only how I could so explain…

A tale of such woe, such a sad Tamerlane…

This horror which conquers all other sorrows shall be the memory from which Hell borrows…

The End

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