Sheila Roy

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CURRENT POETRY - Not Featured in Dancing With My Imagination

~Peel an Eye, Scalawags, and Check out These Poems from My Sailing the Malaise Series~

Author's note: This series is written from a female pirate's point of view. In the first two poems of this series, Captain Pleasure and Sailing the Malaise, she admits to booking passage on the Malaise as a cabin boy...dressed the part. But the sway of her hips gives her secret away. She and Captain Pleasure become lovers and they co-captain the Malaise together. These poems contain language that may offend some...for this I apologize but a pirate's speech was hardly clean~

Sailing the Malaise 2 by Sheila Roy

While the sea churned like butter, the Malaise sliced through its depths like a knife My crew and I were chasing booty...deep into our pirating life

In hot pursuit of known scum, our sails were as full as a squirrel's cheeks The ship ahoy had robbed a bank and we planned to filch from those filthy sneaks

Captain Pleasure ordered cannons loaded and told all to peel an eye Then he hollered for those scalowags to surrender their ship or die

Their response came loud and clear when their cannons appeared to exhale flames Captain Pleasure and I mirrored smiles, knowing we were best at these games

Accurately-aimed cannons shot off from our starboard deck with a blast One cannon demolished their crow's nest and another knocked down their mast

Captain Pleasure's laugh mingled with mine as he gave the signal to fire Two more shots left gaping holes and now events were right down to the wire

We pulled the Malaise up to their ship and I ordered my men to board I scuffled aboard, eager for action and swinging my golden sword

A scraggly pirate attacked me with steel...though he could have used his breath Four slices later...he was in ribbons...succumbing to his death

I slit another's throat and hollered for my crew to sniff out the gold I buried my sword in a bloke's neck and made a run for the ship's hold

I found two chests of loot, filled to their brims with coins Engaging the guards...I cut one's ankle and removed the other's loins

I have a profile to uphold...notorious for this very thing It keeps my crew from hitting on me when we're out at sea...traveling

With the guards on permanent break, I ordered my men to take the gold Leaping over dead pirates, I ran and jumped to the Malaise and rolled

Smoothly...I strode to Captain Pleasure's side and moments passed as we kissed I shot him a look that said the men will get drunk...and we'd not be missed

Gathered in his arms, I gazed into his eyes with a lover's wonder Then I whispered in his ear, "Ahoy...pirate...you have treasure to plunder!"

Sailing the Malaise 4 by Sheila Roy

The Malaise was en route to Shark Island...the place we call home Protected by fierce sharks and a provocative epitome:

Peel an eye, Hearties, and heed a pirate's warning scrawled in blood Trespass here and be gutted like a pig...left to rot in mud Our swords are razor sharp and our balls are as heavy as stones We'll feed the Great White sharks your emaciated bag o' bones Lay a digit on our gold and we'll cut your body in half Aye, Hearties...that should give the crew of the Malaise a good laugh!

Arriving at Shark Island, the crew unloaded all our gold Most of it would never leave our coffers but some would be sold Like the delicate tea pots which are useless to pirate thugs As are the golden mirrors and the expensive, Persian rugs

All are stored in a cave; the whereabouts shall remain secret You'll only find it if you stand in the right spot at sunset Of course...this richly-cave is riddled with booby traps and wires Not to mention the pitfalls filled with spikes and the foul quagmires

Now that you know of Shark Island...I suggest you stay away Keep rowing when you see it...that way you'll live another day I'm off to Captain Pleasure's abode to drink something fruity But peel and eye for my crew and keep your hands off me booty!

Sailing the Malaise 5 by Sheila Roy

It's time for you all to meet the motley crew of the Malaise We'll be berthed at Shark Island, celebrating for days and days

The first mate is Melvin; he's nearly the size of a whale's dong Sotted or straight, he's always slurring the same words from a song Yet, he's the most daring and a cut-throat 'til the very end But don't stand behind him or you'll smell something that may offend With a musical butt that plays note after note without fail He could balloon one of the ship's mainsails with a gassy gale

Next is Sharkey who earned his nickname chomping some of our foes O'er the years...he's made a flesh necklace from fingers and toes He intimidates some of the other pirates in the crew... Ever since they watched him mix a dead guy's ears into his stew His job on Shark Island is to guard the treasure in the cave If he catches an intruder, he sends them right to their grave

Stubby is the most nefarious crew member on the ship Lost his leg to a shark when he was taking his yearly dip Then he climbed aboard the Malaise and replaced it with a peg He laughed and claimed it would ne'er be as long as his 'third leg' An exaggerated pirate's tale? I can hardly confirm... But the last woman he had...died from an overdose of sperm!

Rafferty is another member of Captain Pleasure's crew He swallowed a blowfish whole and spent three days passing it through That little trick severed his vocal chords...and now he's a mute Limited to facial expressions when he's in a dispute... Likes to use finger gestures sometimes when he's really irate Except with Sharkey...cuz he would add them to his dinner plate!

Now that you've met four of the scoundrels from the Malaise's crew Come have a mug full of Shark Island's rum-flavored brew It has a little bit of this and a little bit of that... But keep your fingers and toes away from Sharkey's boiling vat!

Sailing the Malaise 6 by Sheila Roy

More pirates need introducing so sit back and peel an ear Mayhap you're one of those swabs who believe everything you hear? But my tales are true...or as true as they can possibly be So listen, me Hearties, as I describe to you the next three

Mulligan has moods which change faster than the Malaise can sail One minute he's the sun shining, the next...he's an Island gale Like two pirates duel inside him to determine who will win... One day he went berserk and had to be locked in his cabin But he's a tall fella'; he escaped through the beams o'er head Yet, my sword put ice in his veins cuz he knew I'd kill him dead When his eyes are twin tempests...most know not to get in his way But I had to do something to stop his ridiculous fray Trembling under the touch of my sword, he begged pardon from me I nicked his cheek and set the inner-conflicted pirate free

Sable is an odd mate...his head is constantly filled with thought Hiding his nose in one of them books or pon'drin in his cot He kissed me one time and I admit...my lips liked his just fine But Captain Pleasure bore witness and claimed Sable crossed a line I saw none drawn there on the wooden slats of the Malaise's floor But under jealousy's thumb...Captain Pleasure could see much more He chained Sable's wrists in iron and strapped him to the ship's plank Sharks, in a water ballet, nearly removed Sable's flank They did nibble a bit and now he has teeth marks on his chest He ne'er kissed me again as any scalawag could have guessed

Lester's beard is braided and his eyes are the color of rum Another flirt Captain Pleasure caught...just as he'd brushed me bum Before Captain Pleasure's jealousy could swing its sharpened sword... I whisked out my weapon and sliced off a Hairy, Island Gourd Then I pushed Lester o'er board so the salt water could sting Now he has one ball left and it dangles in a lonely swing His hand ne'er found me bum again and other swabs don't dare I have me a hunch it's cuz they want to hang on to their pair

So now you can see that captaining the Malaise takes a spine Pleasure and I have to put the fear of God into these swine 'Til next time, me Hearties, keep a hand cupped o'er both your nuts Becuz I'm prone to dicing them off of filthy, mongrel mutts!

My Current Fave and the Preface to my novel, The Legacy of 13.

Swinging From the Hangman's Noose by Sheila Roy

Author's Note: This is my tribute to the Salem, MA Witch Trials of 1692.

Beneath an eerie moon, the forbidden...danced...colored red with shame Swallowed by denial and frightened...they sought for others to blame Thus tangled in a web of lies spun by a child waging war Whose pinkened-cheeks and questioned-virtue disguised innocence no more

Under powered wigs and collared shirts blooms the arrogance of man Amongst forked tongues and righteous beliefs...lies and deception began To avoid one's own ruse and sin, fingers point in false direction Confession leads to salvation with the court's and God's protection A blackened heart, hidden within a little girl's charade of tears The guilty avoid disdainful acclaim, playing on people's fears Blind to innocence, the die is cast against foe and even friend God-fearing souls at the mercy of one girl's game of make-pretend

Selfish hopes and dreams inspire worldly gains and personal glory To every bent ear...loose lips conjure a fabricated story Good names were besmirched; suspicion focused an eye on one and all, Judged by Bible-toting members of society who stood tall

The cry of witchcraft...a frozen accusation on many lips Guilty by association, they stood before pointed fingertips With buckled, high-heel shoes they walked cobblestone roads with heads held high Seeking out the devil and his consorts...based on one stupid lie Farther inland they rode with horses, dragging their cart of accused; Soon to face the girls they had allegedly frightened and abused Hoping to crush a confession from the guilty ...with giant boulders Walking a double-edged sword...a forced lie weighted honest shoulders

They tried innocent folk with any evidence they could produce Without a confession...the guilty would swing from the hangman's noose Searching for the ladder to Heaven...clinging to the bottom rungs But God will filter those with shriveled hearts and lying, blackened tongues

Souls were compromised...lives were lost...without a rational excuse While the truly guilty watched them swing...swinging from the hangman's noose

At the Tip of a Wand Series

At the Tip of a Wand by Sheila Roy

Within a wall of Elms and Sycamores A waterfall descends from mountaintops Reviving the river below...it pours Rushes to the unknown and never stops

Beneath pooled waters...thrives another world Above, ivy swings from each tree's green crown Flowers wave petals and weeds lie curled A thorny stem blushes in its rose gown

Grass spreads; thick carpet below tender feet Adorned with lilies as its jewelry Carnations curtsey to each life they meet Lilac's perfume swims in the breeze gently

A crystal throne shimmers in the sunlight Awaiting the master of this cheery home Birds sing their songs on airy wings of flight Lucky master of this natural dome

The trees part to let their Mother pass by Created by her magic wand and will She colored the lakes and painted the sky Gave peace in the wind and calm to the still

In the midst of life, her creations dance With a wave of her wand beauty unfolds Flowers fluff their dresses with just a glance Unleashed...the power Mother Nature holds

At the Tip of a Wand 2...Summer Slendor by Sheila Roy

Inside the walls of Mother Nature's realm Magic dances an elegant ballet Powerful doses that can overwhelm Open arms that welcome the month of May

April showers have had their chance on stage Bringing thunderstorms and lightning displays Gyrating music that seems full of rage, Skies rich with white clouds and differing grays

Now the sun bobs in an oceanlike sky May is tiptoeing closer every day Sunny days rule again and June is nigh... Hoping to steal the attention from May

Leaves whisper amongst each other and blush Their reserved seats in the trees boast a view At the tip of her wand...her creatures hush Waiting to see what their Mother will do

Deer, bunnies, birds, and others circle 'round Watching...amazed...as summer blooms appear Wearing vibrant colors as they are crowned Twirling in their skirts for any who leer

Frogs belch their opinions from lush, green pads Guarding their tadpoles from their floating barge Eyeing water bugs...the skating nomads... As they group together and start to charge

The fish below break the skating bugs' ranks Swallowing soldiers in a wide-mouthed gulp Quickly dispersing the water bugs' flanks Eating their meal; a crunchy treat with pulp

Turtles bask lazily on mossy logs Diving under the water in the heat Swimming...playfully...chasing polliwogs Then scaling the logs to reclaim their seat

Summer uncurls from slumber with a yawn Flexing and stretching with a gust of breeze Circulating its message until dawn Visiting old friends and rustling through trees

At the Tip of a Wand III...Winter Beauty by Sheila Roy

Mountains...snowcapped and bearded with icy tendrils Peek down at a luminescent, snowy chalet Tucked into the mountainside and surrounding hills The sun stretches heated arms in a hug midday

Trees snuggle inside their bark, keeping their roots warm The river moves on trying to prevent a freeze Squirrels buckle-down against the upcoming storm Safe inside their hideouts and doing as they please

A deer wiggles its nose and sniffs the fragrant air Catching the scent of a bunny as it hops by; It hopes to reach its den before it meets a bear, Knowing the circle of life exists...all must die

Within the wintery chalet, life marches on Birds that didn't fly south enjoy the extra space Flowers hide beneath the snow waiting 'til it's gone Of their spring beauty...there is not a single trace

Critters shake fresh flakes from their winter-coated fur As Mother Nature takes her throne, they gather 'round At the tip of her wand, they chatter and murmur All asking her if the hands of time have been wound

Despite the wonders of winter, they crave springtime But Mother Nature warns them to seize each moment For each season sparkles with beauty in its prime And a day in awe of winter...is one well spent

Mesmerized by her musical voice, they listened As her sage words left her mouth in a smoky plume Then she pointed to a fluffy flake that glistened, "Look...each is a unique, frosty flower in bloom."

~Romance~

Timeless by Sheila Roy

Alas, my love... We are spun together like a web One long string that defines us as one and the same Coiled for infinity with a love that mirrors the hands of time We cannot be undone... We cannot be unwound... We cannot be untied...

Like an hourglass... We are an end without a finish Our love renews with each turn... Filling...sifting...filling... We cannot be broken... We cannot be drained... We cannot be dissolved...

We are the well without a bottom We are the flower that was never picked We are the tree that was never felled We are the passion that was never slaked We are... ~timeless~

Two Roses in Full...Bloom (Lira) by Sheila Roy

Author's note: Lira is a Spanish style of poetry with a syllable count of 7, 11, 7, 7, 11 and usually of a romantic nature.

Rose petals brush steamy skin Submersed in water...submersed in your steel arms Nether-petals welcoming... Softened and waiting for you... To plunge...into a...bath...heated by your touch

~Thought Provoking~

Thinking Pond by Sheila Roy

When my thoughts are like autumn leaves in a flurry I retreat to a wondrous pond unblemished by ripples Smooth surface...looking glass into the soul... Where none can throw stones or breach the calm

Grasping sand in a crouch...the grains empower me They speak of reason to a mind beguiled by turmoil Shimmering to my eye but enlightening to my being They share wisdom...with a fool on her journey

Facing the wind with eyes shut but mind open Brushstrokes of freedom clasp my face in a kiss Parting...allowing me to stand my ground... Affecting me with gentle reminders of change

Handful of pebbles pretending to be my silent confidant Dropped one by one...as shoulders shake loose burden Gazing into waters...peace stares back with an agenda Parting with wisdom...for a fool on her journey

I See the Light through the Muck by Sheila Roy

Author's note: I wrote this one to remind myself that I should never forget why I started writing in the first place. When you get pulled into the publishing game and have to worry about promotion, you spend more time promoting than writing. Very few non-writers know how hard it is to find a publisher. Many great authors waited years to see their work in print by a reputable publisher...I hope to follow in their footsteps one day~

I thought I knew my way around the bayou whether it was day or night But the fog embraced my pirogue, slipping mysterious arms 'bout me tight Emerging from its clammy curtain I realized no one was in sight

So I rode the current alone fearing I had lost my way at long last And I had...I was now seeing unfamiliar territory whiz past I have no idea what happened...moments ago I was having a blast

Now the crawling vines I loved so much are vicious snakes hungry for a snack And the swampy marsh I'd called home was just water collecting in a crack The crocs are now future suitcases for eager vacationers to pack

The cicadas beautiful music was now a tiresome, dreary song I used to feel accepted in this haven...now I feel I don't belong Floating farther from my start...I lost my way...now everything feels so wrong

A beacon up ahead puts me back on my path which is safe and secure I promise myself I won't be led astray again...no matter the lure I'll never see ugly again where there is only natural and pure