Long Moccasin Poems

Long Moccasin Poems. Below are the most popular long Moccasin by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Moccasin poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Indian Ink

INDIAN INK

Indian Accent, form the whispers inside
Chanting from long ago
Echoes come and go
Losing time in a soft eternal glow

A beautiful and delicate autumn mountain scene
Dry blue eyes enchanting melodies!
Voices fall from the sky,  rising hymns release 
   ancient demons CLINGING to the SOUL!

Darkness dwells under - gentle moonlight
Ancestors of the Spirit World!
Weaving Native smoke into the barren air
Indian spirits haunt the muddy   Earth
Moccasin makers rise from underneath,  
   While guardians of dream catchers - print the Universe
Smooth thread from the outer world. 
Arrowheads,   Ivory gems,   feathers, and illusions
I stumble upon a florid kiss.......   My veins!
Run cold, like ice through a desert night.

Winds of enchanted drums - cry out for rain
Hollow chimes mesmerize,  my ties,  my eyes
An ancient rage begins to flare --- MADNESS! 
   takes place among the sanity of  who   I am
The spear of perfumed buffalo scrapes my skin
I remove the veil that covers my eyes
The hands that cover my ears
Drying the scalp that bleeds on my face

KINDRED IN EVERY WAY!

Raven silk braids and feathers on my hair
Dancing in a horrid hallucination of Peyote,

Waking up from the “American Dream.”
Holding out my arms, I am free, I can fly,
I AM A BIRD!


Premium Member Unredacted Redactions

Then came the checkers of the facts
Patting themselves on the backs
Moccasin minds that leave no tracks
Piling up rumors in stapled stacks.

It matters not whether pro or con
They all sing a slightly twisted song
A mantra that makes the right seem wrong
Or at least filtered through an inhaled bong.

They’ve all been trained to speak with one voice
Forgetting that that is giving up choice
And chanting is naught but a lot of noise
To drown out the roar of the “preachers” Rolls-Royce.

So study the graphs, the charts, unredacted
And lean to the side to which you’re attracted
But remember the “facts” can all be retracted
With the heavy dark lines of those who attacked it.


John G. Lawless
©7/24/2022
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Dangers Everglade Animals

in the Everglades there are dangers galore
alligators, crocs, rattlesnakes, and many more….
a cottonmouth aka water moccasin would scare me back to my car
could be bitten by a brown recluse, looking for its violin scar

baby florida panther might entice me with his blue eyes
here comes mama cougar all grown, what an unfortunate surprise!
Burmese python is coming quickly to constrict out my lunch
It is too late to run, I know this is more than a hunch

a red snake, how delightful, uh-oh, I see his fluorescent yellow
I know now he is an eastern coral, a most venomous fellow
where are the black bears? Would they save me? Do you know?
I have heard they only eat plants and garbage litterbugs throw

Is that an alligator or a crocodile? Dare I get near its weird hump?
oh, yes, it’s the big one, so it’s a croc, and they can both jump!
I hear a rattling, and know I am about to be some animal’s lunch
Florida swamps are dangerous. This is more than a hunch.
Form: Rhyme

Humanity what have you become

What will it take to keep Humans alive,
I am traumatized watching CNN,
Stomach queezy,feeling uneasily numb,
It is now time to help Palestine out ,
Let’s make Earth a beautiful place to live .

Humans  have to opt for probity ,no jive,
Americans  are upset  by the Machine,
They are losing the American dream ,
It is  sad it can make a crazy dude scream,
What will it take to keep Humans alive.

Isreal third most hated State once again ,
How does that make you feel about your status? 
The States are in the third place.,
How will America liberate us?
I am traumatized watching CNN.

Capitalism destroys Nerthus-you scum,
Following pols blindly makes me want to puke,
Congress how can you applaud mass murderer?
My statement about pols is a true rebuke,
Stomach queezy,feeling uneasily numb.

Palestine is a burning house. I shout,
Diplomacy is a water moccasin,
Is there an Isreal cease fire   in sight,
Israel behaviour surely a sin,
It is now time to help Palestine out .

Hope is field of stars .This thought helps us thrive.
Trama gone. Humans chose Utopia ,
Radical mycology good for earth,
We now have  a true cornucopia,
Let’s make Earth a beautiful place to live
Form: Other

Gaza

Gaza is a burning house,no end in sight. 
Diplomacy is a water moccasin .
Israel maims their victims- a horrid plight
Bitter is a rank lime ,this war a no-win.
The Nerthus folk  shout Gaza is not right.
Benji's far right politics surely a stinking sin,

Stop the maelstrom  Now !Give peace as an olive branch 

Benji's war talk to Congress -he is such a liar.
Biden sends troops to Isreal to fight.
AntiDems and the 'cons both conspire.
Risk is a slick road- its American might.
Palestines anger is a raging fire.
No Gaza cease fire that is in sight .
Judgement  is Lady Liberty-comes for all
 The guilty combatants finally will fall

Stop the maelstrom  Now !Give peace as an olive branch 

I spread the news using X and Substack.
I am just one man. I do the best I can.
I spread the news using  Tribal too .
All of Humanity  could stop this fire.
 Either all live as one State with equal rights.
or as two States equal else perish together.

Stop the maelstrom  Now !Give peace as an olive branch
Form: Other


Premium Member Buttonhole Daisy

Buttonhole Daisy 
            by Odin Roark

My city bud and I
How we love the long walks
Daisy beneath my chin
Tucked securely in a buttonhole
Me with discovery in my eye
Maneuvering ever changing trail signs 

We walk these precipitous canyons
This forest without trees
‘cause that’s what a New Yorker does
and if nature be your thing
you take it with you

My feet tread upon sidewalk and road
Concrete and asphalt
Candy wrappers and dog doings
As safely harnessed in
Daisy wriggles for joy
Knowing it’s only for a day
But it’s her bucket list

Together we drink in
Vast canyons of rock and nesting pitches
Forged atop dry beds 
Where once flowers and soil aired freely
Fowl and beast danced in synchronous survival
Unaware evolution’s drumbeat was creating
Esplanades of another kind

Here where once crept moccasin-feet
Ever conscious of disturbing precious surroundings
Remain but a buried imprint beneath
Urban scree and mountainous bastions

Afternoon brings overhead sunshine
Peeking into the ravines
Where ant-like motion smothers the surface
Scurrying left and right
Many going nowhere

Still the light reaches us
Warming our journey
Through dens and caves of onlookers
Perhaps wondering as well
Where did all the trees go? 

By nightfall
Daisy begins to droop her head
A long day taking in so much
Has left little room for the jungle
That darkness of a city’s life
Where red and blue lights flash incessantly
Alternating with sirens
And blasts of police car Urp Urps
Giving habitual warning
Don’t attack
Don’t hit
Don’t fire
Don’t exercise evolution’s beast-like modernity

By sunrise
We arrive back at our own brownstone cave
Where sitting next to the vase of her kin
Waiting a turn to take their first time walk
Their last time remembrance
Where something besides captivity in a vase
Will fill their final hours

I take a very droopy daisy from my buttonhole
Lay her to rest beneath another page of my diary 
Lift the pen to record our day
Smile at the other daisies
Knowing their bucket list will be filled as well
And begin my daily entry

She loves me
She loves me not
She loves me…
© Odin Roark  Create an image from this poem.

Blue Ridge Nights

Above the Blue Ridge hills
flights of stealth owl
glide in from the moon.

Strange how a jungle is never quiet
but these Tennessee woods
sleepwalk along moccasin paths
watched over by the velvet foliage
of dreaming tree.

Owls are the true eagles here,
they hunt the thriving flesh
and distain all that no longer trembles.
They do not scavenge
but scatter prey before them
hunting the huntable on sonic waves.

Sometimes on a summer night I leave a cabin
to walk among the owls and nightjars.
To sit silently listening to the rustle and scurry
of a timid pulse and the silent wings
of its pursuer.

Occasionally a deer is startled
by an incautious movement
sending it crashing through the dark brush.
I do not carry a gun here, but if I did
I would never break the silence of these woods

for the voices of the dead and the living
sing in the air as softly as stars do
when reflected in the eyes of hunting owls.

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