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What shall we do...........

It was out in Venezuela when I ran into this sailor
He was sitting at the bar, right next to me
He was rugged he was mean and he wasn’t very clean
But I listened when he spoke about the sea

There were stories there were tales, of the hunt for killer whales
When his leg was bitten off below the knee
How en route to Senegal they were shipwrecked in squall
He survived for sixteen weeks, tied to a tree

Came the time in Kathmandu, him the captain and the crew
Were becalmed for seven days, and in a stew
So they hauled him up the mast, where they tied him good and fast
Then they fed him with baked beans, until he blew

After that there came the beast and the native king and priest
It was really getting far too much to bear
As the yarns grew more far fetched, with my patience sorely stretched
I decided that I really didn’t care

So I bought him one more rum and I said, “the time has come”
That I needed to go out, to use the loo
When he said “young man be fast, for you haven’t heard the last,
Like, when I first met your mother, in Peru

Editing stage: 

Comments

but those last two lines peter out a bit lamely, maybe extend it a bit or come up with some sort of punchline?
I’ve a thousand tales, that I can tell to thee”
[maybe, I'm being cheeky I know,]
For I haven't told yet how I sired thee
(that would bring him back from the dunny at a run!)

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Directors

Comments noted, and acted upon. I've added another verse and made one or two changes, any better?

John

author comment

The internal rhyme is peachy. I have two suggestions, but one of them is Jess'. I like his last line. Maybe you could consider it. And this long winded character needs a slightly more long winded poem. It's just too short. I needed more allusions to other tales.
wesley

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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The NeoPoet Mentor Program
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Wes, point taken, I've added another verse and made a couple of changes, I think if it were any longer than this it would be a bit OTT. Hope you like the new and (Hopefully) improved version.

John

author comment

Oh romping along on every word you captured me as he had you in this poem shazbat, I felt the rum trickle down my throat and saw the white whale in the background, this is just right. Although on seeing Wesleys last remark I can agree as we get caught up and want it to go on forever.

Ann

Oh did the title allude to ...the drunken sailor? Of course!

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

Ann

You know you're right about the title.

A little advice for you, if you ever go into a pub on your own steer clear of the old boy in the corner, you can guarantee he will bend your ear for hours, for some reason they always target me.

Glad you enjoyed this one and I hope you like the changes

John

author comment

Oh golly this is still romping and the rum has gone to your head, but not taken away your pen which is still sober. Yarns in pubs can be so particular and special; the last pub I was in was in Wales with Mand(our mand!) and an old bloke who had been in the war spoke of it in his Welsh dialect of English, wonderful to listen to. We had laced brandy together all three!! He had a wonderfully Welsh name too, but I can't find it now, will be back if I do, something like Gareth Gwilliam no doubt; all becomes so colourful.

I learned the local dialect in Flatdal, Telemark, by listening to tales about the war (occupation,) and fishing walks in the mountains, camping. These stories I listened to many times over and each word he uttered was like music to me.

Ann

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

Glad you approve,

Wales is a beautiful place and I have been many times, and will be visiting again this summer, better warn them to look out for an old biker in Builth Wells in June.

John

author comment

genius

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Directors

Cheers Jess

John

author comment

can hardly t-t-type for laughing..........stan

If you're laughing then I must have done something right, thanks for stopping by Stan

John

author comment

it's all been said

i'd just like to add that i didn't want
this to come to an end
i'd park meself next to a character like
this in a pub any day of the week

absolutely cracking...loved every bit of it

cheers
p

I think I must be a nutter magnet, they always seem to pick on me, and I'm too polite to tell them to go away.
So glad that you enjoyed it

John

author comment

I have been a comic book fan all my life. It has been my soap opera for decades. This recession has made my business shrink by half since '08 and I can't afford comics right now (the damn things are three bucks a piece). Since I now need a soap opera, perhaps you could consider a regular installment of this gent to ease my pain. I could do with the laughs too.
wesley

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about

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