Best Campground Poems
Down past the meadow is the grand old hotel.
Where statues of marble encircle the ponds
Tall cypress line up like soldiers at arms,
saluting each limo that comes down the hill
Limousines arrive daily, like vultures of prey,
to stop and eject their catch of the day
There is proof on arrival, of fortune and assets.
Hosts greet each guest, as the day stretches on,
sporting long coat-tails and red satin vests
As we watched from our hillside, from a vast world away,
we're inclined to walk down, to take a survey
Too rich for our blood! We are flooded with awe
Yet, we're drawn to peek in. Where the rich wine and dine
and we will try, most discreetly, to blend into grey.
Alabaster stone gates, and the thick sculptured stairs
are reeking affluence, that we'll never share
__
Heading back to our campground, on the river's west side,
we returned to our tent, tucked under the pines
It's been faded by sunlight, patched together with twine
Where contentment is canvas, and the wind is a song,
and where water makes music, and the breeze is a poem
Our belongings are in order, (in a disorderly way)
A camp-stove, a lantern, for the end of the day
A tent, (army surplus)…. and a stack of dry wood
will add to our comfort, as well as it should
Would we want to change places, if ever we tried?
Would we trade all our moonscapes, or the chipmunks, or tunes?
As we sat by the fire, to remember our day
We have watched the bright embers, as they floated away
Pinpricks of fire that mixed with the stars
We've been granted our millions, ….while owning the sky.
Categories:
campground, culture, happiness, introspection, money,
Form:
Free verse
Two weeks of summer camping we spent
Helping mom and dad pitch the tent
Sweet memories of campfires and s'mores
Enjoying time in the great outdoors
Walking the trails on nature hikes
Around the campground riding our bikes
Sing alongs around the campfire
Hot cocoa and a kiss before we retire
Giggling 'cause we couldn't sleep
Telling each other secrets to keep
Rising to the smell of pancakes on the griddle
Searching for the right stick to whittle
Hunting the woods for little treasures
Pinecones,leaves and a couple of bird feathers
Go to the beach water splashing
Smiles for the camera we were flashing
Packing the car time to head home
Didn't want to leave we all groan
But we have memories of campfires and s'mores
Enjoying time in the great outdoors
- C.A.Saputo xoxo
Some of my fondest memories as a child were the two weeks we spent camping every summer! :)
Categories:
campground, childhood, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
I frowned when I found my new pup was gone,
so, I searched all around for my little foxhound,
listening with profound intensity until dawn.
I was gowned but changed; headed to the pound,
in the eastbound lane that would take me there.
I yelled to expound, '"There's no time to spare!"
Traffic moved slowly, so I found a way round it,
now westbound, my nerves were coiled and wound.
I stopped at a campground and called his name, "Jit!"
I heard no barks or mewling. Not a single sound.
Pup, where are you? Hiding behind a hill or mound?
Did you dig holes in the ground, earthy and browned?
Pup, if you're lost, in salty tears I would be drowned.
Fears abound that I would never see his face again.
My spirits low, not much further can they be downed.
I heard, "Woof!" and my heart beat in quick refrain...
Quickly, Jit ran to me, faster than a racing greyhound!
All this time he'd been asleep in my car's backseat.
My pup continues to astound me with kisses so sweet.
He follows me everywhere, hoping for a doggie treat!
~ April 26, 2022 ~
Nursery Rhyme 3 Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
Categories:
campground, dog,
Form:
Rhyme
I'm on my way to Butte Montana,
where the mountains reach the sky,
and the eagles soar way up high,
folks are friendly and give you a smile,
it's the Montana way of saying stay awhile.
I'm on my way to Butte Montana,
need a change of scenery,
where the forests are full of greenery,
ranches spread throughout the land,
cowboys on horses roping calves to brand.
I'm on my way to Butte Montana,
it is where I am bound,
praying a job will be found,
my lonely saddle needs a horse to ride
so I can rope cattle with some pride.
I'm on my way to Butte Montana,
with shiny boots and a new ten-gallon hat,
making me feel like a big fat cat,
as I act like a polite and handsome dude
so all the ladies will not find me rude.
I'm on my way to Butte Montana,
staying a night at a KOA Campground
with folks who are from all around,
sharing a campfire with sparkling and glowing heat,
knowing this is the life that cannot be beat.
Categories:
campground,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
Never been to a festival before
But agreed to go with AL to Weiser
I had no idea what was in store
The way Al described it, was a teaser
The Weiser Festival is a week long
We stayed in Al’s camper; kept the cost down
On this kind of trip, I couldn’t go wrong
All night playing music in the campground
I mostly played folk, wasn’t bluegrass wise
I’d had the mandolin less than a year
We stopped on the way and bought our supplies
And that included four cases of beer
Al said, “When the campground picking begins,
“Playing circles will be formed all about”
“If the group is tight, you don’t just barge in”
Join an outer circle and check things out”
That first night, I couldn’t believe my eyes
From circle to circle the pickers go
The whole jamming scene was homogenized
I just stuck with Al and went with the flow
The music’s was great, joined in where I could
But playing Bluegrass isn’t that easy
In bed at four, couldn’t go when I should
Couldn't sleep, the music wouldn’t let me
Sleep half the day; take it slow; there’s no strife
You’re ready for the picking to begin
I got hooked, that night, on bluegrass for life
And given a choice, I’d do it again
A hot bluegrass band had a circle tight
Al had set it up for me to enter
I didn’t know Al had made it alright
But there I was, in circle’s dead center
Inside that circle, music all around
An experience that no one can buy
Before long I was consumed by the sound
I experienced a “musical high”
That’s how I got hooked; became such a fan
Before I knew it, Bluegrass became king
Now today, I have my own Bluegrass band
I'm playing the music; doing my thing!
Categories:
campground, music, music, music,
Form:
Quatrain
Forking River Dam, Illinois
Forking River
CharlaXFabels
Forking Dam
Forking,Ill.
189
John M went camping and took his friend Timmy. Off they went to the Forking River Dam. They
went to the Forking Campground near the Forking Dam. They decided to visit the Forking City.
They had to go to the Forking Market. It was near the Forking Gas Station closer to the
furcating
Forking River bending near the Forking swamp turning into the Forking Quicksanding place
there where they turned off the Main Forking Road. They turned Forking right there. There
is a
Forking left turn as well but they had to get to the Forking Store. They bought some
Forking Beer
made in the Forking Brewery. They were still in Illinois. Forking, Ill. Ill is the
abbreviation for
Illinois, so we aer all Forking, Ill. For now. The men were Forking camping so they bought
some
Forking beans made at the Forking beanery. The Forking Meat CO. provided. The Olympic
branch of the Mount Olympus Water CO. Donated the Forking Water. They went to the Forking
River Motel to steal the soap and the towels. They paid for the room and took two Forking Dam
showers. They kept the Forking Dam Ashtray. It has a picture of the Forking Dam River. The
Forking Dam Police were searching for the Forking Dam Campground to arrest the Forking
men. They were not from Forking at all but just out of townies they had come to Forking
Dam to
Fish for Forking Fish. They went to the Forking Boat Dock and rented a Forking Boat the
Indian
Man in charge of the Forking Boat Dock said you out of townies speak with Forking tongue. But
money green in Forking Dam. Good to see you Forking men. The Men in Forking Dam City are
Forking gay. The Forking City Future Club is Oddfellows Hall.
Eye am Forking, Ill. From all that Forking Fish they gave to me the nibbles and the bites
the love
all tied up in Forking Ville. They said that visit day is FrYdaY at the Forking Prison
Institution they
have a Forking Fish fry for religion they want me to go to Forking, Ill. And visit.
Categories:
campground, holiday, imagination, on writing
Form:
Prose Poetry
Oh let me sing of the river's people
No, not holiday boaters, but those rare few
Whose homes and hearts embrace the river,
Trafficking in all that she so blithely carries.
Backyards a port of entry for wayward canoeists
Seeking naught but groceries and Dr. Peppers,
Well, maybe an occasional Dairy Queen as well.
Dinners, showers, homes left open, conversations,
Tales of those who came before, war stories,
Worn proudly as they counted victory and loss as well,
Fodder of a life well lived, trophies of significance
Those who wrote to thank them, those who didn't.
I see now too that I myself was not grateful enough,
The safety of a home's backyard is holy ground.
Once as dusk was stooping lower
River banks loomed high above us
Blocking view of a good night's campground
I spied tire tracks suggesting boat ramp
And pulled ashore to check it out.
Found above game warden's yard and home.
He drove us 30 miles to replace used camera film. (9)
Poet's Notes:
(9) The hospitality and generosity of the Minnesotan people we met on this trip was for me almost beyond belief. We truly were treated like celebrities.
Categories:
campground, boat, dream, journey, nature,
Form:
Blank verse
Conner woke up in his hotel
and looked to the small clock.
He’d slept through his early alarm,
it was later than he thought.
He leapt up and quickly dressed,
for he had a job to do,
so he pulled on his camo pants,
and readied his rifle too.
A problem bear wandered about
this small, Wyoming town.
A grizzly, it had killed three dogs,
twas his job to bring it down.
The bear population had thrived of late,
so this happened more and more,
Fish and Game would send him out
to do what some deplored.
Like the protesters who’s dogged him
the last two days on the trail,
making noise so any close game
would hear them and turn tail.
They said killing the bear was cruel,
they were here to protect it,
so Conner had tried to wake early
to avid them on this trip.
He expected to see all of them
when he went out to his truck,
Instead he saw nary a soul,
he cold not believe his luck!
He drove then to a patch of forest
near the town’s big campground,
sightings here had him convinced
that the grizzly was lurking ‘round.
Into evergreen woods he strode,
past boulders gray and tall,
though steep ravines and parklands
wearing the coat of early fall.
For two hours he had no luck
looking for tracks or sign.
No scat, no fur, nothing at all,
he feared he'd wasted time.
Then he saw a trail of fresh prints
straight through the piney duff,
and from a thicket to his left
came a raspy, guttural huff.
He peered deep, saw the brown head
of a massive grizzly’s bear
If fed on something, big teeth stained
with a slick, crimson veneer.
It paused then, sniffing the air,
seeing not Conner on the hunt.
He hoisted his rifle, sliding left,
carefully sighting the gun...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Categories:
campground, adventure, dark, death, judgement,
Form:
Narrative
That ole' rag mop, the handle's fine,
this is the second, my gold mine,
floors should be vinyl, camper tight
with incidentals, grab & sight!
A new Lab puppy, doorstep night,
left nine (9) a squawking, late, not right ~
cop picked up gently, took inside
first time a tear came, lost my fright!
Now six+ months, growing, I kept one,
a shelter drove here, Texas lass
so grateful, I thought that's real class,
took eight (8) away, all crying, fast!
Not looking back, the "one" is work
she'd chew the lightning from a storm
don't matter what it is, she's prone
to tear it up, still's not fake bone!
I call her, Koda, meaning friend
she always licks your face, say when,
a River campground, easy spend
some playground ethics, still open!
Full grown in six months, but can
I keep the picture, not offend,
called the relation, they say "when"
a full blown "yes" would help this trend!
Are puppys God sends, teach us lots
to watch this energy, we've got
to put them first, the eating list
and not rehearse this "same old grit!"
The trek inside, but yards, "yo ho"
there's more to out there, then just mow
a chewing space, in one big store
the tie ups help, but Lord, Oh Lo!
The jumping, nipping come often
especially when a friend comes by
Could use a "trainer" Sit and Down,
or even learned advice compound!
Retriever Lab, her namesake's breed
can find the "fowl" in River's lead
but growing Season, time's the Creed
learning obedience, not recede!
So help me Poets, where's your stake
at finding lost creation's sake,
advice so welcome, need a break
at hunting dog's conditioned sake!
Abandonment ~ Nine (9) three week old puppies,
left on front porch in freezing weather! It's scary,
they cry like any baby might!
Making friends this way is so heart wrenching!
Neighbors, so helpful. One couple really donated
so much of their energy, bringing extra home made food!
Now, I know, after six+ months, how this tiny pink
and white Labrador pup opened so many doors to kindness,
I never ever expected, last January!
Categories:
campground, animal, best friend, pets,
Form:
Monorhyme
I have to ask the question of old, how did the trolls move west?
How did they sneak across the ocean, and to the old Midwest?
How did the Trolls come our way, then into our basement to sleep?
Covered wagons, or out of the dark how did they slowly creep?
Perhaps it was the cavemen who led them here on a frozen ocean bridge?
Or were they disguised as Vikings instead, enjoying a little pillage?
I believe they came to see how the Midwest Whale Herding is being done.
They can’t resist a bronco binge of riding with our whale herdsmen.
But then, I might ask what inspired those dragons, to also come along?
Maybe the trolls rode them over, while singing their merry songs.
It seems the dragons have found the caves nearby, and decided to stay.
Thank goodness the trolls didn’t invite them into my basement, that day.
But those caves had all sort of critters, which now all seem rather put out.
The other day, they came down the hill to my garden, in a really big huff.
It looks like they all have plans, for to my garden they came right away.
And it does get kind of smoky… where a dragon decides to lay.
I say, why not let them stay? For if my hubby can have trolls in the basement…
Why not have all these friends? It’ll be OK and such, for we can all be decent…
Gnomes protecting my garden, and dwarfs mining the hillside, and other stuff…
Bears are in our stream and garage that now has bats in the belfry, a fancy touch?
Ye old whales are a tourist attraction in our lake, as is swimming with the dolphins.
The Bait N Tackle shop’s selling food for the whales, dragons, and all, so much fun!
Dragons make an occasional fly by, for the tourists doing somersaults, such hams…
Life’s become so fun and exciting… certainly this can’t be too much to have…
Trolls were useful to get the gargoyles into public office to lead the way.
Gargoyles make great policemen and one became The Mayor just the other day.
Our community is fastly growing, as I spied an elf within the woods, it’s true.
We’ll be more popular than Six Flags… when the Elvin campground opens soon.
Categories:
campground, adventure, fantasy, friendship, funny,
Form:
Light Verse
(Contest Rules: Use as many words that sound like:
bound, browned, clowned, crowned, drowned, found
frowned, gowned, ground, hound, mound, pound,
round).
On the forest ground, Fred quickly found
a small bird downed and interwound
inside a nest mound- brown twig bound;
looking around- she chirped a sound.
Inbound winds made the nest unbound!
The bird was round, blue feather-gowned,
and must go homebound to rebound-
away from hounds in the campground.
Now, in the background, was a foxhound!
Fred, helmet-crowned- with bird spellbound
inside downed nest- climbed up, branch-bound,
to rebound nest a safe compound.
The once-downed bird chirped thanks abound!
The newfound branch was safe and sound!
For turnaround, Fred was renowned!
Saved the downed bird- blue feather-gowned!
Contest: Nursery Rhyme 3
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Categories:
campground, adventure, bird, nursery rhyme,
Form:
Rhyme
Some friends we met a year ago
On an Italian tour
Said, "Visit us in Oregon -
We'd love to see you more."
It took a year but here we are
And what a day they planned!
We drove 200 miles, viewing
So much gorgeous land.
From Vista House, we made our way
Up to Multnomah Falls.
The photos don't do justice
To a sight that just enthralls.
Hood River was our destination
Next to stop for lunch,
But first we checked out all the shops
Before we got to munch.
Delicious food, a killer view
Of windsurfers and kites;
A mild and sunny day we had
To add to our delights.
Next stop, the lodge at Timberline,
A rustic ode to wood,
The views a bit obscured but still,
We'd stay there if we could.
From there, a little detour
To a campground by a stream
With wine and cheese, bread, grapes and jam -
It felt just like a dream.
There even was s tablecloth -
Such planning all this took!
Reliving childhood days, I tossed
Some sticks into the brook.
At last, a visit to their home,
An elegant retreat.
(We surely have a knack to find
The best folks we can meet!)
Some drinks on the veranda,
Then some steaks cooked on the grill;
Potatoes, salad, yummy tart -
We more than ate our fill!
They drove us "home" - the day was like
Perfection at its peak.
All this from friends so special,
Though we've known them just a week!
(Dedicated to John and Debbie)
Categories:
campground, friend,
Form:
Rhyme
What makes the campfire boho I asked the complainer.
They are weird, loose and carefree, said Nosy McGainer.
She wears long ruffled dresses, Mr. Gainer suggested.
They have so much company, their camper is often congested.
I suggest you find another campfire, I told the McGainers.
They had been a blight on the campground for years, these complainers.
I met the boho couple and their children, all five were a delight.
The McGainers moved down the road, and we all had a great night.
Categories:
campground, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Rhyme
Said she was Sitting Bulls great, great, great
from Bill Cody's rodeo days in Germany ~
I did see a resemblance ~ pix, side by side!
Germany ~ before and after ~ Nazi's!
Now Monica a left-over immigrant to USA
proud in stature, limping, leg twisted
all alone on a RV campground ~ Winter!
Froze up plumbing, living on hand outs!
Husband in the Secret Service ~ military
murdered in his own bed ~ at home
used to fly to Monica's side ~ helicopter
only week-ends ~ secretive!
A green barret instructor to U. S.
Never found out why ~ no evidence
Monica now ~ on German pension, 63
last Birthday, celibrated with friend & me!
Each Sunday ~ after church
I picked her up ~ her RV ~ loaded w/cats
Her family ~ pix of German folks
all over ~ flowers ~ stacks of goods!
RV ~ crammed with poop ~ couldn't flush
No one wanted Monica on their premise
The Santee Sioux ~ campground, near Casino
Sitting Bull's relative ~ now stuck!
The Sitting Duck predicators
used to be the Indians ~ hunting, self taught
now educated Internet gamblers & the like
What a revolution of choice!
Local hardware ~ wouldn't help no one
open her frozen lines ~ all Summer
Til now ~ backed up with poop & cats!
Finally Monica OD'd, a diabetic!
RV blew up, she threatened to do often
Hospital, Psychiatry, Santee moved RV
To County garage, Center, Ne.
Want her story ~ it's up for grabs!
Categories:
campground, adventure, history,
Form:
Ballad
It all started with two kids
Getting it for what they did
Scripted it as taking it one step further from the flirty pass
A teen camper and his lass
All of a sudden rich Cunningham was making box office cash
In the original serving there was bacon
And a campground for the taken
One by one these social working types
Had to put up a fight
And when they suddenly disappeared
Movie audiences felt the fear
Watching casting talents get a start
Donating clothing and time for the part
Joining the filmmaking entourage a Broadway star
Probably a regular at a great white way bar
Her character lurked in the dark
Off camera setting the mark
A vengeful Mother
Attacking a group in the company of others
Claiming her boy drowned
While no counselors were around
And Friday the 13th was his birthday
Written dialogue did say
It has been said
She lost her head
No one knows where the Father lies
Wondering if he hears the young boy’s cries
In this major studio driven franchise
There has been many telling’s since the first
About Crystal Lake recreation area that was cursed
Sitting by the camp fire
Listening intently not getting tired
A story were a Mother is scorned
And a legend was born
This is no pond
Where Waldon was calm
Forty years ago Friday the 13th was shown
Cabin dwellers in the woods all alone
Do not worry
If Mommy and Jason are buried
One signature and in hurry
A new spin
Told over backpacking style dining ware tin
Will keep this story going
Like a crew passing time while doing the rowing
It is all right
To create this setting to give everyone a fright
Using a Mother’s guilt
And her son who in death has an indestructible built
Mommy’s ghost is out there
Haunting ready to scare
It could all be in one’s mind
Especially if it fits the proper slasher running time
Categories:
campground, anniversary, crazy, death, horror,
Form:
Rhyme