Long Marsh Poems
Long Marsh Poems. Below are the most popular long Marsh by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Marsh poems by poem length and keyword.
The trees crowd in along the broken trail,
sunlight tries to push through, but mostly fails,
straight trunks spread out and obscure distant gaze,
there’s eyes out there, watching, afraid they’re prey.
Ahead a break grows larger with each step,
cerulean against the forest depth,
the summit rock cresting half of the peak,
this vantage sought by many weary feet.
Red squirrels chitter and dash as I emerge,
I want to shout, but I restrain the urge,
swellings of peaks spread out like tapestries,
their secrets hid beneath the endless trees,
a slash of gray where earth cuts through in stone,
Mother Nature is lost without her bones,
then rips of blue, a ribbon swaggers slow
to wild ponds saved by being remote,
marsh meadows near sometimes reveal a moose,
but today only mallards are in view.
Beyond this lies a scar, a bigger lake,
fringed by cabins and docks, stretching out straight,
above it all vultures fly on the breeze,
their slow circles effortless and lazy,
to think such birds get this view every day…
Who knows if again I will pass this way.
Man must live with enough, not
with the exorbitant...
We need to be happy
with the happiness of others
around us... thus,
we will live in peace...
But first of all, we need
to have the courage to live in peace!
Distributing is not impoverishing ourselves
materially to help
those who are wronged... doing that is a saintly thing...
we are not that good yet!
But giving, giving ourselves a little more,
is divine... EST MODUS IN REBUS!
As written before, even to do good,
one must have courage...
Returning, living with good principles
we will certainly evolve...
As the poet
Américo Falcão once wrote: "The way God
created things, even the frogs in the marsh
will be angels one day."
Let us be brave, let us distribute
let us give a little more... this is how
God likes and wants it!
Deep blood red orange cloud’s,
ethereal dream float,
satin wind carrier of luscious mint,
green hymnody’s deft transport,
Spring hues random loitering,
between gray peeled branches,
chirpy echo squeak,
from red-wing blackbird,
a fragile wafer tin threshold,
golden stream gurgle,
under marsh reeds,
evanescent saline grain haze,
azure ocean tide aroused,
from still wave slumber,
clamshell pearl strewn oyster,
oddments interspersed,
on pockmark sandstone beach,
iridescent canopy of nature trail,
awaits the first blush pilgrim,
who revels in luscious glimpses,
and sumptuous earworm madrigal,
a tantalizing world so close,
glad tiding raptures,
from the camper awakened,
coffee caper bean whiff aromatic,
quencher of dust road harsh throat,
splatter free rapeseed oil,
daub on an iron pan,
wild howl from prehistoric wolf,
so quaint in its primal sweep,
hair-raising backdrop to stir fry meal,
tinplate dollop sated hunger
Fishing Holiday
A kingfisher sitting on the old harbour wall
Listening to the geese from the mud flats call
I'm here for some sea fishing until after the thaw
Braced against the north wind so cold and raw
No Kamikaze diving into a frozen pond
The quickest route through to a life beyond
I need to cut a hole to fish with rod and line
To catch minnows like an Eskimo for my tea time
A sound of crunching from the lake what can it be
I fly over the marsh to take a look and see
Two swans are on the salt lagoon a winter wonderland
I watch from the sluice gate where the water is damned
The leaders pushing through the thick sea ice
Slowly inching forward, heroic self-sacrifice
Jet propulsion is required, web feet redesigned
Whilst tail end Charlie swims serenely behind
The Buntings skating through the reeds ask me to stay
But I've frost bitten feathers and don't want to play
The brochure promised beaches and sunshine every day
I am flying further south for my next Seaside holiday
Keyhaven Marshes, 17th January 2023
I walk...
into
d a w n;
d r i f t i n g above me
are marshmallow clouds
in a cyan-blue sky
smiling down at me...
is a crescent moon
tweeting to me from a tree
an early bird...
Good morning to you, too!
I walk back in...
my wife's busy brewing joe,
a mouth-watering morning staple!
waiting for a hug
my toddler, Izzy
looking so happy...
to see "DaDa" back!
The raccoon was brazen
Bold, devilishly handsome
I fell in love quickly
I know. Raccoons are no good for opossums
But the heart wants who the heart wants.
We met on a warm day
in the throes of summer
He was eating cat food when I arrived
to the consternation of a gray tabby
who was sitting on a prissy
large-flowered puffy porch chair.
“spoiled princess”, the gentleman said
with his large bandit eyes.
“brat probably” I replied, demurely, flicking my pink tail.
He stopped eating and looked at me for second.
Wandered off porch, giving me the rest of the food.
Lights began flickering on and off.
I thought it was lightning at first
Then a large WallyGeemer tromped out.
He was in his underwear.
I flipped to my side, pretending dead.
“EDNA!” the WallyGeemer screamed.
I had heard this voice before.
It is a voice of fear.
He went back inside and slammed the door.
I was halfway back to the marsh when the
generous Raccoon stepped into my path.
“Would you um like to um…”
“Of course,” I said.
And we did.
The furtive idea, flares ghost-ignited,
in a fevered yellow-blue glimmer,
on the edge of sight,
just out of reach,
beckoning you towards it.
Pirouetting, bobbling and whirling,
above the sodden, choking, black mire
of mundane, numbed and stale thoughts.
You draw near,
It slips away.
Crawl closer.
It slings away.
Try to snatch a side-ways glance—
It dissolves,
like a phantom mirage.
But this will-o'-the-wisp—
this alluring fiery gas spirit
is undeniably real.
It’s not an illusion,
but a seductive snare,
a promise left dangling, festering, unmet,
until cornered, captured,
shattered and scorched,
torn, beyond recognition
by the ruthless pursuit,
in the reek of the marsh-fume ooze,
before dusk, devours the day.
Three thousand chairs are crammed across the field,
A sea of cheap black gowns and melting ice.
We’re sitting trapped without a sunlit shield,
While sweat drips down my neck to mock me twice.
The principal yells names at breakneck pace,
A steady roar from "Aaron" down to "Zane."
I’m stuck somewhere around the middle space,
My rear is numb, my brain feels like pure pain.
By letter M, the afternoon turns harsh,
Lost in a sea of gowns forevermore.
Are we graduating or trapped in a marsh?
The kid beside me starts to nod and snore.
Three thousand names read off without a pause—
I only stayed because my mom said I had to!
He knew he had rubbed against some big shoulders.
Some like him and other were anoyed. What bothered him was they all existing relationships of there own. Some were ones you didn't wanna get involved with, some were brotherish, some were fools who aligned for fun and entertaining the boss. The one where you were instructed to stroke the ego, of top ranked superstars often meant learning a something that detailed your place in the company. some of these relationships were real, these guys almost lived together. I remember one friday night the camera guy told me that saturday starts after friday, I thought he was helping me with being on time. But this jerk drank a six pack in my locker room knowing the boss uses the new guys lockerroom as his office, to help the new guys get instruction. Five members of the staff were in this large lockerroom with me and two new guys, and we separated to get dressed, well we had private roomes and showers,I showered and came out, and the boss asked me if i had a problem. I said know, he pulled up a bag and asked whats this? I said it aint mine. He leaned over to sniff me. And then the jerk came in and said it mine. It didn't do me any favors, later the Boss told me I should have told him it was the camera guys' what's up with that Jerk or something. Then I realized, they was positioning me. He stuck me in With Giant Crusha, the big guy who doesn't understand his own strenght. I was bruised, banged up and the next night he booked me againstSwainson Thrush and Marsh Wren, they tossed me out the ring in that handicap match, and dove down on me from every angle.
I looked up and masked men were flying everywhere. Man dude got me cornered and his elbow busted up me mouth. I had to get a manager man. I thought my mind and soul was solid enough
to get me through changes, but man dealing with people and taking care of contractual deals man: swamp aint big enough for the fox and the grouse.: croons the mockingbird. Sometimes the fox needs a little guidance. Thats why I hired the Services of Super Acco. Make the swamp into a lake let me do my thang! Factors of Producing a World Class Where to be admired. I'm the best Where anybody have ever seen! Kayfade, or starred I am the where: where they all wanna be!
"... could not stop for death - he kindly stopped for me -
the carriage held just ourselves and immortality."
~Emily Dickinson
Death, be kind to me when you glide,
Be not severe or harsh,
For together we have to ride,
Till we cross this earth marsh,
The carriage that your horses bring,
Let it come with comfort,
For we're gonna meet the Dayspring,
When I've enough slumbered,
Crossing to immortality,
Where life is forever,
Looking forward with hope to be
with my Saviour ever.
29th May 2023
Contest: Writing Challenge - C quotes
Sponsor: Constance La France