Memories Of Blackbeard Poem by Ian Bowen

Somewhere ages back in time,
we small boys ran
in khaki, soldier fields
and longbow, outlaw woods,
sailed on tin bath, pirate streams,
in our invented play.

Recently, I heard
our once gang leader
had passed away.

I attended his funeral,
although we had not met for years.
His grandson approached me and asked
about his Grandfather as a boy.
I had no reservations about saying
the honest, spot on truth.

He was a great soldier
an even better outlaw
and the best captain…

I ever sailed under.