Treasure Island

Captain Cur

(England)

Comments about Captain Cur

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  • Mandolyn ... (7/21/2014 10:58:00 PM)

    all i gotta say is pirates are FREAKING COOL
    so without having read a lot of your stuff i am going to applaud you loudly just for the info on your page.
    thieves and cutthroats- hurrah!
    i wrote a pirate poem when i was 16 and i carry it with me still~
    keep on keepin' on

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  • Amir Mohammad Islami Chalandar (6/6/2014 7:23:00 AM)

    excellent poems. you are great in explaining your feels. i invite you to read my poem

  • Terry Craddock (5/9/2014 7:51:00 PM)

    Salute Drink To Uncompromising Sea

    Ah Captain Cur twas fair pirate spoken
    take my token now blood cut bespoken
    for I be off tonight to crew toast bold
    our salt testimony 'Uncompromising Sea'

    'a rum fueled, beer kegged, wine barreled'
    drought of poetry Captain Cur bequeathed
    to thee to me upon shores of stars eternity

    in truth I be off to swill rum ravish wine
    drink beer to wash it down with feast dine
    dance sing crappling coupling eternity time


    Copyright © Captain Cur and Terence George Craddock.
    Inspired by the poem 'Uncompromising Sea' by Captain Cur.
    Quoted title and quoted line by Captain Cur.

  • Terry Craddock (5/9/2014 12:08:00 AM)

    Malevolent Storms Unknown Seas

    uncompromising sea awaits
    in whispered river waves
    for black stallion to voyage
    forth further into unknown seas
    seeking gold jewels destinies


    Copyright © Terence George Craddock

  • Terry Craddock (5/5/2014 1:34:00 AM)

    Rum Message In A Bottle Floating Sent

    Dead reckoning off an ancient sextant
    taking a fix on a bright likely star point,
    this be a current true tide accounting of how
    I do send messages to pirate Captain Cur;

    Ahyo at de wheel pirate Captain Cur
    how be ye old salty sea dog bones?
    be de wind brisk in de Malevolent sails
    cutting ocean run black stallion waves?

    thanks for ye barnacle writ lines matey
    poem cut on me fallen drunk John poem,
    let me know if ye sharp boon owed wish
    me to return penned tribute inked favour?

    but me poem would quill sand grit be
    written in rum for us both to savour,
    since last hearing rumour word from ye
    I has been off sailing salt seven seas,

    been stranded ship wrecked
    a bad broken time or two,
    tossed sudden violent about
    by turbulant stormy seas,

    weathered wind wave violent
    vicious exposed saline gales,
    survived to swim cast down tell
    me cursed wreck salty sad tales,

    been dark blood betrayed
    by deceitful cut throats,
    a few I let yardarm swing
    upon me course ropes,

    others I sharp sword
    point run off de plank,
    left drowning behind
    in rat judgement seas,

    after I bought them bound tied low
    to sentence judgement forced knees,
    so be de fate of us raw pirates bold,
    still so many salt stories to be told,

    fair ye well old salt Captain Cur
    may a fair wind be at ye steal back,
    a wide deep sea sail square ready
    to be wind caught roamed before ye,

    time for us sailing forth further
    adventures to treasure plunder,
    regards ye old salt sword mate
    Terenzio is off to reap steal fate


    Copyright © Terence George Craddock

  • Shahzia Batool (5/6/2013 12:09:00 AM)

    Fiction, fancy, folk-lore, fairy-tales, fantasies...and a complete play of Imagination is what your poems are all about; yet i believe that life is full of many uncertainties that it likens to a myth; while existing in the modern age, there is an anachronistic feel about your world you offer in poems, in the upcoming years, when people will read it, they won't place it in 21st century poetry, rather an ageless and timeless work beyond the fever and fret of this mundane life...such a work which does not carry a label of one age is beyond the bounds of time and tide of life...it's for all ages, all times and all minds...as what is imagination if bound in the time-limit?

  • Doug Bentley (4/18/2013 10:45:00 PM)

    This is a true accounting of how 'I' came to write the poem 'Somersault, ' and of Captain Cur's hand in it. The poem is a footnote to his 'Imagination Proclamation.'

    I couldn't sleep one night, so I went for a walk. I live near the ocean, so I walked upon the shore. A half-moon held up the star-soaked sky. I gazed into infinity.

    'Do you have the time? ' A voice, startled, I turned. I thought I was alone.
    A woman sat upon a log, half hidden by the forest, half lit by the moon. 'I never wear a watch, ' I answered, 'Who are you? '

    'Do you live here? ' she asked. 'Do you? ' I asked. She swept a finger at the sea.
    I turned to it. A fog bank, fast moving, approached. 'Who are you? ' I asked her again.

    A lightning flash! The lady stood up. I noticed she was wrapped in a body shawl covered with bird feathers.

    'BOOM! ! ! '

    A cannon blast shattered the silence, the night and my ears.

    She, now dancing sprightly, hands upraised in delight, fairly flew toward the deeps. As she passed me, our eyes locked. Hers fathomless glowed dark with mystery; mine terrified and, I swear - for an instant, I saw her eyes flash lightning, too.

    'Stop! Come back! ' I shouted. I wanted to keep her. But something held me frozen. I couldn't move, or breathe.

    She was soon beneath the waves. The fog, now suddenly luminous, within, I saw the outline of an ancient sailing ship.

    On deck stood the figure of a tall man, hands on hips, legs outstretched. An authority in this otherworld, he leaned down and held out his hand. From the waters a hand reached up to it. The man, effortlessly, lifted up and locked the hand of the mysterious dark lady whom I had met.

    They embraced, lovers unto death - and beyond.

    The fog darkened, dispersed. The night sky was clear again, sea waveless. The ship had vanished.

    My mind reeling, in a panic I stumbled back home. I bolted all the doors. Lights out, I hid myself in a corner, still trembling. Then, it happened.

    An unfamiliar candle upon my desk ignited.

    Gathering my wits, I crawled to my desk. Upon it, a scroll of yellowed, brittle parchment with these words, written in blood.

    'we are no old-fashioned heroes
    who fight a blind dragon or two
    then retire into the forest
    to warn off others in stories
    just of how dragons are slain.

    we have only litanies of loss
    to demons who never die, who
    can never be killed, (only out-
    witted, pacified, subdued) :
    each of us a library of disease.

    and who recognizes us, the crazy
    ones who live life as if it's some
    sort of perfect dive-
    a tumbling
    off the high board into free fall,
    quick somersault, waveless

    arching exit through surface?

    Welcome Aboard,
    C.C.'

    And this is a true accounting of how I first met Captain Cur.

  • Diane Hine (3/5/2013 5:52:00 PM)

    In this fine selection of poetry, you'll find bracing adventure, wicked humour, genuine horror,
    romance, sci-fi escapades, acute observations and probing explorations of human nature.
    Best read Captain Cur for youself and be amazed.

  • Unwritten Soul (9/8/2012 6:54:00 AM)

    He maybe a pirate, maybe far from people in the middle of the seven seas...but i always has trust in him, he really funny with only his single eyed open, parrot even not dare to speak loud to respect his wise, through the sea adventure i am sure this is a long horizon that he gained lot of experiences in writing sharing his days and night. Talents in his shiny crescent metal hook never fade his talent, because he is not an ordinary pirate, He raised his life with confidence, with sharp eyes and the most gentle pirate among others pirate over the seven seas. I will never have a doubt to sail with him and Lady Muse as i know he will lead me to a nice journey....at least in his poetry that he send me in bottles, i picked up everyday to read and see what he see..keep writing poem, your loyal crew_Unwritten Soul

  • Ellias Anderson (9/8/2012 2:17:00 AM)

    The captain of the mad seas and the captain of wise minds. the man who will fight through the blue seas to find the truth.
    A wise mind.

Evil Of Our Birth

Is our name important as personal truths we share
contained within our writings are not our souls laid bare;
some prove opportune to introduce us to their Christ
others use the forum's blear to infect us with their lice.

Worldly lies are shared and culled, debating unproved truths,
some throw off the tight reins of faith harnessed in their youth,
rebellious with pierced eyes and nose, black goth colors spewed
across the tattooed arms and legs branded by their views.

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