A bored-during-class poetry that attempts to portray me and my friends as brave sailors.
five sailed away to glory,
one found comfort in history,
left behind; four wandered forth,
a pale ghost came through,
"o greedy women, ye traveleth on waters
unsailed; many a krakens crawl underneath.
their slick arms oblivious to thee on thy hull
beware, and wend only if't be true thee dareth"
'mongst the four, three held weapons of diverse kinds
forged from their minds.
one held close her sanity,
serene amid the storm, not a bit of vanity.
one held behind her, whips of manipulation.
served blows so unnoticed, with painful retribution.
the other covered herself in kindness,
virtuous and loved, a weapon of ultimate finesse.
The fourth held none.
she had stumbled her way through the battles she had won.
the sea called out of her,
she daren't fall for its lure
but it seems she can't tread ahead either.
one amongst the four, died a disappointing death.
i'm pretty sure the old english part has some sort of error but that's as far as my knowledge on archaic english goes.
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