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The Five Litre Poets
A selection of entries from the !999 Cape Cod Competitive Drinking and Writing Festival.
Compulsorily subject event (30 minutes and two litres)
Cape Cod Reflections - 1
The empty eye of the rotted cod reproaches
It has served its purpose;I serve none.
Near dead, the horseshoe crab struggles to right itself
Turning it over, I help it on its way.
Perhaps I am of use after all.
Cape Cod Reflections - 2
The fog rolls in on Cape Cod Bay
Vision disappears, the world dissolves
Shapeless, timeless, we are left in search
Of something else. Fog bound we pursue
Our way, midst thin brown grass, sullen seas
Of gray cold froth.
Cape Cod Reflections - 3
Wind wettens
Trees scowl
First shiver of the summer palace.
Old Mac stirs in preparation
For winter's beckoning casket
Slow lid closing
Perhaps this time forever.
Free format event (minimum three litres)
Wrecker Bill
A skitty wind blew down the shore
And Wrecker Bill lay down his whore.
The wind was south, the current swift
A merchant ship was near adrift.
"Me boys", he roared, "we'll have some bounty
A wrecker's dream is off this county.
The lights we'll dim, the marks we'll change
And on the rocks the booty'll range.
So hit the shore and and grab an oar.
And when were done
I'll take my whore."
The Human Race
I am man in the fog
Moving ponderously with great effort and small brain.
Like the horseshoe crab
I move on my back and away from the sea
In a sense of futile venture and certain demise
Looking for knowledge, oblivion and the end of it all
Taking all down with me.
I am man in the fog.
Reflections of a Fashionable Medical Practitioner (and Pillar of Local Society) on the Occassion of his 40 Year Medical School Reunion
Bawdy boozing and pursuit of loveless sex
A flatulence of undigested knowledge idly gained
Enough, just, for the forty years ahead
As dead eyed examiners release their grudging grasp.
Weary wards trodden, as if for all eternity
Ladders of advancement scaled craftily
Snakeful suites for malpractice artfully evaded
Patients bled
Pockets lined
Families vastly fed beyond their avaricious needs
Bloated with self-satisfaction
Hypocratic oath long forgotten.
The Grim Consultant's baleful scythe begins its swing
Another soon to be forgotten generation passing on.
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