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  • Shahzia Batool (5/6/2013 12:09:00 AM)

    Fiction, fancy, folk-lore, fairy-tales, fantasies...and a complete play of Imagination is what your poems are all about; yet i believe that life is full of many uncertainties that it likens to a myth; while existing in the modern age, there is an anachronistic feel about your world you offer in poems, in the upcoming years, when people will read it, they won't place it in 21st century poetry, rather an ageless and timeless work beyond the fever and fret of this mundane life...such a work which does not carry a label of one age is beyond the bounds of time and tide of life...it's for all ages, all times and all minds...as what is imagination if bound in the time-limit?

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  • Doug Bentley (4/18/2013 10:45:00 PM)

    This is a true accounting of how 'I' came to write the poem 'Somersault, ' and of Captain Cur's hand in it. The poem is a footnote to his 'Imagination Proclamation.'

    I couldn't sleep one night, so I went for a walk. I live near the ocean, so I walked upon the shore. A half-moon held up the star-soaked sky. I gazed into infinity.

    'Do you have the time? ' A voice, startled, I turned. I thought I was alone.
    A woman sat upon a log, half hidden by the forest, half lit by the moon. 'I never wear a watch, ' I answered, 'Who are you? '

    'Do you live here? ' she asked. 'Do you? ' I asked. She swept a finger at the sea.
    I turned to it. A fog bank, fast moving, approached. 'Who are you? ' I asked her again.

    A lightning flash! The lady stood up. I noticed she was wrapped in a body shawl covered with bird feathers.

    'BOOM! ! ! '

    A cannon blast shattered the silence, the night and my ears.

    She, now dancing sprightly, hands upraised in delight, fairly flew toward the deeps. As she passed me, our eyes locked. Hers fathomless glowed dark with mystery; mine terrified and, I swear - for an instant, I saw her eyes flash lightning, too.

    'Stop! Come back! ' I shouted. I wanted to keep her. But something held me frozen. I couldn't move, or breathe.

    She was soon beneath the waves. The fog, now suddenly luminous, within, I saw the outline of an ancient sailing ship.

    On deck stood the figure of a tall man, hands on hips, legs outstretched. An authority in this otherworld, he leaned down and held out his hand. From the waters a hand reached up to it. The man, effortlessly, lifted up and locked the hand of the mysterious dark lady whom I had met.

    They embraced, lovers unto death - and beyond.

    The fog darkened, dispersed. The night sky was clear again, sea waveless. The ship had vanished.

    My mind reeling, in a panic I stumbled back home. I bolted all the doors. Lights out, I hid myself in a corner, still trembling. Then, it happened.

    An unfamiliar candle upon my desk ignited.

    Gathering my wits, I crawled to my desk. Upon it, a scroll of yellowed, brittle parchment with these words, written in blood.

    'we are no old-fashioned heroes
    who fight a blind dragon or two
    then retire into the forest
    to warn off others in stories
    just of how dragons are slain.

    we have only litanies of loss
    to demons who never die, who
    can never be killed, (only out-
    witted, pacified, subdued) :
    each of us a library of disease.

    and who recognizes us, the crazy
    ones who live life as if it's some
    sort of perfect dive-
    a tumbling
    off the high board into free fall,
    quick somersault, waveless

    arching exit through surface?

    Welcome Aboard,
    C.C.'

    And this is a true accounting of how I first met Captain Cur.

  • Diane Hine (3/5/2013 5:52:00 PM)

    In this fine selection of poetry, you'll find bracing adventure, wicked humour, genuine horror,
    romance, sci-fi escapades, acute observations and probing explorations of human nature.
    Best read Captain Cur for youself and be amazed.

  • Unwritten Soul (9/8/2012 6:54:00 AM)

    He maybe a pirate, maybe far from people in the middle of the seven seas...but i always has trust in him, he really funny with only his single eyed open, parrot even not dare to speak loud to respect his wise, through the sea adventure i am sure this is a long horizon that he gained lot of experiences in writing sharing his days and night. Talents in his shiny crescent metal hook never fade his talent, because he is not an ordinary pirate, He raised his life with confidence, with sharp eyes and the most gentle pirate among others pirate over the seven seas. I will never have a doubt to sail with him and Lady Muse as i know he will lead me to a nice journey....at least in his poetry that he send me in bottles, i picked up everyday to read and see what he see..keep writing poem, your loyal crew_Unwritten Soul

  • Ellias Anderson (9/8/2012 2:17:00 AM)

    The captain of the mad seas and the captain of wise minds. the man who will fight through the blue seas to find the truth.
    A wise mind.

  • Steve Broown (9/7/2012 8:13:00 PM)

    3 hour tour, the weather started getting rough the tiny ship was rocked, if not for the courageous of captain cur the minnow would be lost!

  • The Reader (8/28/2012 12:58:00 AM)

    The sea is a mystery …Life is a mystery too.there have been many poets & writers in the record of literature who explored life through the symbol of the sea …Captain Cur is a modern voice with all the timeless & ageless incomprehensibility as shown in the profile facts & figures …his style of exploring the life is like the sea itself: deep, enigmatic, perilous & unpredictable …but highly imaginative …all the best for his heated imagination, fertile mind & prolific creativity.

Demon Seas, Part 2

Lightening shears the darkened skies
exposing faceless demons
whose voices roll and echoes long
express their morbid treason

against god, against man,
as they mount each rising swell
that smashes down my stricken ship
with the waterfalls of hell.

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