Author: Chris Hutchinson

LOWLY booty with no appeal

CORAL rushes up as

PLANK is walked

AMISS and avast, the life of a pirate

LOWLY is as lowly does

CORAL shots sting as

PLANK in me eye remove

AMISS of me thy specks to first see

STAMP of fame already indelibly printed, little

BONEY still sat in his hacienda, pondering what

TRACE of possibility still remained, and could he

CLOVE his way back to glory once more, alas

St. Helena was no Elba, and he was after all, tired

GUILT, grace, gratitude:

BIRTH of new life (!)

QUOTH the catechism.

EVADE the rot of rote repetition, my son.

STUNG by the promise of a life overly

SHAPEd by ambition, he learned the hard way:

QUAIL in the hand is better than a newspaper

BLURT or two in the bush

BLAST

SKULL

VAUNT

LIEGE

If I can’t turn this into a poem about D&D

what good am I.

GRASS ruminated

BELCH generated

CROWD of leftovers

SHOWN, never outdated

WIDER is the water than I

AWAIT me the wings to fly

CROSS with my love for aye

MEATY the feast, but ’til then, O waly waly