The Tattooed Man

He looked like a common sailor

As he wandered up from the port,

Carried his swag on his shoulder,

Wore a cap of the jaunty sort,

His eyes were livid and bloodshot,

Staring, under a tattooed brow,

And on his cheeks, a scatter of stars

As seen from an old ship's prow.

 

He stopped at the Mariners Arms

And bought a room on the upper floor,

Went out and stood on the balcony,

And stared on down at the square,

He'd left his shirt in the tiny room,

His torso, full in view,

There wasn't an inch of his sailor skin

Untouched by a bright tattoo.

 

His arms were covered in serpents

Writhing up, and under his chin,

His shoulders, Chinese Characters,

Of Ports, where he might have been,

His sides were covered in fungi

Found in tropical forest glades,

And down on his muscular midriff

The ubiquitous Queen of Spades.

 

And there on his chest in colours

Very subtle, and so refined,

There lay a naked woman

Baring all as she lay reclined,

Her lips were coloured in scarlet gloss

And pursed in a sensual pout,

Her eyes a searching, brilliant blue

That would find her lover out.

 

He turned away from the village square

And rested back on the rail,

So now the tattoos across his back

Could be seen... a Schooner's sail,

With storm-filled clouds and a rising swell

As the breakers slid on by,

And over the top, above it all

A piercing, staring eye!

 

For every passer-by that stared

The eye had stared them back,

Had stared right into the guilty soul

Where every sin was black!

And hairs rose up on the back of the neck,

And shivers ran down the spine,

As guilt drove men to the 'Man of War'

To drown their fears in wine!

 

And I... I came to the Mariners Arms

And I saw the tattoos there,

And the woman, bared on the sailor's chest

Made me quake and shake in fear,

For the face was unmistakable,

I had left her safe at home,

That face of lust was the woman I trust,

Was the wife I knew as Joan.

 

For days the sailor prowled the streets

And he peered through windows there,

But he never wore a shirt nor coat,

And he kept his torso bare,

The tattoos seemed to come to life

As he moved, they moved with him,

I saw the serpents flickering tongues

Reach out, and under his chin!

 

And from his back, the eye stared out

Made strong men weak and quail,

Their knees gave way as it stared them down

And they felt their courage fail,

Then Joan saw him in the market place,

And stood there, hypnotized,

As she stared at the face on the sailor's chest,

And he pierced her, with his eyes.

 

I saw her enter the Mariners Arms

And I tried to call her back,

But she walked like one in a crazy dream

And I heard her call him, 'Jack...'

They disappeared up the stairway,

Made their way to the upper floor,

I had raced to the top of the stairs when they

Went in, and locked the door.

 

Out in the street, the clouds rolled in

And the sea beat up on the shore,

The rain came down in a torrent,

Lightning flashed at the old Inn door,

Then he came out on the balcony,

Turned round, and showed his back,

Clung to the mast of the Schooner

There was a woman, dressed in black!

 

I followed the sailor down the street

In the wind and the pouring rain,

As lightning lit the storm on his back

And the woman screamed in pain,

But on his chest was an open space

And the eye had stared me down,

As he boarded a battered Schooner,

And then sailed away from the town!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Ellen Hammond]

I love your intriguing tales with their twists and turns. This one just grabbed my attention and held it to the end, which seemed to come all too soon because I was so wrapped up in the story. Wonderfully witted and penned with your special flair. Love it!

[Nina C Palmer]

Wow, I really love this poem. I love rhyming stories and this one kept my attention all the way through. Bravo, and congrats on winning the contest!

[Mark]

GADZOOKS!!
His tattoos both helped him find and deal justice unto she who had been unfaithful both to her husband and himself?
Her portrait moved from his chest to the yardarm on his back, as his vengeance/justice was wrought?
MERCIFUL GRACIOUS!!

[J.P. Bristow]

wow this was incredible into my favs...what a story!!! fantastic!!!!

I love this piece, it reminds me of the old Australian poets of past. A fantastic read. :)

[Doreen]

Oh, that was fantastic. I love your stories and the ease in which you tell them. Your tales keep me mesmerized and your twists raise a brow. Lovely!

[Valentine]

So the trusting man at home never gets to see his beloved again...now I know why my brother made a career out of the navy all of those years..luckily..very few tatoos..Nice one as always mate..Missing you lately..lola nd God bless Lyn and you..Kathie

[Lena M. P.]

An evil twist of mystical and malarkey. I always felt there was something a bit old about people who covered themselves with tattoos although this fellow seemed to map out others destiny's with his.

[Ferg]

Interesting tale, David. Reminds me a bit of Dorian Gray in that the tattoos have a life of their own, like the picture that aged. Your usual level of expertise is evident in this piece.......classic eerie twist at the end......clever as always!