MIRROR'S CORNER

THE DEAD MAN’S TALE

The day is young and my soul is weary,
Sit, for my tale is long and might leave you teary,
It began long ago, this tale which is the truth.
Foolhardy I was, even in the prime of my youth.

I belonged to the king’s navy,
Prospect of riches were so high and savory.
With the endless horizon in my sight,
I ventured into the deep blue under the sun and the starry night.
We fought to keep our lives and honor,
And feared neither man nor the sea’s horrors.

But tragedy struck at last a massive blow.
The war ended, and rivers of blood ceased to flow,
Leaving men without an income and I, a home.
So at sea we began to roam,
A decision we reached at last when all else had failed.

Under the black flag we decided to sail,
Maraud, rob and even hijack, we did all.
Not once under the attack of the empire did we fall.
Like a garment the sea’s protection we wore
And to love nothing but the sea we swore.

Alas, my life at sea came to an early end.
Greed took over my will and my love to the sea I didn’t send
And the sea was furious and her punishment harsh.
No longer can I feel the breath of the sea upon my flesh.

No longer can I savor the taste of wine
Nor the warmth of the woman I called mine.
No longer did I feel the joyous feeling of orgasm
And each day I felt less of a living organism.

The sea’s vengeance was not more than I deserved, no less.
So come hither, youngling, listen and don’t be headless.
Brave the dark seas to the world’s end,
To heedless folks, thee I send.

How I wish to do so myself with my dark sails
But you know, dead men tell no tales.


Written by Obinna Neboh
marvaloneboh@gmail.com