01-16-2016, 05:07 AM
A pinch of dry crumbs hide in the corners
Fingering slim crowns as I dig
A Port Royal breath
Blows breezily over the ridge
Crispy curled papers do me no favours What I took away from this was that the narrator has no desire to have money, his real happiness comes from somewhere else?
But the sweet smell of rum I savor Maybe he just likes living in the moment, hence why money has no appeal. Rum makes you happier immediately, money can be used to buy other things but is really only used as a trade mechanism.
Bright blue lady comes into view. Rippling. Rising. Falling.
She knows my name. I’ve heard her calling Great line
Pockets of hooks jingle their jangles
I sit and watch her exposed, as my rod limply dangles.
Descending between her breasts in the hope of false safety
The veering ebb disrobes her. But no need to be hasty
Nil rest for the lonely lady.
Morning noon nor night
Not a blink. Not a yielding yawn in sight
Every second is slumberless
With her children beneath her numberless creatures in the sea?
They see me
They flay about trying to flee me.
Open eyes without see
As I slit their smiling throats so happily The lines after this one in this stanza have this good and bad comparison, there are extremely violent things occurring and the narrator doesn't seem to care. Are you trying to show his carelessness, or emphasize that he's not really thinking about his actions toward others?
Into the sack, and home for tea
Blood curdling gurgles and dead eyes glazed
At the taste of their flesh I’m always amazed
But blue lady sees me.
My back is turned
And great love for me she has always yearned
I disrespect and forget her power
She is angry now and will not cower
A strong young boy is hard to resist
Really, I must leave, I must insist
Scheming brine, chary swells
Her anger rises at the sight of me leaving
But she’s had enough. There’ll be no more grieving. grieving from the deaths of her numbers at the hands of the narrator?
I hear her coming.
I know she’s there
Then feel her breath streaming through my hair
Her words are salty.
Her lips are cold.
Respect the lady, I was always told Really appreciate this stanza, the imagery is fantastic.
My grandfather’s words run through my head
“Never turn your back on her, lad”
“She has taken me, and men before
Into her bed forever more” How could his grandfather tell his grandson that she has taken him forever? Meaning he feels this desire to return to sea or she has pulled him into her depths?
The cold light fades. My arms stretch wide
There’s no use struggling
Water inside.
She pulls me down into her lair
Holding me tight, it’s just not fair
Too weak to breathe, too weak to cry
A lonely blank stare
As her children swim by
Fingering slim crowns as I dig
A Port Royal breath
Blows breezily over the ridge
Crispy curled papers do me no favours What I took away from this was that the narrator has no desire to have money, his real happiness comes from somewhere else?
But the sweet smell of rum I savor Maybe he just likes living in the moment, hence why money has no appeal. Rum makes you happier immediately, money can be used to buy other things but is really only used as a trade mechanism.
Bright blue lady comes into view. Rippling. Rising. Falling.
She knows my name. I’ve heard her calling Great line
Pockets of hooks jingle their jangles
I sit and watch her exposed, as my rod limply dangles.
Descending between her breasts in the hope of false safety
The veering ebb disrobes her. But no need to be hasty
Nil rest for the lonely lady.
Morning noon nor night
Not a blink. Not a yielding yawn in sight
Every second is slumberless
With her children beneath her numberless creatures in the sea?
They see me
They flay about trying to flee me.
Open eyes without see
As I slit their smiling throats so happily The lines after this one in this stanza have this good and bad comparison, there are extremely violent things occurring and the narrator doesn't seem to care. Are you trying to show his carelessness, or emphasize that he's not really thinking about his actions toward others?
Into the sack, and home for tea
Blood curdling gurgles and dead eyes glazed
At the taste of their flesh I’m always amazed
But blue lady sees me.
My back is turned
And great love for me she has always yearned
I disrespect and forget her power
She is angry now and will not cower
A strong young boy is hard to resist
Really, I must leave, I must insist
Scheming brine, chary swells
Her anger rises at the sight of me leaving
But she’s had enough. There’ll be no more grieving. grieving from the deaths of her numbers at the hands of the narrator?
I hear her coming.
I know she’s there
Then feel her breath streaming through my hair
Her words are salty.
Her lips are cold.
Respect the lady, I was always told Really appreciate this stanza, the imagery is fantastic.
My grandfather’s words run through my head
“Never turn your back on her, lad”
“She has taken me, and men before
Into her bed forever more” How could his grandfather tell his grandson that she has taken him forever? Meaning he feels this desire to return to sea or she has pulled him into her depths?
The cold light fades. My arms stretch wide
There’s no use struggling
Water inside.
She pulls me down into her lair
Holding me tight, it’s just not fair
Too weak to breathe, too weak to cry
A lonely blank stare
As her children swim by