Ray Boorman



The mist had hardly lifted off the glass like surface of the Lagoon, in which they were anchored,

for once the sea birds were silent in the eerie opaque coloured sky,

dishevelled insidious crewmen were sleeping where they fell with half full tankard,

their rum soaked soiled clothing steamed from putrid body heat to dry,


Tempest’s seadogs rallied to her drum roll as daylight did unfold,

the lacklustre sails on her rigging were limp awaiting a wind’s breath,

driven by greed the crew slay all they encounter in a never ending quest for gold,

how deceiving this vessel, so magnificent, yet filled with such evil and death.


All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Ray Boorman.
Published on e-Stories.org on 04/11/2011.


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