Jack Dore's in the Crow’s Nest
Spyglass ready at his side
Weather eye on the horizon
He scans the Caribbean Main

The Sun burns – waking past pain 
Wheals scorched by Cat ‘o’ Nine
Across his back – a Reminder
To be careful - To be watchful 

He looks for sails –Spanish sails
For Galleons hold treasure
Gold to be had - Glory for all
If the prey can be found 

And found it must be
For Drake commands – Expects!
Woe betide the sailor who’s not
Fleet afoot in the quest 

There is honour to be earned
Profit for Elizabeth, our Queen
A Share for Captain Drake
Even for those who serve beneath

So Jack watches – his pain makes for honest
The Doubloons in his minds-eye
He needs to make his mark
To find the foe

For the crew are ready - eager
Eager to fight - To plunder
Plunder Spanish holds
To pirate their gold

It's a medium
A written window
To the soul?

Or a jumble of words
A fantasy of authorship
A cry for fame
For the delusional
The failed writer

Poetry - it's like sarcasm...
An escape for those of feeble mind
Perhaps 'the lowest form of wit'

Or just maybe it's words from beyond
A spiritual tour of the subconscious
An open doorway to what lies beneath
A chance to overtly express
An opportunity to speak outside of the norm

Poetry demands patience
From the writer
From the reader...

A poem isn't the product of a day
There is a lifetime
Written in a few sentences
The poem asks us to answer a question
Of ourselves...

Who can fathom that lifetime
Within those few short words
And even fewer minutes..?

Read and try to follow
That which is unfathomable...

Martin Addison – 28/04/2021

Stained with blood?
A hero of saintly stature
Proud on white steed
With fallen foes beneath

A fiction maybe
Of times when saints
Held sway over mortal men
And the peasant hoped
For a peace that was promised
In return for prayer
Obedience and worship

A mythology created
One hero of the past
Like so many others
Created like a Marvel character
Able to achieve the impossible
But giving the people what they need

In similar vein
Batman, Superman, Ironman
Give the people what they need
Our faith has changed
Our heroes remain works of fiction
But our belief in the silver screen is strong

But never underestimate
The power of Santiago Matamoros
That image from the past
Still stirs the fires of human conflict
Today's hate for another's beliefs
Is born out of ancient images
Enduring ideologies that still contest
Will sadly never learn
To forgive and forget

Martin Addison – 20/04/2021

If I had a £1 for everytime someone has laid the worlds troubles at the door of its religions, I would be a rich man! I look not to create offense with this poem, but to illustrate how the imagery of the past creates foment. My hope is that people of all religions (including atheism, etc…) will perhaps look beyond the past to formulate a way to live in harmony together. I wish peace to you all 🙂