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Poetry as promised:
The Legend of Narwhale
by joey racano
The Nordic seas roiled with a hate for the Viking
Black waters boiled not much to my liking
Lashed to their oars sat a hundred strong row men
Low in the sky the red moon was an omen
Down below decks and in chain kept the wenches
Merciful rains washed us clean of foul stenches
Nary a star to be found in the sky
All navigation thus blind to the eye
Barrels of lard rolling oe’r the side
Spread ‘cross the swells as though something had died
Sharks oceanic did gather to feast
When lookout at starboard was first saw the beast
He of the criss-crossing armor plate scales
Poisonous barbs at the end of three tails
Tentacles suckers come sneaking aboard
Dragging men back down to their briny lord
Serpentine kraken to bulkhead held fast
Finally snapping the ship’s central mast
Slurping the crewmembers one and by one
Wenches below prayed out loud for the sun
Master at arms raised a harpoon on high
Aiming to thrust iron barb to the eye
Hurling with force striking flush on the horn
That’s how the legend of Narwhale was born
Joseph John Racano
*Another installment in the ‘Poetry of Dragons’ collection
©@JosephJohnRacano/09/22/2020
Artwork by: SigBjorn Pederson