Little boys see danger
Where there is only a tree
Little boys see adventure
While escaping responsibility
Little boys grow up and make for great adventurers
But, have you ever stopped to wonder,
When they’re out shaking hands with death
If, when their body comes back, their heart’s all asunder
From Portugal to India, you opened the world, but,
Did you call out for your mama?
When on your death-bed with malaria,
Oh, explorer-great, Vasco de Gama?
You can circumnavigate with the best, Ferdinand Magellan
You sail with seemingly no hint of fear
But you couldn’t circumnavigate your need for a hug
As you died, pierced, by a bamboo spear
Here, fishy, fishy!, heeeere, fishy, fishy, fishy!
Where did you go, Jacques Cousteau?
And where are you now, exploring still?
Or are you cuddled up with a throw pillow?
Aging is terrible, said the fountain of youth, laughing
A quest to find it was the aim of Juan Ponce de Leon
He failed, dying of an arrow wound, and reconnecting with his youth:
The fetal position is great for when you’re poisoned and alone
Adventurers embrace risks and danger
They will go down in history’s annals
Often so close to their goals …
They only lacked stuffed animals
So … I really like this idea, but I don’t like this poem much. I’m throwing it out there with the best of intentions to re-write it at a future date. Really, being an explorer would be craaaaazy scary. And these guys (except Cousteau, the only modern one in this bunch) kept dying in foreign lands! (Not for no reason, they were often taking “unclaimed’ lands and killing or converting as they saw fit.)
Anywho, it’s “funny” (maybe interesting is a better word) to think of explorers dying, sad and lonely, in far-away places after living an incredibly tough-guy, amazing life.
Also I don’t like the concluding verse … But I chose to watch the basketball game rather than think about it. GO LOUISVILLE!