Long Bayou Poems
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Lurking in the shadows,
Searching for his prey.
The Beast of the Bayou,
Will feast well today.
An unsatiable hunger,
Drives his rabid desire.
With dagger-like teeth,
And eyes lit with fire.
His razor sharp claws,
Rips flesh to the bone.
The fear he instills,
Turns all into stone.
For the ill-fated souls,
That soon cross his path.
Will feel all the fury,
Released from his wrath.
When the carnage is over,
And he's happily fed.
He'll howl at the moon,
And traipse on the dead.
Then vanish in the night,
Without leaving a clue.
Oh God! Don't look now,
He's standing behind you!
Florid banshees recoiled, neck and hankering sneer.
A succinctly exuberant suggestion when selective.
Came on, fell flat with laconic ornamentation.
A miniature jaunt, interment; glove comparted.
Pin-striped foxtails attuned tune maddening clairvoyants.
Precisely predisposed, wine-flavored latten tobaccos.
A wooden-tipped juxtaposition, stilling waisted.
Bygone midge nonguarded, slunk olive drabbing on bayou.
Thicken handkerchief lightly dabbing brow.
Darkness entrapment, fiat practice gymnastics.
Money management, coinage magnet, honored in mathematics.
Backflipping,
Backtracking,
Backpacking.
Super-Soaker moisture, quickie; quickly, socks on prickly.
Sloped incline, inside Mount Saint Helens' Slip 'n Slide.
Awakened by the kiss of dawn
the softness of her morning light
gently nudges the night away
The dew drops twinkle on the lawn
a bird sings sweetly his delight,
his trilling, courteous and gay
The garden flowers seem to spring
amidst the green they gently sway
floral fragrance floats on the breeze
The bayou softly murmuring
wavering shadows still at play,
lost in the depths of cypress trees
A squirrel scampers to the ground
and across the yard he rushes
buries acorns without a sound
In the distance a baying hound
eager to hunt in the bushes
until fox or raccoon is found
A horse gallops over a hill
enjoying freedom and the sun,
he stops, grazing in grassy fields
I follow nature and be still
watching as the day has begun
and early morning beauty yields
© 07/29/2019
Tri-Con Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
~Chasing Bigfoot~
Across the Bayou Waters
Into vast trails of wilderness
I follow a sound, a sullen scent
---footprints
He was out there,
hairy large and in charge
Drugs under the beastly moonlight
Heavy torrents swept me in
Deep, down and dark
Under a hidden den
Between the moon and stars
I gaze into a world unknown
A comparison of salt water and bonnets
Lord of the forest deep
Entrapped in a romantic secret sonnet
Over the corner in every shadow
Red Auburn hair, above a 12 foot pair
Daring to face the lone gallows
In one peek
I observe it was not made by men
The fear became excitement
It offered a moment to think
I don't know if it wants to injure me
It sniffs me repeatedly,
Smearing my skin with his nose
This type of behavior, this smell
Began to arouse my rose
Rough nails grip around my neck
Forest flavored lips
Unravelling a taste unhuman
The touch erupts and fills me with fear
Still, I long to linger near
Sunrise starts with a grin
Revolving around the mood
Upon his long coat of shrooms
Without fear I stroke his thick fur
Rough and sweet I repeat
Living or dying, I stay
To love the fear-driven inside
Day after day
Deep and gray, life fades
Then becomes elusive
11 years the sun hides
Dark eyes, hold me all night
This wild man, by the bedside
Cries from the woods before sunset
I follow----
Somewhere behind hidden walls
The woods stand tall
Flowers welt from this burning love
My heart owned by the sasquatch
Though rapid dreams and streams,
I scream
Of Big Foot and I
By: PD
Wandering through the bayou,
wrapped in its eerie embrace.
Mysterious and strange--
a magical place.
Never seeming to change,
even as seasons come and go,
swampy waters ebb to and fro.
Like long-lost daughters,
gnarled courtly cypress trees
rise from black, murky waters.
Draped lovingly in Spanish moss,
swaying softly in the breeze.
Butterflies float across
as gentle winds ruffle their leaves.
Bouquets of wild hibiscus fill the air,
mingled with sweet azaleas blooming there.
Bullfrogs croak and crickets chirp--
the bayou is awash with soothing music.
As dragonflies flit the cattails, elusive,
water moccasins slither at your feet,
or lurk above you in the trees.
Just as the sun begins to sink low,
comes the faint sound of a fiddle and bow.
The gator comes out of hiding,
rising from the dark waters below--
looking for his meal and smiling.
With snapping jaws, a deer is caught,
then taken below, where he will rot.
The moon rises high into the night,
as fireflies glow in the twilight.
A voodoo queen slips into sight--
with gnarled hands, she rolls the bones.
Whispering cryptic words, she softly moans,
tenderly caressing her snake,
wrapped around and about her neck.
A coon hound whoops it up.
The gnarled trees cast spooky shadows.
Is that the ghostly apparition of Jean Lafitte--
who managed to escape prison and gallows?
Did you bury your treasure in the water or weeds?
As the wind moans softly, it’s time to turn home,
where you can fill your belly with spicy gumbo.
Alesia Leach © 10/2014
Through the Mississippi River trenches
Bayou close
Plantation seen in the distance
Cruising through Southern history’s past
Battle and Struggle
Civil War breakout
Slavery quo
Acceleration having a slow pace
Rebel among the multitude of voices
Southern accent
Freedom thought
The need being a slow proceed
Won’t, Can’t, Shouldn’t and total stand still
The vision of slaves being compelled to function on the many plantations sun up to sun down
Breezes were only a wave with a fan
Mississippi River far and wide
Shores yonder
Banjos setting the tone for boundaries forbidden
Folklore testimonies
Singing and dancing through the circumstances
Slaves praying every chance
Only Slaves knew the trouble they seen
Having the understanding I mean
Southern drawl components
Mouth to Mouth
The Mississippi River belle telling how the Mississippi River being the passage way in bringing Slaves for plantation purposes
Mississippi River ever wise
Southern element no surprise
Beyond the spectacle, but slaves had to succumb having no surrender, but ordinance.
River Line
A creek has no commemoration
River of life, river of living
Inner beauty shines through the clear flow
Vast waves clashing away obstacles
Earth arcane creation God has made
Relax to the sounds of triumphal hymn
Shameless reflection no transgression
Beautiful bayou that flows sin downstream
Even fear fades through the muddy rapid
A praise as the waves craves the blessed land
Unweeded bright blue shores frames-I do’s
Translate sounds to the heaven halos
Yet! The river’s filled with remembrance
She sails where the bayou kisses the tide,
a phantom queen with a mournful glide.
The paddle churns, though no hands steer,
and jazz floats faint on a breeze unclear.
Her lanterns burn with a ghostly hue,
casting gold on waters black and blue.
No passengers board, no voices ring--
just whispers soft as a violin string.
The captain’s hat is dust and bone,
his eyes like coals, his soul long gone.
He tips his brim to the moonlit shore,
forever sailing, seeking more.
Beneath her decks are cards and gin,
dice that roll where life wore thin.
The laughter echoes through the years--
a masquerade of silent cheers.
They say she sank in 'twenty-four,
but rose again with something more.
A curse, a pact, or prayer gone wrong--
now midnight is her siren song.
If you hear her horn on a still, dark night,
don’t follow the sound or seek the light.
For once aboard, you’ll never disembark--
your name etched in the ledger of the dark.
Alesia Leach © 4/2025
Foundation.
Does visiting a medium change your life perspective forever?
Have you visited one?
Title:
Rêves de Miss Applegate
(Dreams of Miss Applegate)
(A female voice whispers)
I can still see her
Old Marie Laveau
Dressed in motherly blue
I can't pretend
In my scrying mirror
Looking back
And smiling
Summoned to haunt me
From when I visited
Big Mama Aurelia
Somewhere out on the water village, of the Grand Bayou
For she announced the end
Of me being single
And a time and place
Of happiness
I still cannot see
Where I'll mingle
When the great Kamadeva, will walk in
Like a proud Captain Jake
And tempt me to sin
In new
Where's and how's
The what if's and so's
So, sometimes I stand dressed in my Mama's old white wedding dress
Looking in my long black and gold mirror
Pleading to know my fate
In what year,
Month or day
Will she come see me?
Before each winter's year ending, snow
And whisper
This year
This year, the waiting ends
Josefina
So I can celebrate the overthrow
Of another phase of living lonely in Hades
But until then
I'll just go back to masquerading on my life's only mission
On my heart's beating crusade
Looking for true love
Before I too fade away
Is this half existence
The price you pay
When you listen to what mediums say?
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Kamadeva is the god of human love and passion, who is known to awaken carnal desires among humans.
Written: September 08, 2024 For Edward Ibeh Contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He has blue eyes and lovely blond hair,
Curls rose above his pink and pretty ware.
Do not mention his background or affairs,
With Africa by people who settled there.
His father's family tree has extensive roots,
Has Swedish, Cajun French, and British limbs.
Grafts from Choctaw and Cherokee wood routes,
That got some black stems from long-time whims.
His mother comes from a Creole background,
Descendants of a native African tribe.
Parentage from France and Spain was found,
And mingled with Bayou Indians and more vibe.
Because intolerance and hatred confine,
They also obstruct the expansive plain.
Therefore, bigots are vindictive and supine,
It is only clear to observe the gutter drain.
There are no pleasant views of the spleen,
There are no cloverfields or rolling greens.
Restricted minds lack the ability to see,
a breathtaking panorama of the scene.
And biased men with pretentious pride,
While in white, they become narrow-eyed.
who despise Blacks, Jews, and Native side,
They are completely sealed and closed inside.