Long Camp Poems
Long Camp Poems. Below are the most popular long Camp by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Camp poems by poem length and keyword.
Fierce fighting raged, but surprise was gone,
the Americans rallied and pushed hard,
the Indians fell back, out of the ravine,
the patriots driving them that far.
Hand-to-hand combat broke out brutally,
with knives, clubs, and rifle-stocks,
Iroquois would wait until patriots fired,
then while they reloaded, charge with tomahawk.
Herkimer saw his people being killed,
so he ordered them all to pair off,
one man would fire, the other would load,
now It was the Indians who felt sharp loss.
The killing continued, on through to morn,
until a thunder storm broke over the field,
the fighting quieted but neither side budged,
neither side put down powder or steel.
But as the storm passed, back at Stanwix,
the garrison heard of Herkimer’s plight,
they charged out into the near empty camps,
putting the few British still there to flight.
They plundered and pillage all that they could,
ransacking and stealing their supplies,
when word reached the battle, the Indians turned,
now it was their turn to be surprised.
The broke from the field, ran for the camps,
but when they arrived they saw it was too late,
the garrison had retreated back to the fort,
with their spoils behind a barred gate.
At Oriskany, Herkimer held the field,
so by the standards of the day he had won,
but neither side had gained that much from it,
despite all the bloody work that was done.
The patriots were too savaged to continue on,
to damaged to hope to lift the siege,
they retreat back east, to Fort Dayton,
to see to their wounds and their needs.
St. Leger found himself in a terrible spot,
supplies dwindling, his camp ransacked,
to make matters worse, mad Indian allies
started slinking off, not to come back.
Not long after another relief column,
led by a general who’s name won’t be said,
marched for Stanwix, convincing the Brits
they had little chance of not being bested.
St. Leger ordered his forces to retreat,
back to Canada his troops did go,
and the British plan to split the colonies
suffered from its first heavy blow.
Herkimer didn’t live to see that day,
his wound quickly became infected,
when the time came to amputate his leg,
it was botched up, and quite freely bled.
At least the brave man got to die in his home,
and his name is recalled in glory,
he remains a hero in upstate New York,
for his courage at Oriskany.
Far off the beaten track and trail
on quest for music’s Holy Grail
led pilgrims on biblical scale
more than can be counted.
With midsummer sun on our cheek
in tents to shelter we did seek
and pitched them at its highest peak
on a hilltop mounted
As we climbed the lean of the hill
my beer I would try not to spill
and sat with the great unwashed till
olé and adios.
It was I, El Skeet, amigo,
in my poncho and sombrero
half-cut like a loco gringo
who waved “vaya con dios!”
We lit yet another hash bong
all up in smoke like Cheech & Chong
and passed it to each one along
under the cop radars.
Till late as wasted brain cells flag
with every mind trip headfu-ck drag
I tucked in to my sleeping bag
on the hill ‘neath the stars
As music and mayhem did rage
back in next summer’s youthful age
we camped closer to the big stage
by a shallow hollow.
I’d sit and watch the crowds go by
in the hot sun and dust and dry
under a big Waikato sky
from our camp on tent row
And as I ripped in with the guys
to our grog trailer of supplies
we made a hanging chain of ties
with every pull tab rent.
Waiting for Cold Chisel that night
with a superdoob glowing bright
I was fuc-kin’ high as a kite
and lurched back to my tent
The next day I woke in a daze
and walked off my drunken malaise
when I heard singing songs of praise
in some weird sh-it I saw.
Tambourine hippies, punks and geeks
and chanting Hari Krishna freaks
burnt incense in clay painted cheeks
so I got high some more
Yet in a hot wet and wild hour
stoned in the unisex shower
I gazed many a sweet flower
in their naked splendour.
We bathed too in waters that flowed
down where the lazy river bowed
lest my head spontaneous explode
on my three day bender
That night by the stars we were led
as above a smoky sky bled
when out The Enz rocked “I See Red”
and fired a burning flare.
In the spirit of Sweetwaters
we lived among at close quarters
sons of Bacchus and his daughters
and I so revelled there
Written: November 2009
Sweetwaters was an annual three
day music festival back in 1980s.
Oh,my dear hot star sun, You are the mother sky's son, Daily you are born in the east, And slowly dies in the west. Oh,my dear big ball of hot gas, You reflect like luminous glass, Day and night are made by you, You're the day star of the sky of blue. Oh,my dear sphere of hot plasma, You give heat to earth chasma, Are you help plants to grow and alive, All organisms need you for life and live. Oh,my dear shining eye of sky, You're center of solar system close by, All the planets revolve around you, Your gravity keeps them in orbit true. Oh ,my dear big burning lamp, You make wakeup all in the dawn camp, People worship you as their creator, Without you living things can't live greater.
Only eighteen and conscripted to the military,
no choice of mine it was the norm at this time and scary,
barely out of school and still wet behind the ear,
too young to watch an adult movie or have a beer.
Disadvantaged to study and too white to be left behind,
this I never understood till today, rightfully grew up blind,
this pain will never leave me as I walk through life,
explaining, I can’t understand myself, the past strife.
Ready to be trained to kill another nation’s child,
leaving their family with the loss and our side smiled,
dejected as I waved goodbye to my family that day,
my girlfriend was there too and my friends to stay.
To a military camp for 2 years, programed and trained,
based in Kimberley 900 Km to be mentally stained,
infantry intelligence was my involuntary military calling,
not knowing what was in store for our adult life’s stalling.
On my new bed listening to songs of memory and waiting,
corporals, sergeants screaming at youths scared, hating,
nobody knowing what or who, or how, where to show,
disconnected from family and treated like **** dough.
Moulding us into military men without feelings,
chased and forced without asking or dealings,
involuntary wearing uniforms, carrying death,
brainwashed, to march in unison, out of breath.
Bushwhacking, crawling under barbed mesh,
ripping our faces, shredding our young flesh,
many a youth destroyed mentally for gore,
but guaranteed that we were ready for war.
Your rifle is your wife; the military is your mother,
drilled into our minds and began a smother,
fired our weapons at fabricated enemy,
re-loading and then screaming with venom.
Indoctrination and mental instability forced,
not ourselves but killing machines endorsed,
spread across African borders to kill on sight,
innocent, women and child death is our right.
Many a friend made and many a friend lost,
this is for our nation, family and worth the cost,
under the impression of protecting our nation,
living off measly dehydrated and shared ration.
We the soldiers of our South African un-united nation,
proud and ready to destroy, our new minds creation,
all others were the enemy and terrorists,
to them we were the same to kill and create hero lists,
Friends and Time with family are lost forever,
memories of the past in our conscience lost never.
A Rift in Time
By Elton Camp
Henry Higgins, B.A., M.A. Ph.D., graduate in physics from the Massachusetts Institution of Technology, is missing. Born August 8, 1950, he was thought of as a genius by some, but as a crackpot by others. Revolutionary theories on the possibility of time travel that he presented at scientific gatherings received a mixture of applause and ridicule. None of his articles have seen publication in peer-reviewed journals.
How his machine works is of a technical nature, thus certain to be of insignificant interest to the readers of this account. Suffice it to say that it works very well. Henry had seen his device disappear and reappear multiple times after being programmed to slide both forward and backward in time.
Finally came the day to test it in person. Surprisingly athletic for a man of his years, Henry strapped himself into place before the control panel, adjusted his eyeglasses and pulled a protective helmet over his thick, gray hair. He set the chronometer to early August of 2040 to determine if he was still living at that advanced age and what honors had been accorded him by the scientific community.
With a barely-discernable jerk, the time machine began its slide into the future, the red cancel button prominently alongside the digital display of the date. The world outside the device became a blur and Henry heard only a low hum from the engine. All seemed to be well as the years rolled by on the chronometer. At first, that is.
Henry noted with surprise the muscle atrophy and skin changes associated with extreme age. A slight looseness of his helmet caused him to discover that he was now as bald as his father had been in his late eighties. Henry’s eyeglasses no longer allowed him to read the control panel clearly. The truth hit him--he was aging along with the passing years. The inanimate time machine had shown no such effect, but it was different with a biological organism. He desperately punched the cancel button, realizing that, if his future self was not still living, his death was impending.
To his relief, the chronometer slowed and stopped. Without input from Henry, the time device began to move backward in time, slowly at first, and then at a brisk clip. By the time the read-out showed Henry’s present, his physical deterioration had been reversed and all was as before.
From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By
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Camp E-How-Kee.
?
Autoplay
Camp E-How-Kee
as a child
had it's dark side as well.
Paul Butler is doing life
for robbery
i know.
He was black and seemed
like a nice kid back then,
he was the token
in our small group of whites
with him it numbered ten.
Fat Jack..Jack Thomas
died
in Florida state prison.
George Walker abused by
his father,
Sexually, psychologically and
physically life a living hell.
kicked in the face by Chief Snell.
He may have weighted
seventy pounds soaking wet
five foot one perhaps.
While Chief Snell,
wearing size thirteen and standing
six foot eleven in bare socks.
Kicked him in his face one early morn.
George in and out prison as well
perhaps by now, 'maybe dead.
He had courage.
Robert Sykes, whom wet the bed
every night.
Lord only knows,
the demons and monsters,
inside of his head.
The abuse that he suffered at home
was his fault we all now know
but a child as well.
is he alive..Amen.
The boy with the epileptic seizures
so bad
I remember his name..
as Dwayne Robinson..he shook and he
screamed all night..
putting the pillow over his head.
While the counselor poured buckets
of cold water on him.
Screaming be quite.
where was 'God'..then..
Must I go on..yes I will.
All of us between eleven and twelve.
Maybe one was thirteen..
mighty frontiersman were we.
Angels, were we heavens know, 'no.
being allowed to use axes
and draw knives
we kept pocket knives to do our work.
And Wally Otting was like Frank...
Michael Berro...
none thinking back then were like I..
When it got to bad
I would take most away in the middle
of the night to escape..
what we thought we escaped when it was
we left our homes.
Most would not listen and then get caught
I always made it back home fifty miles
of eating berries or nothing at all..
just to be sent back again.
Delila after dark..this was then...
you were a tender Ronnie and
I was a boy of twelve..with no
moss or beard..
and my parts even then were coveted
by others as well..
This is my confession for them..
Donna Black...H.C.S.D.
Doing this to us was what..........and
where is Gary Anderson?
What could a child, 'i have done back then
but i tried, as
One group of five made up of tens.
VII.
Reid’s eyes widened with the realization,
she was with child? How long had she known?
His mind reeled and more men gathered outside,
by this time his cover had been long blown.
He glanced down upon red Wolf struggling,
then at the woman who haunted his dreams,
forced to chose between revenge or his love,
just minutes ago so simple it seemed.
He glanced at Mink, and she looked back at him,
said, “If you will spare him, I will go with you.
Take me and our child far from this place,
just please do not do what you came to do.”
Red Wolf argured back, speaking in Cheyenne,
traded words with both his daughter and wife,
then Mink said,”He says he will let me go,
that I bring shame to his lodge and his life.
“He says we should both ride away quickly,
that if we do so he’ll delay the chase.
He says a whore daughter is bad enough,
but bearing your son makes me a disgrace.”
Tears streamed down her face as she said the words,
her mother joined in with an acid tounge,
Reid felt something break through his burning rage,
asked, “Do you truly carry my little one?”
When Mink nodded, he pushed Red Wolf forwards,
keeping his knife at the neck of the chief,
the whole band stayed back as they walked through the camp,
Mink ran ahead and two horses did seek.
She mounted first, Reid pushed Red Wolf away,
leapt on a horse and away they did sprint,
the two kept riding for hours that night,
pushing their mounts through second and third winds.
Red Wolf, it seemed, kept his word to the two,
no pursuit was launched by the Cheyenne braves,
but Reid knew now he could never go home,
he had failed to get revenge for the raid.
In the end he took her to the white world,
back to the people he’d not known since youth,
and I see from your looks that you have doubts,
but what I’m telling you is the plain truth.
I know because my father told it to me,
of how he came to Kansas with his squaw,
I was not that child, I came later,
Mink made Gray Fox ten times over a pa.
He doesn’t talk about it all that much,
most of the details mother told to me,
but when he does, a look comes to his eyes,
a look that’s haunting too all who might see.
It’s not that he regrets moving out here,
he’s lived a life that is worthy and full,
but sometimes I think, when he gets like that,
he regrets not slaying that damn Red Wolf.
A Visit to Graceland
By Elton Camp
Although Memphis is nearby
To visit Graceland I didn’t try.
Elvis wasn’t much older than me.
So his home I really should go see.
I followed the young tour guide.
“Stay together as we move inside.”
Critics call the house tacky as can be,
But it seemed quite luxurious to me.
No rightful criticism could I make.
In Elvis’ décor I saw no mistake.
I had no decorating advice to give.
It looks better than where I live.
“Now up these stairs is his private space.
The tour to go there would be a disgrace.”
The guide pointed on down the hall.
“On Jungle room, please make a call.”
I stared at the steps with eyes so wide.
“Up there’s where he lived and died.”
I stood alone at the foot of the stair.
Without any guard in charge to care.
Seeing a chance open to few,
I decided just what I would do.
While nobody was around,
Up the stairs with a bound.
In a large bedroom on the right,
Something gave me quite a fright.
“How do you dare to come up here?”
He asked in a voice shaky but clear.
He had a shock of dyed black hair,
But in places it was growing spare.
Then his great size next me astounds.
He must weigh three hundred pounds.
“Just who do you think you are?
Nobody’s allowed to come this far.”
I felt like I was about to faint.
Surely, Elvis the King that ain’t.
“Everybody thinks I died years ago
They must continue to think it’s so.
I can never be fat and old.
So that big lie I have told.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” I cry.
“Before I would tell it, I’d sooner die.”
He looked at me with a trace of a grin.
“No way can you betray this has been.”
“Nobody would believe a story like that.
A claim you saw Elvis alive, old and fat.”
I realized it was all too true.
If I told it, the day I would rue.
Liar would become my name
For harming Elvis’ great fame.
“We know Elvis long ago died.
What type drugs have you tried?”
And right then I began to shake
Until it brought me wide awake.
My own bedroom I did then see.
In Memphis town I couldn’t be.
No matter how real it did seem,
It had been nothing but a dream.
But I didn’t really so much care
That it had only been a nightmare.
For if Graceland I ever visit for real
And find Elvis alive, I’ll never squeal.
Trim and handsome all want him to be.
No unfavorable image should they see.
From zero to fresh focus:
No fads or "hocas-pocas,"
Occult tricks, nor superstitions,
Just go to Boot-Camp not institutions.
It's not about me.
It's to take a stand, you see,
A life if convictions;
Real-life risks, no fictions,
In live with Father-God and Jesus,
His Only Son that can free us,
Unaffected by criticisms, just in Love
With other and their dialogues; all the above
Seeing hearts heal brokenness and change
With no pretense, our focus rearrange,
Processing seriously but not redundant
With you in joy abundant!
Unseen injuries make it hard work
The fears lurk!
What is expected or appreciated,
Not just reactions with heart emaciated?
Bring closure and see a prologue
To nearing the goal, remove the "log,"
Rebound in faith, never be a snob,
Nor sarcastic or the Mob.
So keep your focus and the Power
Of the resurrected Christ in your tower.
Self-control is gain
Like waiting, it's a pain!
But keep your focus clear.
Hear God's music in your inner-ear.
Yes, we are all a-work-in-progress.
It's safe and fine to regress.
To vulnerability and keep involved.
Healing doesn't need all problems solved.
There's no natural-born leader.
In time we can also be a feeder.
So conquest the temporal and material.
Move in rebuilding the empire
Let Jesus' Way be your pick.
Don't be a lonely cynic
Give others the benefit of the doubt
Wear a smile, not a pout.
Banish the evil of a derailed life
The enemy tries to bring in strife
Like the striking snake it'll be too slow
For you fly high; it's too low!
So prepare for success.
Diligently sort the mess
All the way to the end.
Sign the Pledge not to bend;
To act, rebound, giving credit and devotion.
Like a sweet perfume or lovely lotion.
In prayer and fasting let negatives go
Study the Bible's fine print and know
That the challenge and the focus brings
Support, Light and salt-quality that sings!
Can you say what you feel?
In sincerity will your friendships seal?
We will find the common ground.
Honor and respect will be found.
If there's no logic nor gentle calm,
Will we feel the Spirit's balm?
Even pillow-fights will irritate,
The time move on with fate.
Surprises will loose their fun
With that Special Someone!
So, brace yourself, focus and move.
Soon your success you will prove
With All glory given to the Lord,
Never more to be bored.
Myths About Snakes
By Elton Camp
As to snake myths, a good place to begin
Feel and see. They don’t have slimy skin
Not matter how many this fib have told,
They certainly aren’t slimy, but only cold
Though many believe, there’s no way how
A milk snake could possibly milk any cow
In a barn that type snake may well be found,
But that’s true even if there’s no cow around
A hoop snake can’t make a wheel to roll away
“But I’ve seen it,” the uninformed man will say
If they could do this, it surely would be great fun
When scared, like any other snake they will run
Another myth that need cause no iota of alarm:
Snakes can their victims hypnotize or charm
But when a dangerous snake does come near,
Some animals will “freeze” in the greatest fear
Here’s another story that is simply of no account:
Calculate a rattlesnake’s age by the rattler’s amount
Each rattle show the snake have lived another year,
That a rattle is left at each of many sheds is clear
It’s untrue that snakes in pairs will always be found
In the brief mating season is when the male is around
A snake’s “mate” never on its killer vengeance seeks
Another falsehood is what that particular myth speaks
In great danger any person may become embroiled
If he believe a snake can strike only when it’s coiled
Because that foolish belief most assuredly, isn’t right
The fact is, from any position a snake is able to bite
To believe this dangerous myth, you shouldn’t oughter
A cottonmouth is unable to bite if it is under water
How could a water snake possibly eat and survive,
If it couldn’t feed on fish and other snakes on a dive?
Another widespread belief that is quite a bad mistake:
Is that there is such a fragile creature as a glass snake
Though such an ability would be an interesting sight
If it could, when threatened, break apart and reunite
But if someone whom you know insists these are true,
There is actually not a great deal that you are able to do
The adage may apply: He who is persuaded against his will
Will almost certainly remain of the very same opinion still
P.S. There is a legless lizard that looks like a snake except that
it has eyelids which no snake has. It can break into three parts
when threatened, but can’t go back together. The end with the
head may escape and later regenerate the missing parts.