Best Jungle Poems
So thick with rain,the rancid air
into the jungle pours.
Young soldiers with their feet on fire
keep on despite the sores.
This war is one that no one wants
and no one understands.
Young men and women give their lives
in these far Asian lands.
Back home these kids are shown disdain;
they're spit upon and worse.
When they come home from Viet Nam
in airports they are cursed.
A blight upon our history
was this long standing war.
But we should show the vets respect
for suffering they bore.
written by Deb Wilson
January 12th, 2013
for contest "Historical Modified Quatrain"
- I wish my name was Jane ... and had a pretty
swimsuit ... (Tarzan yell) - quote by poet
The jungle waited with deep bated breath
silence broken by a pack of howler monkeys
In truth the jungle is never quiet
Morning sun shines through the leaves of the trees
the air is filled with birdsong
A sleepy sloth with movements
as a slow motion movie
Everyday routines for an effective new day
Further into the jungle a predator stirs
Muscles undulate under rosette-dotted fur
A slender muscular jaguar moves gracefully
First mission of the day with deadly grace
The strongest will survive
the law of the jungle
It rumbles in the treetops
elephants wander through dense foliage
waving their huge ears- no trumpet sound
Enigmatic giants in silent march
The jungle changes at sunset
don't dare stay here at night
Your sweet nectar
wraps around my senses
like jungle vines
steady drums beating
Your heart near mine
Your strong hands
hold me suspended
by my waist
Just enough pain and strength
against my supple skin
For my taste
The musk of your
sculpted body and the forest
has me going wild
But yet, the tender way you
protect me, reminds me of
Being a child
A safe familiarity
with a strain of animalistic
seduction
Your invisible hold over me
leaves me arrow poisoned
Unable to function
My long dark hair wraps you
with smells of coconut and ocean Sun
your locks full of mud and enemies
Blood
together, my warrior
We make One
The Urban Jungle
Where trees once stood, oh so proud
Now a tower, hosts a crowd
In a place, where water flowed
Now a lawn freshly mowed
Once a cry from Tarzan heard
Now a car horn blasts a nerd!
Wildlife teemed in wood and bogs
Only now roam packs of dogs
A safe place for frog and toad
Now a highway overload
Bird song filled the air aloud
Now we have a toxic cloud
Wild cats hunted for prey in vain
Now we bathe in acid rain
NOW all wildlife in distress
In the name of OUR progress!
There's a ravenous rhymer named SKAT
who prowls prose like a big jungle cat
Check your door cuz she might
(if she likes what you write)
leave a word for you on the front mat
************************
This limerick is for my Soup
buddy SKAT who was the very
first person to welcome me to
the Poetry Soup community.
Thank you for your encouraging
comments and continual support.
You are appreciated! xoxo
08/03/2015
Jungle Drums
Well known was Molly by gossips
Words fell so easy from her lips
They always found ready ears
Revered was she amongst her peers
A casual meeting Molly made
Good conversation she displayed
Invited then to mothers meeting
Where received a rapturous greeting
For all the ladies gathered there
Knew Molly had a tale to share
About the folk at forty eight
Procured across a garden gate
Passed along tongue to tongue
It must be right, it can’t be wrong
Second hand, thrice removed
Each time the details are improved
Behind her curtains, Mrs Rose
Who sees all that comes and goes
From her shadowy oasis
Offers Molly on the basis
What she tells her will be treated
With respect and not repeated
Knowing only far to well
Molly cannot wait to tell
Everyone she knows
All she’s gleaned from Mrs Rose
And Peg the paper shop assistant
Said “It’s true”, she was insistent
She had heard the news confirmed
By Mrs Smith, who had learned
About the tale and of course
From a most reliable source
It’s not hard to understand
How she holds them in her hand
Like ducklings on a pond to feed
Molly delivers to their greed
Her listeners are now captivated
By her words uncomplicated
Said with such simplicity
Masked by dark duplicity
Who would believe, ill intent
From a face, so innocent
Having spilled out all her news
Others offered up their views
Ever wilder each new claim
Fending, proving, placing blame
Then Ginger Adams put her spoke in
“ I had heard, “She’s done her bloke in”
With a glare from Molly’s eye
Ginger just wanted to die
For she had not learnt quite yet
Where the sights they should be set
Which appears to be somewhere
Between uncaring and unfair
With no way to recognize
Which be truth and which be lies.
Please forgive the implication that this behaviour is
exclusive to the fairer sex, it is simply for the purposes
of this write. I have known men that easily equal any
woman in this sphere of life, and be just as catty, hahahha
a paradise of plumage,
swoops through the tall tangled trees,
spreading seeds in the forest-
loud calls and songs fill the breeze . . .
Jueju/qijue form - 7 syllable lines
____________________________________
a glass butterfly,
with transparent wings,
rests on a wet fern-
oh such lovely things!
Jueju/wujue form - 5 syllables
___________________________________
February 27, 2017
Jueju
There you sit...you patiently wait...
thinking of which animal you want to sate...
Observing a fine fox, who favourable flirts...
with sexy green eyes and the shortest of skirts.
She spots a wolf and scampers his way...
asking him coyly, "Do you want to play?"
A teasing Tigress arrives on the scene...
licking her lips like you are ice cream...
Throws off her furs and bares her teeth...
de***ishly dares you to make a leap...
She purrs softly, "Mount if you wish"...
encouraging you with a tantalizing kiss...
The energy pulsating, reaching new heights...
bodies heavenly entwined as they take flight...
After some time, they reluctantly descend...
exhausted, sated and ready again.
Jungle by night
In the far jungle
The big bear of darkness lay
Crouched all night on leafy ground.
It glared through eyes of
Oil lamps of far away huts.
When dawn came, it slunk away.
07/Dec/12
Form: Personification in Form ‘Sedoka’( Syllables: 5-7-7, 5-7-7 )
S.Jagathsimhan Nair
Motif: Nature
For Mary Oliver Rotman
This misty sky
a reflection of our misty life
in its sucked up, clouded vision
without any sense of perception,
its hopes, its desperation, its life,
clinging, slipping, dropping away
from view, from all of us,
droids and prefects alike,
too numerous
to see through the mess,
too brain dead to think aloud,
to escape from this sick world
of profits in money not in hope
or dreams or love or life,
created by our bosses to protect
and huddle us from the harsh
realities of unknown centuries
and create our own 'civil'isation,
our life our hopes hanging on their walls
The misty sky is all in our sight
I want to be on the star shining bright
Animals animals all we are
Have come from the jungle that's oh so far!
Happily happily we came dancing here
With many lessons that you all have to hear.
I am the ferocious lion king
The song of Valour is what I sing
Never take a step back in times of peril
Be always a man of pride and virile.
I am the mighty elephant here
I do have an empathetic ear
It's always good to stay grounded
Family turns your life fulfilled.
I'm the little squirrel in the burrow
Unfailingly active in every high and low
Vigilance and resilience are my innate traits
Your effort, I say, opens all the gates.
I am the restless naughty monkey
I am ingenious and witty
Fun and mischief are so vital
In a serious lifestyle for a quick revival.
I am the curious cub of the bear
My mom is so strict and fair
She taught me the way to make an owlish choice
And to always listen to the clever mind voice.
Animals animals all we are
Have come from the forest that's oh so far!
Oh dear humans! You're the best of all
Live and let live breaking the wall.
When panthers prowl and lions stalk,
the lone wolves howl and parrots talk.
The bee hives hum and wild boars snort;
the grouses drum; the deer cavort.
And as geese cackle, small hares peek.
They see a jackal, squeal and squeak!
Near streams are snipes where hoot owls hoot.
A nightingale pipes sound of flute.
Frogs croak and play as pigeons moan,
and rhinos bray through beetles’ drone.
Snakes hiss, and apes start gibbering;
no beast escapes this daily fling!
In this clatter, swallows twitter,
magpies chatter; every critter
can join in. Hyenas laugh
while in the din, each tall giraffe
begin to bleat. What reverie
of primal beat - this jamboree!
July 2, 2020 for Brian Strand's
Strand Completely New(4)Any Theme Any Form Poetry Contest
The everyday project is to continue the extreme task of survival
waking up every morning to the bad reality that it may be the last
holding unto this hint, the greatest wisdom to acquire.
Community of birds and a den of serpents confined in one farm;
Cougars, deadly and voracious to the assembly of cayotes;
Cayotes hunting the raccoons and in turn the eels in same habitat.
This cruel side of nature has been instinctively adopted by humans
where virtues and feelings develop cannibalistic canines.
Evil then grows obese in the mind but yet not satisfied
bully and intimidation, openly infused into the town’s planning
for different illegal lords to gallivant with their cabinets,
when those at the top stop giving lawlessness a dime
and close the run way through which impunity cat-walks,
then orderliness will be restored for humanity to have a bath.
I woke up with vines strangling my neck and holding me down,
but let me begin at the beginning of this adventure;
it begins with a packet of running beans that looked appealing,
said to be easy to grow, so I said to self, why not ?
I placed three bean seeds in each seedling pot and watered,
to my surprise the next day I had sprouts peaking,
and the next day, they were standing quite upright and happy,
how odd, I thought but with a shrug I watered them.
They were a thirsty lot and each day they seemed to grow higher,
they soon needed bigger pots, so I did that for them;
and now they took off, growing, growing, growing, growing,
till they reached the top of my windows reaching.
Oh, yes they wanted out but it was too cold to do that yet,
they grew over the curtain rod and along the curtains;
and oh so lush and green and did I mention thirsty,
anyways, I went to bed one night and was dreaming.
When I felt something strangling me, and I was pinned down,
pinned by twinning bean tendrils- the whole room full;
desperate, I tore the tendrils from my neck so I could breathe,
my room was a green jungle of running beans.
In my bedside drawer were my sewing scissors so I got them,
and started cutting, the bean plants were strong;
it was an epic battle, I cut and grabbed, and ripped my way,
I ran to the kitchen for garbage bags and threw them in.
In the middle of the night I took them all to the garbage,
I lifted the lid and threw, I think I heard them screaming;
back in my bedroom I went to sleep 'till morning dawned,
remembering my dream I looked at the window . . .
the runner beans were gone . . . .
was it a dream ?
___________________________
May 17, 2020
Poetry/Narrative Verse/Battling a Jungle of My Making
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1227-788-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest Action Adventure
sponsor, Chantelle Anne Cooke
Fourth Place
Set me adrift
Turn me right around,
That's where I'm going.
That's where I'm found.
Parakeets.
Monkeys.
Snakes to eat.
Venomous, poisonous
As all this retreats.
Spines in the river;
Sharp, hungry teeth.
Pass through the darkness
A clearing now nears.
Towering waterfall, loftiest trees
A Jaguar now glimpsed, into Jungle is seen.
Turn me right around
As rain clouds appear.
The Waterfall. Darkness. Too few sounds.
The others now listened, but I
Near the Jaguar was found.