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Septicuss, the Octopus, and the tale of the Tantalus
by Kristina Woodhillthe catalyst for this odd tale
that fine October day,
was spied upon the sand's seaside
that led to Clyde's Café
a small and shriveled octopus
was dryin' on the beach,
a sharp eye counted seven arms
the eighth, a sea gull's feast
in Clyde's the sailors sat and drank
and drank and trolled their lines,
a 'reelin' in unwary marks
with words long steeped in brine
lips paused from speech and paused from drink
soft licked they were in hopes
of finding if this story's
treasure lay within their scopes
ting-ting, the ship's clock sound is true
two bells and all is well
ting-ting, and ting it sounds again
as time unfolds our tale
the Tantalus, the story wove
was given as a gift,
a token for this captain's
maiden voyage of his ship
a globe of two halves, sealed as one
a latch hid out of sight;
within, a set of glasses 'round
a stopped decanter bright
the outer surface sea-green blue
with leafed details of gold
the glasses and decanter
sparkling crystal etched and bold
now one might think the treasure was
the gold and crystal there
a priceless bit of artistry
an intrigue wed with flair
ting-ting, ting-ting – the watch is changed
four bells, look lively, men!
the sea she has that restless roll
the sky's a' mutterin'
But Captain Billy Dale would wink,
a twinkle sparked his grin;
the Tantalus he savored well
its mystery within
aye! when he popped the stopper
poured a glass and whet his thirst,
a subtle gurgle-ing be-told
more ale followed the first
the pitcher would refill itself
each time a drop was drunk,
the drink within, the captain's choice
from ale, to port, to rum
a drunken ship-wrecked memory
hard haunted Billy Dale;
he'd changed his choice of beverage
from rum to ginger ale
ting-ting, ting-ting, ting, strike the sails!
avast! now face the squall
we'll ride this storm, ya scurvy mates,
we'll meet ole Neptune's call
now Septicuss the Octopus
he loved the buttered rum,
had got a taste while laying waste
a capsized ship for fun
with sliding ease his tentacles
felt through that sunken hull,
exploring crannied crevasses
for tempting coffers, full
into the hold at last he slid,
dark depths stored tight a prize;
his tentacles and arms embraced
rum barrels' sweet surprise
the ship she took her penance there
he, drunk, dazed to all harm,
a falling beam from crushing seas
clean severed through one arm
ting-ting, ting-ting, ting-ting, six bells
their metal clanging dulled
by raging winds 'gainst snapping masts
and cresting waves vast pull
these two tales twined one summer's day
while Billy took his meal,
his steward served him deck side
with the Tantalus revealed
the ocean swelled, the steward tripped
the Tantalus rolled free,
as twilight's shawl began to pull
the day's threads westwardly
momentum met with gravity,
the Tantalus took flight
and like a cannon ball of yore
flew o'er the rail
and out of sight
the splash at sea drew Septicuss
who spied and claimed the sphere
and with its spinning, pried the latch
and drank the innards there
ting-ting, ting-ting, ting-ting, ting-ting
the ship's clock clanged its last
eight bells to mark the storm's retreat
eight bells to mark the sinking mast
the waves surrounding Billy's ship
began to change their hue
as inky, angry black soon spread
throughout the deep sea's blue
expecting rum to quench his tongue
old Septicuss recoiled,
as bubble-popping ginger ale
temptation's plotting spoiled
all seven arms with septi-force
launched high that Tantalus
and out the waves it flew, as dolphins
dodged and Septi-cussed
on Billy's ship the lookout cried,
"incoming! raise the nets!"
the spinning globe was caught and held,
the prize returned
refilled
at rest
In Clyde's the sailors stirred and nudged
this tale's end with their feet;
some laughed, some nodded thoughtfully,
some scowled and kicked it in defeat
there's much to tempt a soul in life
and many
tides that pull
arms reaching deep inside us
stretching seven ways our hull
yet like the moon anew
each waxing day returns to fill
each cup to overflowing
spill or drink, aye, drink or spill
02/21/2009
Posted on 02/21/2009
Copyright © 2025 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 02/21/09 at 09:45 PM Absolutely brilliant. |
| Posted by Rhiannon Jones on 02/21/09 at 10:34 PM I love sailors, a story, rhythm, rhyme, buttered rum, a few good laughs, and a message. And this has got 'em all. Thanks for this! |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 02/22/09 at 02:27 PM Oh I love love love this! I love its flow I love its rhyme I love its time and story.
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| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 02/22/09 at 02:28 PM "Septi-cussed" heheeeeheeeeee ;) |
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