Best Savannah Poems
I'm an estuary of ivy-furs,
sleeping in monsoonal moonglades of love~
as the savannah sun of sunset blurs,
slowly unveiling stars with golden glove.
When russet- fairies twirl in a bronze lake,
singing with springs of watermelon wand,
an untouched summer unfurls behind ache,
lacing twilights with lush wishes, so fond.
Garden of grapefruit, doesn't forbid faith,
exotic eyes paint life with a rare art,
where hilly hues drape seashores ~ daisy-bathe,
my muse weaves magic on the 'bay of heart'.
Dear Southern Gals
Savannah - oh honey
You beautiful Belle
Your locks long and loose
And silver as well
Muted mementos
Of suffering of pain
Of tears you have wept
Long rivers of rain
Georgia - oh honey
You dear southern Belle
Your story is cruel
And shameful as well
Your tresses have witnessed
In somber green gray
The heartbreak the pain
The ship of that day
Oh Savannah oh Georgia
You dear Southern Belles
We hear you forever
Plead guilty as well
Now savour your beauty
The new dawn can’t wait
Start combing your hair
It’s time for a braid
Nicole de Jager April 2018
Beautiful little girl
With tiny little feet
Hair in curls
She' so sweet
Long thin bones
Structure so smooth
God blessed you
You're so cool
Christian home
Filled with love
You were sent
From God above
(Our Minister of Music and wife have been trying to adopt a child for several years. Finally
got a little girl last week.)
There was an uneasy feeling that night on the savannah.
The creatures were jumpy as they huddled and grazed.
Startling at each new sound, one stamps its foot and
the vast herd flees, from what they are unsure.
The lions creep through the long grass setting an ambush.
The first pair's job to spook the herd now is done.
The rest spread out, now taking up the deadly hunt.
Working quickly they target one and separate it.
One lioness jumps on its back then slips off and is trampled.
Another tackling it face on is gored in the shoulder.
But the rest soon have it cornered and it is soon smothered.
As it dies the pride are already ripping open its belly.
The blood covers the land red as it seeps into the soil
There will be feasting tonight as the lions gather to eat.
Snarling as they rip into the warm carcass, blows lashing out,
As they vie for position, pushing and shoving each other.
The hunt was long and hard, the fruits came at high price.
Two lioness wounded, one will die. Such is the cost of success.
A calf bawls for its mother, yet she cannot answer its call.
Sadly it is too young to live, it will end up a tasty morsel.
Sated the lions rest in the early sunlight as cubs play.
Life for now on the savannah continues, and peace reigns.
I go in search of an elusive Muse.
Her flight has left my vessels cracked and dry.
Shafts of moonlight bathing o’er savannah,
radiates no mist of magic in my mind,
where once we danced in step with wildest drums
and from my pen out flowed the words with ease.
An artist on a trapeze I swing with ease,
I ride a flying carpet in the arms of my Muse,
conquering worlds to the battle echo of the drums.
Never did I dip my pen in ink all dry,
I lived a fancy dream world in my mind,
exotic fantasies in wild savannah.
The moon a giant pearl in my savannah,
with wind a soothing breeze, I slept with ease.
The warmth of night shadows reassured my mind,
vanquished my phantoms as I journeyed with my Muse
ever gracious, her gift jars never dry.
Words poured out unceasing from her drums.
But now I feel the silence of the drums,
menacing clouds float over savannah,
the grassy plains once green, now are dry.
A flock of birds have plucked my words with ease,
like leaves they gather to lay at the feet of the Muse.
I am a scarecrow left bare and empty of mind.
My pen drags, no words come out my mind,
the ghosts of dead poets beat the drums,
marching, losing rhythm, without my Muse.
I beg the wind to find her in savannah,
bring her back to me, my pain to ease,
to cease poetic juices from bleeding dry.
My riverbeds continue to run dry,
without my Muse, I know I’ve lost my mind,
I can’t afford to leave the Art with ease.
In mysterious chambers deaf to the drums
I retire to salve my wounds in deep savannah,
and dream of waking up at the touch of my Muse.
I wait for my Muse, though she has left me dry,
In savannah I shall stay until my mind
hears the drums, again to write with ease.
African savannah grassland;
The grove world of beautiful lands.
Open and vast with opportunity
For every lion to go hunting.
The grove world of beautiful lands
For every lion to go hunting,
Watching is culture perched on a branch
Upon the decaying to come and feast.
For every lion to go hunting
Upon the decaying to come and feast.
The weak drool upon greedy king of the jungle
While the strong cut down oak of the forest.
Upon the decaying to come and feast;
While the strong cut down oak of the forest
And tap on withered porous papyrus branches,
Boiling fresh latex of the rubber tree.
While the strong cut down oak of the forest
Boiling fresh latex of the rubber tree,
They're cheered on by dancing blades of grass
That create beauty to appease the touring spirit.
Boiling fresh latex of the rubber tree
That create beauty to appease the touring spirit
Seeking to know every insect hidden in burrows
While in the strong wind the grass sway.
That create beauty to appease the touring spirit
While in the strong wind the grass sway
Not really dancing to any piece of music;
It creates a beautiful tune for dancers.
While in the strong winds the grass sway
It creates a beautiful tune for dancers
Attending the party of starved herbivores
Who feast on African savannah grass.
It creates a beautiful tune for dancers
Who feast on African savannah grass
The grove world of beautiful lands
For every lion to go hunting.
SORROW SPRINGS IN BLACK SAVANNAH
By Immaculata Ortner
Sorrow springs in black savannah
Where nature proved its pride
Silence sting like ancient drone
As dark melody rose
Winging high in spike like dragon spew
As discomfort swells in black souls
Our top was not so high
Neither was our thoughts wild!
When strangers flirt and raid our shores in with minds of wolfish beats
Our words and swards were sheath
And the voice of our chanting drum was trunk
Groaning grey in grievous tones
As darkness shades our doomy world
They traced our path in search of liquid golds, yet with books untold
They crack our walls with no defence, speak with hoot like owl!
They create a route of no return
Where blacks goods sniveled
They cleared our greens and dent
Our springs, yet we flinch and flee in fear
But though our nights, were doomy dark
The sun could rise in place of moody moon if brothers where brothers
Our wings could mount the stormy wind if friends we trust where truly friends
And the green we have would be truly green if tooth that flashed were purely white
Then our tales of pride would glow
The sun saturates the Spanish moss,
hangs from the oaks like a lacy dress
A lovely, warm grayish green under the sea,
showing every stitch in the lace, swaying like a living reef
Nature created a lace that sun nurtures and air gives water
There is a sting nestled in the moss, a gnat that bites
like the burn of fire coral
Sunlight kisses the tips of the moss with a benediction of life.
Plucked i am,
From the flowering mopane
By the mother of the mischievous ones,
Only to be reduced
To a reproving stick.
Safe and secure i am,
Or rather i think i am
In my seemingly fortified pod.
Later disposed into the arid savannah
Where the hooves of migrating buffaloes
Forcibly crush me out
Seeding me into the infertile sands.
Scorched by the tropical heat
Patiently i wait,
For the refreshing summer drizzles
Giving back the hope of life.
Braving the blazing heat
I struggle out of the soil.
So that i can start my own.
Facing the new environs with the naivety
Of a chick just out of a shell
Trying to stand on my own
I become food of antelopes
Returning back to mortality.
Learnmore Nyoni 2014 (c)
Savannah Rose
Annoying, friendly, caring, listener
Sister of Aaron and Carolyn
Lover of Art class, books, and my friends
Who feels embarrassment, happiness, and love
Who fears loss of friends, family, and chocolate
Who would like to see Journey from 1973, God, And Nephi
Resident of Anadarko,Oklahoma
Smith-Harper
We
had
to make
a dash from-
rhinos in a crash
Blazing bush-fire rages in the Savannah
With bright red eyes and fast moving legs
One ponders survival of flora and fauna
But it is not an ordinary wild bush fire
With amorphous and elastic fiery tongue
He is sectarian, wise but morally corrupt
Selecting only humans and sparing the rest
He sees, smells and burns them to stillness
Searching in hotels, homestead and bushes
Licking their bottoms and fanning flames
Whirlwind sends invoices to every house
As the stars rise, twinkle and set in youth
With no expert fire extinguishers in action
And fog covering the eyesight of the victims
Savannah bush fire merry-makes uninterrupted
In the land that may soon become catacombs
MY NAME IS ---SAVANNAH ROSE SUNFLOWER
my name Savannah
my favorite flowers are
Roses Sunflowers
one is shaped like fist
and the other looks like the sun
both which bright colorful
radiant colors
and O’ how I love them so
Savannah Sunflowers
9/25/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
a dedicated Haiku verse to Savannah Sorensen
Savannah your the source of all my stress
And you played me like a game of chess
Checkmate you know the rest
I will never back down and I will not digress
This was all written to express
How much i ****ing hate you is what i need to confess
In order to show you i must regress
Back to when it all started when you were who i tried to impress
you just told me you never cared nonetheless
I loved you, loved is the word i need to stress
I just found out the truth for so long i had to guess
I figured out that your satan i mean that with all disrespect
The worst part is that you know im correct
And as i recollect i was the victim of your self-deception
And you're the victim of my lyrical aggression
Now i look into my reflection
I cant figure out my direction
Theres a lot i can't say for your protection
So ill keep my mouth shut so theres no possible detection
My words are meant to break you and cause you to do a self inspection
I think its called an introspection
I hope i help you realize that you're the definition of imperfection
I want to make your happiness commit to a defection
Knowing you love someone else feels like a needle in my skin an injection
The needle is dirty and covered in an infection
I only say that because your a whore to my deepest recollection
I write these rhymes with a goal, to reverse your smiles direction
Can i ask you if i've reached my objection?
Plucked i am,
From the flowering mopane
By the mother of the mischievous ones,
Only to be reduced
To a reproving stick.
Safe and secure i am,
Or rather i think i am
In my seemingly fortified pod.
Later disposed into the arid savannah
Where the hooves of migrating buffaloes
Forcibly crush me out
Seeding me into the infertile sands.
Scorched by the tropical heat
Patiently i wait,
For the refreshing summer drizzles
Giving back the hope of life.
Braving the blazing heat
I struggle out of the soil.
So that i can start my own.
Facing the new environs with the naivety
Of a chick just out of a shell
Trying to stand on my own
I become food of antelopes
Returning back to mortality.
Learnmore Nyoni 2014 (c)