Month: February 2018

Captain John, the royal navy; dreaded Brig the buccaneer

Faced off near a desert island, neither man planning to veer

 

A message to the Captain scratched by Brig’s black fingernail

Written in the darkest pitch on a hoisted mizzen sail

 

“A sabre at your feet and a white flag unimpaired

Surrender the chest of gold and your ship will be spared”

 

John, forty years a sailor, who was called by no man frail

Soon replied in matching fashion with his own black pitch and sail

 

“A mounted broadside cannon and three hundred rounds that fit it

This gold belongs to the kingdom, if you want it come and get it”

 

Brig, smirking at the reply, his teeth gold or rotted out

Wrote out his second message and then spun his ship about

 

“Not my first stolen chest, galleys sunk off many shores

My pirate ship’s equipped with FOUR broad cannons such as yours”

 

Sensing the battle coming, John saw fit to fire first

Soon the ocean waves were drowned out by the sound of cannon burst

 

With splashes in the water John raised up his telescope

And saw Brig’s latest message hanging from the main mast rope

 

“A backwards facing captain, a gunner without a clue

Your cannon balls all missed me so nah-nah nah-nah boo”

 

Soon Brig returned the favor and the cannonballs did fly

With four times as many cannons, the white smoke filled up the sky

 

A blast rocking the hull, took John for a moment off his feet

When he rose a fourth Brig message, written on a plain white sheet

 

“An arrow into a bullseye, a popup to a mitt

You’re taking on water fast, that was a direct hit”

 

Seizing his moment, Brig brought his ship within reach

No help for John on the horizon, just that one lone island beach

 

Swinging over the gap on John’s ship Brig did land

But no one was on board; this had not gone as he’d planned

 

He found the chest of gold, but still no sign of Captain John

But back on his own ship a brand new message had been drawn

 

“A kamikaze breech blast, a firework indoors

While you’re looting my ship I’ll be sinking yours”

 

Seizing up the chest in the shipwreck soon to be

Brig grabbed the mainsail mast line and prepared to cut it free

 

Gritting his rotten teeth with a burning sense of loss

He scribbled one last message before swinging back across

 

“From my first dawn to my last, this pirate life I choose it!

There’s a sabre at your side, I hope you’re trained to use it!”

 

Fighting on the deck, Captain John sure held his own

But their time was running out, the whole bilge it had been blown

 

With water to their ankles, each watched the others’ choice unfold

Captain John ran to the row boat, dreaded Brig ran to the gold

 

With John rowing away, Brig dragged his stolen chest to shore

Soon finding under the lid, John had prepared one message more

 

“A peacock to a blind man, a bullhorn to a mute

There’s nowhere on this island to spend your pirate loot”

with audio by Jordon Hodges and Brittany Risner

Jenny wanted a treehouse, so her mom built her one

She played day and night and had oh so much fun

 

So much so, in fact, she didn’t want to come down

Or return to her boring non-treehouse and town

 

Her mom called up to her, one late fall weekend

She wouldn’t force her daughter to stop playing pretend

 

“You can keep playing up there your whole life, but if you do

you’ll need a tree doctor, and a tree dentist too

 

“We’ll build a tree school and fill it with tree books

You can eat at tree restaurants that employ tree cooks

 

“When you’re older you’ll get a tree job and a tree car to drive

With tree banks and tree markets your tree town will thrive”

 

When Jenny agreed, her mom kept her word

And for years the sound of her hammer was heard

 

She built a tree office and tree parking space

And a tree fire station, just in case

 

Tree roads, tree fences, and tree parks were made

In suspended tree yards, they planted tree trees for shade

 

Jenny had a small son, and when he was grown

He asked for a tree treehouse of his own

Captain Leeward took the deck –her hair fiery red.
Gnarl the Pirate’s last words echoing in her head:

“You can search the Citrus Isles for a lifetime at your leisure,
sail for a hundred years, and still never find my treasure.”

No jokes as they sailed toward the Isle of Plum.
Those Citrus Island seas –treacherous as they come.

To avoid jagged rocks Leeward turned her ship fast!
Each island she sailed to might be her last.

For such a harrowing journey it was hard to prepare,
Ol’ Gnarl’s chest of treasure could be buried anywhere.

Perhaps on the East Isles: Kiwi, Banana, Plum, or Cherry,
Not to mention Apricot, Lemon, Lime, or Strawberry.

Or on the West Isles: Mango, Grape, Pear, Pineapple,
Nectarine, or Blueberry, even Orange, or Apple.

On the shore of Plum Island, no gold to be found,
Just one taunting letter stuck into the ground:

“You’ve guessed incorrectly you accursed sea-snake
Purple’s not the color of the Island’s namesake.”

Undeterred captain Leeward once again set her sail,
Toward Banana Island through a freak storm of thick hail.

Arriving there safely with a bit of good luck,
Once again in the sand, there a letter was stuck:

“You’re wasting your time if yellow fruits you do chase,
but primary colors are not at all that off base.”

Leeward aimed her ship back toward those dark perilous seas,
East toward Cherry Island, against a strong ocean breeze.

Past a whirlpool she sailed, a narrow escape,
As she reached Cherry Island’s eastern most cape.

To her great dismay for the third time she did view,
Not a chest, but another insulting Gnarl clue.

“With treasure hunters like you there was hardly any need to hide it,
The correct isle’s fruit has no seeds inside it.”

Not sure what to do, somewhat tired, but not very,
She aimed her ship west, toward the isle of Blueberry.

To make matters even worse as she started on her way,
Was the bit of bad news her first mate did convey:

“Odds that our ship holds up much longer are poor,
We can only safely sail… to one island more.”

On the outskirts of those east Island seas,
The captain rethought her analyses.

Suddenly with an “Ah Ha!” the entire crew heard her shout,
At the very last moment she turned the whole ship about.

“Old Gnarl was misleading but never actually lied,
A strawberry’s seeds are on the OUTSIDE.”

Past the jagged coral reef of the Strawberry Isle,
The crew came ashore walking out single file.

With no note to be found Leeward’s crew started to dig,
Soon reaching a chest that was shockingly big.

Her crew hoisted the chest and then cleared her a space,
Enough gold for ten lifetimes shined up in her face.

The supercomputer robot automaton

An engineering marvel and phenomenon

 

While NASA and Mensa fought over his time

He’d dream of white snow-covered mountains to climb

 

Not part of his programming, it just made no sense

Why his longing to snowboard was oh so intense

 

He hated equations; despised maxes and mins

He’d rather add some 360s into 720 spins

 

He beat the greatest chess master, found the last digit in Pi

But all he wanted was a halfpipe to launch him through the sky

 

One day the top scientists they thought up a fix

An “upgrade” to give his dreams of snowboarding the nix

 

On the day set for the install they looked all around

But the robot computer was nowhere to be found

 

On a pristine snowy hill somewhere far, far away

A new snowboarder was putting on quite a display

 

Full snow gear including hood, snow goggles, and visor

(covering every square inch of metal so that no one’s the wiser)

 

No need for food, rest, or sleep he could shred night and day

That supercomputer / automaton runaway

 

Time to time someone would shout, “That guy’s a machine!”

And a happier robot has never been seen…