David McLansky

Freshman - 843 Points (5/24/1944 / New York City)

The White Ship (29) - Poem by David McLansky

(29) The White Ship


The White Ship is a ghostly city
Crewed by those who have no pity
Here the righteous Stupid rule
Who serve in haste while being cruel

The Gorgon bent above my bed
Her features locked like one who’s dead
She then let out a deafening scream
That echoed ‘cross both length and beam,

“You’ve made my life a misery
With your lies and cunning thievery!
You have made me old before my time!
You must be punished for your crimes!

“You’re not sick, you’re simply lazy!
You fool these fools, but I’m not crazy!
At any time you can rise and walk;
Answer me, you can talk! ”

Hr spitting teeth, her glaring eyes,
How can I answer paralyzed?
Her twisted face, her demon hate!
Why must this be my final fate?

Subject to her tempest breath
Captured, pinioned, fearing death,
Helpless, stuck upon my back,
I fear my Will is waning slack.


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Poem Edited: Friday, October 11, 2013


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