Best Camp Poems
When I got home from camp today,
My parents almost died.
They asked me how I got this way,
And here's what I replied:
"This little cast from heel to hip
Is nothing much at all.
Some broken shingles made me slip
From off the dining hall.
"The poison ivy's not so bad.
It missed my back and chest.
Of course, I guess I oughta add
Mosquitoes got the rest.
"I tried to eat some hick'ry nuts
And cracked a tooth or two.
And all these bruises, scabs, and cuts?
I haven't got a clue.
"I got the lump that's on my head
From diving in the lake.
I should have watched for rocks, instead
Of grabbing for the snake.
"That leaves this bandage on my chin
And these three finger sprains,
Along with lots of sunburned skin
And sniffles from the rains.
"And oh, I got a muscle cramp
And very nearly drowned.
It's some terrific summer camp,
The coolest one around."
It’s been a long day beneath hot sun,
with sunset looming and daylight done,
came across water with a stand of trees,
deep in shadow with a zephyr breeze;
a perfect place to camp for the night,
joined by galahs in the fading light,
with swag rolled out near a cooking fire,
heating up a damper and then retire.
Stars like crystal light the outback sky,
way out here they don’t seem so high,
Dingoes howl beyond a red sand dune,
a mopoke hoots ‘neath a silver moon.
And through the night as I try to sleep,
the night feeders either call or creep,
could there be a pig or a kangaroo?
maybe a camel or an old emu.
Sunrise breaks on my morning camp,
The sky is lemon and leaves are damp.
I poke the ash and I grass the fire,
add kindling and the flames reach higher.
I hear the call of a warbling wren,
a butcherbird and a water hen.
There’s nothing better than bird song,
by a campfire near a billabong.
The billy boils for a cup of tea,
bacon and eggs sit upon my knee,
already the thermals are in the sky,
a wedge-tailed eagle is soaring high…
passing by with babbling words,
is a feeding family of apostle birds,
all quite content to stop for a chat,
as long as I feed them bacon fat.
Sunrise has lifted on my morning camp,
the suns’ in the sky, now nothing damp,
I roll my swag and I douse the fire,
with the campsite left as it was prior
for the budgerigar and the cockatoo,
or a flock of redrumps passing through.
I won’t see them for I’m on my way;
perhaps next year on another day.
He stood shivering in the biting cold
Shreds of dirty, flimsy clothes clung to his frame
All around his fellow skeletons huddled
Waiting for the inevitable walk to that sinister place
His wait had been longer than most
He had been subjected to terrible cruelty
He had seen all of his friends and family go
Yet in his mind he had remained free
His physical torment seemed detached when lost in his memories
His little girl chasing her puppy in the bright sunshine
Friends and relatives around the festive table laughing, chatting, eating
Walking hand-in-hand with his beloved around the moonlight lake
But the freezing wind jolted him back to the hellish reality
He looked towards the barbed-wire fence which bounded his world
There sat on the top wire was a little bird
It sang the sweetest of tunes seemingly just for him
It looked at him as it sang with such innocence
And then with a flutter of its tiny wings
It swooped towards him, turned and glided back over the fence
It pecked at the hard earth before flying into the woods beyond
He knew it was his time
Into that building he trudged
But he had a strange sense of elation
Closing his eyes at last he was free
The morning light shone brightly
The little bird was at his side
It guided him on as they soared through the sky
With the shackles of hell cast aside freedom now prevailed
He and the little bird would never go back to that place again
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To commemorate the liberation of Auschwitz on 27 January 1945.
Sometimes I can't believe it
It all happened so fast
Real life is truly here
Just who is that looking at me in the mirror?
How come these bills are addressed to my name?
It's like I went to sleep and woke up
And I'm all grown up
Sometimes I miss the days
When your crush had cooties, not STDs
And afternoons were spent climbing trees
And it's hard to grasp our age
Who's that man calling you "his wife"?
How come that little girl just called you Dad?
It's like I went to sleep and woke up
And we're all grown up
Sometimes the kids today
Make me feel so old when they say
They've never heard of Kurt Cobain
But I know that we're better
Cause we could fix our Nintendo in just one blow
And we all figured this out sans Twitter
It's like I went to sleep and woke up
And I'm all grown up
I remember the stupid things
Pogs and Goosebump books
Playlists were mixtapes on cassettes
And Friday nights meant TGIF on ABC
Nickelodeon was our only obsession
Friend requests were made in person
And they still showed music videos on MTV
It's like I went to sleep and woke up
And it's a different world - Nothing's the same
Cause we're all grown up
at summer camp
sharing candy necklace
with new friends
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Summer lay lazily over the land.
The languid weight of wind and water
bowing tree limbs, chasing sand
squalls over sidewalks.
Cyclist meander down aisles
of Rose of Sharon shrubbery past
banks of day lilies and Pez-purple
hydrangeas.
Tourist, colorful as the flowers,
buzz through seaside shops in flip flops
the color of Necco wafers.
Their gummy soles making sucking
sounds upon the linoleum.
In gingerbread slumber like fairy-tale children,
they gather in pink, lime-green, and purple houses.
The poor of a Christian God have become
the rich of a capitalist nation.
They hoard their paper-lantern dream.
A Reliquary Musing
A child’s doll melded into a stone in a former Nazi Death Camp
as its chilling image haunts the collective mind of those who live
in the so-called civilized world of today and who profess a hollow
concern for a child who’s long dead and who’s been completely
forgotten to the rest of the modern world.
A sad image like this one should haunt the very soul of mankind that
oft professes a political correctness as it sweeps such unpleasant images
under a bone-ridden rug that reflects a sad happenstance and mutters only
a sigh at the horrific nature of such a truly evil occurrence.
And, only Almighty God knows this sad truth.
And, now you do too.
Amen.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
June 14, 2022 (Narrative)
It was a special time of life
With my children and my wife
In a tent among the trees
At a place called Camp Louise
Sitting around a campfire Friday night
And the big old moon was shining bright
Putting marshmallows on stick ends
Just sitting, talking with some friends
Telling stoories about an old black bear
Trying to give the kids a scare
The stars were shining high above
A time filled with laughter and with love.
With our energy all spent
We crawled into our tent
The bags were musty and the tent was damp
But we loved it there at family camp
In the morning right after daybreak
You could find us boating on the lake
As we moored the boat along the pier
Right behind the shed, we saw a deer
Two more days of playing in the sun
Fishing, hiking, having fun
Plenty of food and a campfire at night
For a few days a year, the world was right.
Those days are gone and our children grown
We wonder where the time has flown
But no matter how far apart we'll be
We will always have that memory.
beneath serene and reflective night skies
gentle feelings silence each tear, each fear,
breathing in smoldering dreams who arise
rustles of stillness, spark a soft prayer.
glowing faintly beneath the moonlit night,
flames enchanting, silencing the sad sighs,
warm odors tempt the eager appetite
along the camp’s edge, before the fire dies.
stars like glitter stand in the softest clouds,
caressing heaven with easy refrains,
love getting away from the noise, the crowds,
where relaxation is all that remains.
scents of the back woods fill the heart and soul
with a tenderness that’ll make the life whole
Life is all white butterflies and yellow flowers
For the rich and blue eyed you
You want for nothing except perhaps
Teal tribulations
What do you know of amethyst angst
How it reels from your gut
And paralyzed purple souls
Vomiting violet verses of pansy poems
You lack liquid death felt by
The mother of a soft stillborn infant
How could you know peach pain
When your long lashes flash as magic wand
Instantly your wildest wishes are granted
You’ll never know hunger harm or hell
And I desperately despise you for it
Because you lack emerald empathy
You gloss over others loss as “God’s will”
Disenfranchising demise of dandelion dreams
As if death is a green gift to be opened
Your happiness is snorted in white lines up your
Nose leaving psychedelic rainbows in your spirit
An artificial light illuminates your mind
But you feel elaborately enlightened even elevated
Your life is rich your words your food even
Your grief seems scripted by gold and silver pen
The soft satin lavender lies you tell yourself
Are a jaded justification of lack of life’s joy
You dig a grave for the less fortunate in
Your poetic world full of magenta misery
Dressed up as colorful inspiration
You feed off others like a blood thirsty vampire
Never quoting never worrying at all
That AI stole your doily soul
No your rehabilitation is red white and blue
A flag burned by drug paraphernalia and
False imprisonment in cranial concentration camps
False because your mind doesn’t have to be there
You have all the tools you need to bleed
Feel reveal and write truth but
You chose not to
Your verses in ash smell of smoky hell’s dissent
I went to camp one year to feel so free
Not one of us got sick at all for sure
I went into the river to see and fish
But I was pushed into water so pure
Setup the tent to sleep the night away
With bites that itch kept up the night so sad
The next we thought an idea to try to sway
Insects that bit we net and killed so glad
We slept all night away till sun came up
The dew on tents a view I like for morning
We had a fire to warm water in cup
The drink was strong to wake us up with warning
The camp worker had said there was a fire
Among them all practiced putting it out
Bond fire was great to have this year campfire
We all was new to have much fun no doubt
Now home we go in weeks been gone delay
Running around forest so fun O.K.
Young Barred Jeff the hair once heired and was bard
from Barred Bare Camp cause when bear he was hard.
Neigh,said he in the bairn wear the auld stud nayed,
Owe, eye oh fare Merry her fair must bee paid.
Her fair's dew her an' eye'll faint with me stave.
The auld counselor feinted ass Jeff misbehaved.
My stave is like ewe just ask Merry's made
oar ask the yew in the dew; she'll bleat what eye said.
Barred Jeff maid a song witch told of his whiles
it went on two long wile marry Merry beguiled.
Know boatman with or, oar blacksmith can boar
wench better, he said, of this eye am sure.
Perhaps, a black stallion, perhaps a bold bore
butt, barred Jeff beared was the won who scored.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Young Bard Jeff the heir once erred and was barred
from Bard Bear Camp cause when bare he was hard.
Nay said he in the barn where the old stud neighed,
Oh, I owe fair Mary her fare must be paid.
Her fare's due her an' I'll feint with me stave
the old counselor fainted as Jeff misbehaved.
My stave is like yew, just ask Mary's maid
or ask the ewe in the dew it'll bleat what I said.
Bard Jeff made a song which told of his wiles
it went on too long while merry Mary beguiled.
No boatmen with oar, or blacksmith can bore
wench better, he said, of this I'm quite sure.
Perhaps, a black stallion, perhaps a bold boar,
but, Bard Jeff bared was the one who scored.
Two day tropical winter camping trip. Secluded serene scene. Gentle breeze brushes skin. Take deep breath. Country air is sweet. Bird serenade warms the heart. We sit and sigh, loving the natural high.
Venture out for a walk. See muddy wallows. Feral hogs are about. Death’s scent invades the nose. Flies buzz and maggots feast on hog’s carcass. Nature cleaning up.
Back at camp we sit, contemplate. Suddenly, we’re boom-boxed by boisterous bass beats as city jungle on wheels cruise by. Why can’t they appreciate and not defecate on tranquility?
Nightfall comes. Campfire time. Up high, heaven sprinkles starlight. We get lost in the feeling of being free.
winter rain
falls hard all night long
~tent spring leaks
It's another year of Deer Hunters' Camp
Where my friend Tom caught fire while igniting his lamp.
He screamed, 'Put me out! ' as he ran out of sight.
I yelled, 'Stop, drop and Roll... and you'll be alright!
Then there was Greg, who loved to get drunk.
He passed out in his tent, while hugging a skunk.
Him stinking so bad, it must have been hell.
So, we kept him down wind because of the smell.
Now here comes Bill, who brought us a treat.
He fed us all jerky that smelled just like feet.
We about beat him to death with a bag full of rocks
‘Cause, it wasn't deer jerky, it was hard crusty socks.
We hunted all week without any luck
Then what came into camp was the world's largest buck.
We looked at each other, beaten and tired
Then pointed our guns, but nobody fired.
We seemed to go through this year after year
And I'm never amazed why we haven't got deer.
When we all get together, the deer is the champ
But, there's always next year at Deer Hunters' Camp.
Summer Camp
Summer camp's been a win-win, this week made me grin!
What great times we had, going like mad, never sad
met playing croquet the first day of our va-cay
you're the one I had fun with each day in the sun
played awesome sports in shorts, laughed through games of all sorts
what jokes we'd make sitting by the lake, sun would bake
we swam every day at the dam, then had to scram
off to canoe, whistle blew, I'd eat lunch with you
goodbye my sweetie pie, our time has just flown by
your kiss felt right late last night. Don't forget to write!
written 17 Aug 2020