Best Marshy Poems

A Song at Sunrise



He sang the song at sunrise, to the morning dawn
It rose into the atmosphere and carried on and on

It fell in gentle rain upon the barren lands
It moistened upturned faces and was caught in outstretched hands

It blew within warm winds across the...

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FIRST MOVEMENT (Minor Key)

Times such as these test body soul and mind
So should our thoughts be pain and dark confined
Or loosed to concentrate on brighter things
Like furry puppies, flowers and girls on swings

In this bright morning sun as I roved out
Past village houses waking to...

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No one scoops up the vast subtleties
Of my mind's water
Quite like the hands that adore me most 
There are no holes,
No overflows, nor spills
This soul does not filter away the essence,
Does not pluck the bloom before it has shown its worth,
Nor does his powerful hands...

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The poem that I write,
Is the one that I fantasize of writing
The one that my muse, celestial being
Made of mysterious essence,
Regards as the celebration of my fall,
Here, in a world devoid of meaning!

This poem recounts of how
The shadows of my life
Get dissipated
As love resolves its...

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He sang the song at sunrise, to the morning dawn
It rose into the atmosphere and carried on and on

It fell in gentle rain upon the barren lands
It moistened upturned faces and was caught in outstretched hands

It blew within warm winds across the marshy fen
Was whispered...

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Jewels of Africa.

The saffron Queen spins the lilac sky,
her rays flick crimson cinders into Royal Blue Oceans.
Submerge, sizzle, frizzle...going, going, gone! ...But Not.
Cumulus clouds drizzle pepper fog over pink Flamingos, homeward bound.

Tea-green Botswana bush,
teeny, tiny Hummingbirds hover over brink-pink Balsams,
feast on elixir of nectar.
Royal Albatross...

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The seas have gotten choppy

the ships have all been moored

the winds have gotten mighty

a shiver's slipping through the door

The docks are all now empty

the lighthouse has gone dim

the seagulls all are nesting

up on the marshy hill

The sirens are now blaring

the skies are dark and gray

the...

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An agile Cinnamon bear
Saunters across rusty snow
A treacherous avalanche path.
Meandering through fields
Bathed in Indian Paintbrush
And Columbine, Purple
Elephants forcing their faces
Through marshy creek beds.

A futile attempt to find
Berries so near to tundra and sky,
The great sow tears open
Rotted logs, finding morsels
Of insect meat.

The day moves into...

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Eastern dam
	 A vast expanse of
		Captive water
	Long grass and reeds
		Marshy acres where
	Where the dike’s inadequacy	
		Overflowed 

The hoarse call of
	Mating geese
		On flighty wings

Ducks plummeting
	To a watery landing

A gilded Teal	
	A fledgling Heron
		On awkward limbs
	A Meadowlark
		A Whippoorwill 

Sweet breeze caressing 
			Gentle doe
				Knee-deep in swamp
	Gazing intently at

Shadowy rider
	Perched contentedly	on
			Looming...

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The velvet blanket of night gently lifts
                                  revealing a gauzy veil of...

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A golden day, my mother said.
She had taken my father (who was dying - in the final stages of metastatic lung cancer, his face swollen and disfigured from the medicines, his once thick head of hair long gone from the radiation, his sure-rootedness now reduced...

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My dog named “Hicks” 
'The dog that licks the frog he found in the log'

that delightful, disgusting dog that lick the fluffy, hairy frog he found in the marshy, low log
My dog  “Hicks
the dear, domestic dog that lick the fancy frog he found in...

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mother-made moments should be soft and squishy
not filled with terror or just plain icky

mother-made moments should comfort and soothe
not leave you feeling like you've been royally screwed
they are supposed to feel like super softie towels 
freshly out from the dryer
or like a kite on a...

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I walked into the castle
Up on the hills and in the glens
There she was dressed in white satin
She was wide eyed and smiling
The princess of sleep, mist of the morning 
A fantasy to keep


She was an angel, all in virgin chiffon
Her life a bed of...

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Leaving the War Behind
for Elihu Burritt, peacemaker

The cannon thundered in the South,
    	And with the sound
     	The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 
- H. W. Longfellow,  “Christmas Bells”

1863, your old friend Longfellow almost 
despairing....

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