A Foggy Night On An Abandoned Wharf

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Be mindful on your midnight stroll near the waterfront cool and dark, an inland fog like a dungeon of mist will leave you barren, desolate, and stark. Be careful where you place your feet, many wharf rats you will meet, they’ll be dragging maggoty fish heads into holes, or doing trapeze acts upon the slimy poles. Be mindful on your wayward walk, it’s easy to slip and fall and drown in the murky dock. ~ Poet Stoker

Beck’s Last Beer

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The gawking crowd watched on in amazement that day as another drowned body was taken away,
In a failed attempt to skip from ship to shore he’d lost his footing and was seen no more,
Mr. Beck he was a good old man but too many times he’d had drinks in his hand,
A Ten Penny beer in his back pocket was clear, and his body was dressed in white turtle neck gear,
Beck’s bloated body was all that remained of his beautiful soul that night in the rain,
Macabrely they paddled in their little row boat until nearing Becks’ body which was close by and afloat,
Beck’s death grip was pried loose from the slimy-green-spiles, as his two grown sons, Kenny And Neil, stood silently weeping a while,
What a way to say goodbye to your dad, god bless their souls, Father raised out of the harbor by hook and by pole. ~ Poet Stoker

*Dedicated to the late Clarence Beck, RIP.

Written By @cagestokerblog