Adrift

There were twenty women and fourteen men

From the wreck on that tiny spit,

Lost in that mighty ocean, just a 

Mile was the most of it,

There were pigs galore from a previous crew

Who’d been wrecked some years before,

And plenty of veg, they fished from a ledge

Jutting out, and over the shore.

So in time the fourteen had paired them off

And it left, forlorn, the six,

There wasn’t a single partner left

For the girls to scratch their itch,

So they huddled up and began to plot

How to thin out the ranks of those

Who took up the men that were meant for them,

They started by shedding their clothes.

There were naked breasts that they thought would test

The men in the rival camp,

Would lure them off in the undergrowth

To lie where the earth was damp,

And it worked for some, though the men returned

To the partners they chose before,

‘The only way that they’re going to stay,’

Said the six, ‘is to go to war.’

Charmaine was found in a grove of trees

With her face, all covered in blood,

And Derek didn’t seem too displeased

He latched onto Maxine Flood,

But the thirteen said, her blood was red,

And they looked askance at the five,

‘We need to arm, and raise the alarm

If we’re going to stay alive.’

But a dozen died in the camp that night,

The soup had given them cramps,

Eleven woman had taken flight

And the one old man, called Gramps,

That left a surplus of thirteen men

And the women numbered seven,

‘There’s not enough to go round,’ they said,

But the women were in heaven.

The six bereft of the men were left

To mumble and scheme and plot,

‘We need to kill at least six of them,

Whether we want, or not!’

So late at night in the pale moonlight

There were shadows abroad in the trees,

And before the dawn, the six had gone,

Beaten down to their knees.

There were six and six, you would think it fixed,

In a year they’d be in hell,

For two of the girls lay down, were nixed

Gave birth, in a winter spell,

The men denied said they had their pride

And attacked their mates of yore.

But somehow managed to kill all three,

So now there were three and four.

‘We’ll keep the fourth in reserve,’ they said,

‘In case of a sudden death,’

But Maxine Flood was in no such mood

Though she sat, and she held her breath,

They made her fish and they made her cook

While she worked upon her wish,

And when just one of the men was gone

She fed them puffer fish.

‘Now there’s only you, and there’s only me,’

She called, when he wandered back,

Staggering into the camp, he said,

‘I’ve been in a shark attack!’

His arm was missing, he bled right out,

And died in front of her eyes,

While Maxine Flood had rolled in his blood

And cried to the empty skies.

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[TPK Stories]

Interesting tale as always. Loved reading this.

[T.S. Sky]

Interesting. I feel the disparity in the poem.

[Tony Jordan]

Dwindling resources and paranoia - sign of the times my friend.
This tasted like Lord of the Flies and that reality TV show about the two island teams up against each other but it had DLP sauce all over it which gave it zing !!

[Coyote Poetry]

A interesting tale. Desperate times create loco people. Started with many and ending with a few my friend. Thank you David for sharing the excellent tale.
Coyote

[Valentine]

David, are you going backwards into old memories or did moving wake up some of that old blood in you. This was gruesome. I thought you wrote that there was always enough to go around. Valentine

[Einstein Noodle]

aint it just like humans ..gruesome, satiricle but had to chuckle ..the math along the way threatened to jumble my addlepated brain ...so didn't even try to check you on that ;) 20 and 14 ... could have been heaven if left at that .. somehow :}
E.