St. Elmo's Fire (Final 2007 Revision)
St. Elmo’s Fire
Authors Note: This was my final revision done in 2007. As I said there is some argument as to whether the first draft, or this fourth draft is better. Please share your opinion with me. Wolf ,'', ^@@^ ,'',
Beneath the sea lay mysteries,
of things which are not told.
Perhaps the beast of yesteryear
in unreachable depths do roam.
This tale is not of depths of sea,
nor creatures that lay within.
Tis a tale of disappearances,
which do happen without end.
Twenty men in storm locked waters,
cower within a fishing boat.
Inside their wooden shelter,
Unseen hands quest and grope.
Their sails are battened and tethered,
against the storms great fury.
Not a man among them braves to rise,
for any called upon duty.
These are not men easily cowed,
they are sailors and quite sturdy.
Any man amongst them by you,
be considered to be quite burly.
Their minds however are under attack,
by things normally not found in nature.
Forces that would lay down the sturdiest man,
with no regard to rank or stature.
Every thing about them is different,
yet ever like the sea the same.
Yet something within the heart of them,
has been corrupted and is now changed.
For though now they lay in darkness,
of a black and unnatural night,
mere minutes ago had been six bells,
in a day, which had dawned bright.
Joyfully had they laid about the ship,
with line and hook and spilling net;
boisterous voices calling happily out,
as all their traps were laid and set.
Yet Poseidon or the sea had other ideas,
seemingly had set a trap of It’s own,
within the triangle called Bermuda,
where many strange things do roam.
First the dead fish lifted from the deep,
whereon to float upon the waters.
The Sea began to diffusely glow,
as the brightening sky grew ever darker.
The sails boomed and filled with wind,
Where before had been only a breeze.
Then the first Two men were lost overboard,
to rest in their graves within deeps.
The rest of the men recalled to duty,
for the sails as the masts did bend;
and if the mast snapped upon itself,
then surely that would be the end.
The Radioman sent calls for help,
though he was screaming frantically.
Sadly his cries did go unheeded except,
by Poseidon beneath the waves of the Sea.
The motors of the ship rumbled to life,
The sails be battened snug and tight;
Then roaring and spewing sparks and smoke,
Blew asunder and took another life.
The rain screamed down in twisted knots,
like ropes of needles blended with ice.
The men now took shelter within the hold,
of a ship now filled with terror and fright.
They huddled now upon wooden planks,
for they were afraid of all things of metal.
Because things of metal now threw sparks,
hissing and spitting like a kettle.
Two men had heeded the Captain not,
Refusing his order to remove watch and ring,
They lay curled now upon the planks,
writhing in a death dance of agony.
None dared to touch or help them now,
Lest risk suffering the same terrible fate.
They looked upon their dying comrades,
with a mixture of pity; a pinch of hate.
The horrible dance finally came to an end,
Yet the horrible stench lingered in the air.
Though they wanted to feel sorry for the lost
Sadly, in truth they no longer cared.
Where before there had been twenty-three,
there now merely survived a scant eighteen.
Sitting circled holding hands like children,
and they were touching knee to knee.
Singing songs they had learned in church,
Some praying aloud, and some silently.
Songs they had thought long forgotten,
In their long harsh lives upon the sea.
Tears streamed down their weathered faces,
As their masks of death slid into place.
They now made peace with their maker,
accepting their deaths with a pinch of grace.
Any hopes and dreams were now abandoned,
they settled their sins and began to wait.
For the end of terror, the end of life,
the final moment which would seal their fate.
Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick.
Sweat streamed freely and time stood still,
as the moments passed in a mired fashion.
Time itself seemed to pause each breath,
like each single moment of a lovers passion.
The dreadful rocking began to ebb;
the wind died then with a echoing gasp.
The first mate the bravest among them all,
rose from addressing his painful past.
Then he screamed out yet not in pain,
but with a deep seeded sound of elation.
He danced around like a man possessed,
by a kind of weird and wonderful jubilation.
“Captain,” he begged, “look yonder say I,
“look all of you, Tis St. Elmo’s Fire!”
Indeed he was right for now in their sight,
was the ship wrapped in streams like a pyre.
The Patron Saint had answered their prayers,
and had now hoisted he his brilliant colors.
A thing rumored he does over troubled ships,
he chooses to protect, as a father or brother.
The Saint danced upon the mast, the rail,
he circled around metal rails and staves.
He danced to music only heard by sailors,
whom now danced the dance of the brave.
Singing colored streamers and spheres,
now abounded gently throughout the ship.
Embracing the battered surviving souls,
as heartfelt thanks poured from their lips.
The darkness shrank, dispelled and lightened,
coalescing into a soft white mist;
which as it rose up from the water,
formed the semblance of a shaking fist.
Saint Erasmus of Formiae laughed gently,
As Poseidon and Death did unhappily sigh.
The Devil Jonah in Davy Jones locker,
cheated again of his prey began to cry.
Encased in the beauty of St. Elmo’s fire,
the ship was bourn now quickly away;
With its cargo of eighteen jubilant sailors,
who still swear to it; even to this day.
Now you however, may not believe it,
truthfully you I cannot say I blame;
yet five hardy sailors beneath my command,
do reside now within a watery grave.
And I myself ,attend a church of choice;
One gifted with a very high spire.
Around my neck there rests a medallion,
Depicting of course...
St. Elmo...and... his Fire.
Created by ANTHONY HOTOPP
@OriginalCywolf@yahoo.com
all rights reserved by ACH incorporated ach unpublished works 2001
Second Draft Revision 06/23/07
Third Draft (Updated Format) July 4th, 2007
Forth Draft (Updated Format) July 19, 2007
Created By: Anthony Hotopp
All Rights Reserved: Copyright by ACH Inc.: Unpublished Works 2007
originalcywolf@hotmail.com originalcywolf2001@yahoo.com
Also the following subsidiaries: knight_in_shining_karmaa enterprises ltd.:
Hidie Pipes: Make Ready’s Inc.: Hidd-In Concepts: All divisions of: Ach Inc.
and introducing:
,’’, ^@@^ ,’’,Wolf Productions Inc.: a new subsidiary of ACH Inc.
Fifth Draft (No Revision)
Created By: Anthony Hotopp
All Rights Reserved: Copyright by ACH Inc.: Unpublished Works 2009 originalcywolf@hotmail.com originalcywolf2001@yahoo.com Also the following subsidiaries : knight_in_shining_karmaa enterprises ltd.: Hidie Pipes: Make Ready’s Inc.: Hidd-In Concepts: All divisions of: Ach Inc. and introducing:
,’’, ^@@^ ,’’,Wolf Productions Inc.: a new subsidiary of ACH Inc.
Authors Note: This was my final revision done in 2007. As I said there is some argument as to whether the first draft, or this fourth draft is better. Please share your opinion with me. Wolf ,'', ^@@^ ,'',
Beneath the sea lay mysteries,
of things which are not told.
Perhaps the beast of yesteryear
in unreachable depths do roam.
This tale is not of depths of sea,
nor creatures that lay within.
Tis a tale of disappearances,
which do happen without end.
Twenty men in storm locked waters,
cower within a fishing boat.
Inside their wooden shelter,
Unseen hands quest and grope.
Their sails are battened and tethered,
against the storms great fury.
Not a man among them braves to rise,
for any called upon duty.
These are not men easily cowed,
they are sailors and quite sturdy.
Any man amongst them by you,
be considered to be quite burly.
Their minds however are under attack,
by things normally not found in nature.
Forces that would lay down the sturdiest man,
with no regard to rank or stature.
Every thing about them is different,
yet ever like the sea the same.
Yet something within the heart of them,
has been corrupted and is now changed.
For though now they lay in darkness,
of a black and unnatural night,
mere minutes ago had been six bells,
in a day, which had dawned bright.
Joyfully had they laid about the ship,
with line and hook and spilling net;
boisterous voices calling happily out,
as all their traps were laid and set.
Yet Poseidon or the sea had other ideas,
seemingly had set a trap of It’s own,
within the triangle called Bermuda,
where many strange things do roam.
First the dead fish lifted from the deep,
whereon to float upon the waters.
The Sea began to diffusely glow,
as the brightening sky grew ever darker.
The sails boomed and filled with wind,
Where before had been only a breeze.
Then the first Two men were lost overboard,
to rest in their graves within deeps.
The rest of the men recalled to duty,
for the sails as the masts did bend;
and if the mast snapped upon itself,
then surely that would be the end.
The Radioman sent calls for help,
though he was screaming frantically.
Sadly his cries did go unheeded except,
by Poseidon beneath the waves of the Sea.
The motors of the ship rumbled to life,
The sails be battened snug and tight;
Then roaring and spewing sparks and smoke,
Blew asunder and took another life.
The rain screamed down in twisted knots,
like ropes of needles blended with ice.
The men now took shelter within the hold,
of a ship now filled with terror and fright.
They huddled now upon wooden planks,
for they were afraid of all things of metal.
Because things of metal now threw sparks,
hissing and spitting like a kettle.
Two men had heeded the Captain not,
Refusing his order to remove watch and ring,
They lay curled now upon the planks,
writhing in a death dance of agony.
None dared to touch or help them now,
Lest risk suffering the same terrible fate.
They looked upon their dying comrades,
with a mixture of pity; a pinch of hate.
The horrible dance finally came to an end,
Yet the horrible stench lingered in the air.
Though they wanted to feel sorry for the lost
Sadly, in truth they no longer cared.
Where before there had been twenty-three,
there now merely survived a scant eighteen.
Sitting circled holding hands like children,
and they were touching knee to knee.
Singing songs they had learned in church,
Some praying aloud, and some silently.
Songs they had thought long forgotten,
In their long harsh lives upon the sea.
Tears streamed down their weathered faces,
As their masks of death slid into place.
They now made peace with their maker,
accepting their deaths with a pinch of grace.
Any hopes and dreams were now abandoned,
they settled their sins and began to wait.
For the end of terror, the end of life,
the final moment which would seal their fate.
Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick.
Sweat streamed freely and time stood still,
as the moments passed in a mired fashion.
Time itself seemed to pause each breath,
like each single moment of a lovers passion.
The dreadful rocking began to ebb;
the wind died then with a echoing gasp.
The first mate the bravest among them all,
rose from addressing his painful past.
Then he screamed out yet not in pain,
but with a deep seeded sound of elation.
He danced around like a man possessed,
by a kind of weird and wonderful jubilation.
“Captain,” he begged, “look yonder say I,
“look all of you, Tis St. Elmo’s Fire!”
Indeed he was right for now in their sight,
was the ship wrapped in streams like a pyre.
The Patron Saint had answered their prayers,
and had now hoisted he his brilliant colors.
A thing rumored he does over troubled ships,
he chooses to protect, as a father or brother.
The Saint danced upon the mast, the rail,
he circled around metal rails and staves.
He danced to music only heard by sailors,
whom now danced the dance of the brave.
Singing colored streamers and spheres,
now abounded gently throughout the ship.
Embracing the battered surviving souls,
as heartfelt thanks poured from their lips.
The darkness shrank, dispelled and lightened,
coalescing into a soft white mist;
which as it rose up from the water,
formed the semblance of a shaking fist.
Saint Erasmus of Formiae laughed gently,
As Poseidon and Death did unhappily sigh.
The Devil Jonah in Davy Jones locker,
cheated again of his prey began to cry.
Encased in the beauty of St. Elmo’s fire,
the ship was bourn now quickly away;
With its cargo of eighteen jubilant sailors,
who still swear to it; even to this day.
Now you however, may not believe it,
truthfully you I cannot say I blame;
yet five hardy sailors beneath my command,
do reside now within a watery grave.
And I myself ,attend a church of choice;
One gifted with a very high spire.
Around my neck there rests a medallion,
Depicting of course...
St. Elmo...and... his Fire.
Created by ANTHONY HOTOPP
@OriginalCywolf@yahoo.com
all rights reserved by ACH incorporated ach unpublished works 2001
Second Draft Revision 06/23/07
Third Draft (Updated Format) July 4th, 2007
Forth Draft (Updated Format) July 19, 2007
Created By: Anthony Hotopp
All Rights Reserved: Copyright by ACH Inc.: Unpublished Works 2007
originalcywolf@hotmail.com originalcywolf2001@yahoo.com
Also the following subsidiaries: knight_in_shining_karmaa enterprises ltd.:
Hidie Pipes: Make Ready’s Inc.: Hidd-In Concepts: All divisions of: Ach Inc.
and introducing:
,’’, ^@@^ ,’’,Wolf Productions Inc.: a new subsidiary of ACH Inc.
Fifth Draft (No Revision)
Created By: Anthony Hotopp
All Rights Reserved: Copyright by ACH Inc.: Unpublished Works 2009 originalcywolf@hotmail.com originalcywolf2001@yahoo.com Also the following subsidiaries : knight_in_shining_karmaa enterprises ltd.: Hidie Pipes: Make Ready’s Inc.: Hidd-In Concepts: All divisions of: Ach Inc. and introducing:
,’’, ^@@^ ,’’,Wolf Productions Inc.: a new subsidiary of ACH Inc.
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