Tale of the Bucolic Buccaneer
He pillaged turnip fields,
not galleons—
a terror to scarecrows,
a scourge of hayricks,
his cutlass nothing more
than a sharpened hoe.
The villagers whispered:
he sails no seas,
only the pond behind the mill,
commandeering a rowboat
with a flag stitched from laundry.
Yet he swaggered,
boots muddied with conquest,
pockets jingling with stolen apples,
declaring each orchard
a colony of his crown.
And when the sun set,
he retires to the tavern,
ordering milk with a pirate’s growl,
boasting of battles
against windmills and geese.
So the tale endures:
not every buccaneer needs
cannon or coast— sometimes
the plunder is laughter itself,
and the map leads
only to the next meadow.
.
-
Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 16th, 2026 05:04
- Comment from author about the poem: In memory of the late Lawrence Beck who didn’t even make Christmas (d. 7 December, 2025) 🪶🕊️🙏🏻
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: Mutley Ravishes, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments6
I felt like I was in a shire. Or should that be The Shire!
Thanks for that most appreciated first comment, Mutley. 🕊️🙏🏻
In each heart remains a child and may they never grow up but live in that neverland. A wonderful write of a child's world where fantasy fills the day and night. As adults it only fills dreams unless you are a poet.
Ooh, that “unless” could bring on more poems! Thanks, Soren 🕊️🙏🏻
And may it bring many more my friend
I hope so, friend. But sometimes I’m no longer sure enough🕊️🙏🏻
"Pieces of apple, Pieces of apple" - Obliquely took me back to playing pirates on the grass as a kid.
Indeed! Those were truly the days🤩🕊️🙏🏻
Too soon in the year to die away.
Dearest friend, this is playful, affectionate, and very moving. While I am unfamiliar with Lawrence Beck, this is a most beautiful way to remember someone. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
A poet friend from a different site, from around 2010 onwards. It wasn’t written directly for him but there were enough parallels to have him in mind after the fact. 🕊️🙏🏻
Fine words of days passed Rik, those days of fun andjoy.
Andy
And they shall live on, thanks Andy 🕊️🙏🏻
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