Stranded

 

Argh!

What havok.

To be stranded on an island as I am

The sun scorching down on my neck.

It's bright light a weight 'pon my shoulders

I am fixed in location.

Shipwrecked.

​

I am damned on this one palm plantation

Surrounded by ocean

Transfixed by her motion

As waves invade my white sandy nation

I'm awash in the throws of commotion...

She tempts me thirst

But what is worse than this ebb-flow curse

I think, is this tree drinks

Yet bares

Not Fruit!

​

Cute.

Though my bones bulge forth from a starved skin casing

I cast more shade than she.

With my eyes I cast shades of contempt

At it. 

Only to reel in rebuttle.

The form? A coconut scuffle.

That falls

Nay flies

Nay, with gall, tries

To hit me!

​

But misses. 

Yet it does not crack.

Not it's hard shell

Nor my leathered flesh head.

Instead, tis a crab

Who misroams in it's scuttle

He, perforated

Dies.

​

Dead.

​

~ ~ ~

​

If only it were me!

To be shot.

Shot-put

And put from this lifs misery...

​

One day would come a crew of pirates

To Skeleton Sea,

To see my bones so irate

They'd write

​

Here lies he

Who once lay shaded

In the bend of a pine 

And died jaded

Killed by time

And a rogue coconut.

​

No rum to numb

His discontent

No gun to end 

His hot lament

​

May they sign my tombstone thusly.

In the bark

With their blades

And in their imagination

I'd be reborn

Once more.

​

~ ~ ~

​

I am still.

Still alive,

But still.

​

I stare unaware

To blue meetings

Far off

​

I write this letter

On a tatter 

Of cloth

​

And pray

That it reaches good greeting.

​

I am stranded.

Should have buried me back when we landed.