Tales Of The Black Wanker

So an unspecified amount of time ago I decided to attempt to write a sonnet. In Iambic Pentameter. I'm not really sure why. Maybe I was attempting to flex my creative muscles, maybe I was just bored. Maybe I just wanted to know what the hell Iambic Pentameter actually was.

Either way, the end result is now presented to you, the reader, in the form of an emergency filler post because I haven't got anything better to put up right now.

As to the subject matter, well I'd been reading Watchmen. I guess the Pirate bits stuck with me for some reason.

the dark and secret tides of passion black
upon frayed and breaking tides born down

the cruelest moon shall rise and stars shall crack
afore naked bleeding spent rises morn

yet drowned corpse in such waters still whirl
no respite to cling to much less a shore

still hopes to see such friendly flag unfuled
a bastion o'er lonely tempest bore

yet nought to see on that horizon grim
bourne solitary on waves bleak and cold

the craved for comfort shall come not to him
into the bosom of the deeps enfold

to lie there frozen still in solitude
an unmarked grave beneath the tempest rude