Long Savannah Poems
Long Savannah Poems. Below are the most popular long Savannah by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Savannah poems by poem length and keyword.
For weeks now the two young males had been watching,
waiting for their opportunity and now it was time.
They were now strong enough to take over the pride.
Signalling his intent to his brother Moto stood up
and started forward with Javier following behind.
As the reached the pride a battle royal ensued
The lionesses desperate to drive them off knowing
if they succeeded vast changes would occur.
Far in the distance Soto heard the roars and growls
as the take over ensued and rushed to protect them.
The fight was long and hard with some fatalities.
Soto received wounds that would take months to heal
as he was banished by the brothers, his life now as an outcast.
Luckily for him Zanidar joined him with her cubs of nearly a year old
She and they would keep him fed as he slowly healed.
Back at the pride the brothers set about their gruesome task
all the cubs were hunted down and killed without mercy.
Now the lionesses would soon be ready to mate again
and it would be their blood that the offspring would bear
perpetuating their line and increasing the size of the pride.
Life in the African Savannah was always cruel and hard
the brothers would face many challengers in their time.
Food always an issue once the migrating herds moved on.
Now a time of little the pride suffered and grew weaker.
The only saving grace was the buffalo not without their risks.
Valiant fighters who protected each other forming a ringed barrier
around the more vulnerable, ready to fight to the death.
With very young cubs the lionesses needed food to feed them
and desperation drove them on, finally they made a good kill
none would go hungry for a few days. In the distance the clouds
gathered rain falling far up country at last reaching them and
with the rain the vast herds once more returned and life teemed.
Now was a time of plenty and the pride recovered their health.
For seven years the brothers ruled supreme yet in the background
there were many waiting their own time. Two males in particular
Janto and Batso sons of Soto watched and waited eager to take over
until at last it was their time and turn to roust the pride males.
And so the never ending cycle started again until the next time.
Two majestic lords of the African Savannah,
Strike without cautions warning, or roar's announcement.
Nomads, prides outcasts, existing on the fringes edge of
Survival.
Instinct's primal predators, golden phantoms, shadows
Haunted silhouettes passing in the night, casting eerie images
Against canvas tents, and fire lights burning embers.
On heightened senses of enticement, these living
Killers, smell their preys fear, thus so crossing the line,
Cutting deeply into man flesh, leaving bloody paw prints
Behind them, and giving birth to their own legend.
Translucent specters, blending mirages melting,
Within the tall grasslands scrub brush, as if creatures
Of illusion, brushed by the hot Massai winds.
Caddish yellow-green eyes, pierce through humanities
Nightmare realm, for in reality's harsh view, it cannot
Be real, these ghosts in the darkness.
Carnivorous hunters patrol, the devils backbone,
Known as Tsavo, skeletal bone collectors,
Relishing in their trophies prize, beware their talons
Sharpened claws.
Man-eaters, rulers of this lost garden of Eden,
In the lions den, the bones of the dead scream in silence.
In this blood sports arena, these kings dominate over
The kingdom of men, dominion’s red cloak, is
Soaked in crimson's red, dripping freshly downwards
Towards hells cavern.
Mankind's greed, does drive this army of the walking dead,
Stalked by these feline demons, of the nights abyss.
Progresses iron horse must reach the African interior and
If poundage cost be in flesh and bone let it be so, paid.
Rushing waters forge, laid by steel rails bridge builder,
The holy architect whom carries, the long rifle of justice,
Assumes responsibility's heavy shovel, of the living dead's
Burial grounds.
Man vs. beast, teeth vs. bullets gunpowder, in the rising
Suns twilight, one shots sounding ends the fight, and alone
Lord remains to grieve for his fallen brethren.
In rages vengeance, the last warrior declares angers wrath,
And he is so slain by hail's gun blast.
But in Tsavo, the people still watch, for in legend, ghosts
Never truly die, yet remain hidden unto the hunger returns,
Beware, these ghosts in the darkness.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Love like hope betides,
nature is her ere scene,
what if the world would host, tis,
things flowing monsters, if wise, otherwise,
oh!, I think that the earth,
has blue and green and red...,
a little calendar of this savannah.
As the border is not based,
since nothing tends towards.
Alas!, what I can see willingly or unwillingly,
nature is beautiful and horizon rainbow,
were the earth wild there is a prayer of holy,
were this life frenzy and spoiled still there is throw,
alas!, besides this longing of centuries,
alas!, besides this civilization trails,
alas!, besides this cultivation of memories.
How when a need arises society frowns,
how it will use basic there drowns.
But, the tale is gloom if it is held,
if it is tis thou relied,
what I cannot depend upon is a restraining mood,
one turned wild and one turned fiend,
nature says her love and butterfly her ecstasy,
and nature dreams and dreams,
oh!, nature is but a factory.
And even on it, a child claims poesy,
is not, for a trival reject,
since to shed a light on this contemporary horizon,
since nothing is for nothing or non.
Like here I fancied a ribbon of tide,
I think this part even is around,
is their IDs beheld tie,
then next I bound and found,
ere nature is democratic, better indeed,
since two is many a time paired,
and desire alone is a rare bond.
On an occasion in life,
it matters the experience but none to falter,
because it is to at least bind.
Ah!, if a little wave,
escape tomorrow like charcoal of ruins,
and this difference in life,
the earth on her revolution contends,
thus not that what is not known,
is acted to the favour of greed,
because it was not known at a dawn.
Now like a bee he/she is around within this frail,
what then clarity connects us concerning this trail?,
it actions are just nightmares,
alas!, a worst form of such vile sought reward,
worst is last lost failures.
Now odd is a life depending on such a mod,
for may be it is ruined,
I cannot hold that I was torn and scared,
somewhere nor hold that I failed or missed,
this same fancy to fun the earth,
later I didn't mis entail,
and now is happy and wish to fold.
I’m just a little caterpillar
That’s all I’ll ever be
Sometimes I like to dream
That I could be a bee
What a joy it would be
To fly higher than a tower
Or when I’m feeling lazy
Settle down on a yellow flower
BUT I’m not
Im just a little caterpillar
That’s all I’ll ever be
Sometimes I wish I could be a …..
Magnificent Cheetah!
Sprinting through the savannah
At 75 miles per hour
A blur of tan and black spots
It’s like a super power!
BUT I’m not
Im just a little caterpillar
That’s all I’ll ever be
Sometimes I like to imagine
That I could be a dragon
Living on a cloud
Breathing fire through the night
High above the ground
That would be a sight
BUT I’m not
Im just a little caterpillar
That’s all I’ll ever be
OWWWW!!!! A sharp pain inside
I think I’m going to go and hide
Building a barrier between me and the world
Now the pain has turned into an ache
I’ve got to finish
Before my heart breaks
I’m all alone and on my own
Trapped inside this little space
With no one to see my fear.
Wishing I could feel your warm embrace
You left me deserted
With my faith slowly dwindling down.
No one to boost me up
No one to help me be found
Darkness is all I see
My tears is all I feel
My sobbing is all I hear
“Grandma” is all I can squeal
Every minute I’m growing older.
Every second becoming more claustrophobic.
But, no one’s around me
No one will notice
Panic hits me all of the sudden.
What if I can’t escape?
I’ll be trapped all by myself
Like an isolated ape
Then I remember your favorite song
A Child's Prayer, Oh how you used to sing
You used to always tell me
“Pray, and God will help you with anything”
I kneel down on my knees
And begin to pray
“Please, help me with the pain
Help me get out of here today.”
I raise my head and look up
Something is twinkling up above
Light!!! There’s a crack in the wall
With all my force I give it a shove
I'm free!!!!
Them I realize something strange
I can’t even believe what I see.
I’ve changed…
I’m just a little caterpillar
But, that’s not what I’ll always be
Because now I’m a beautiful butterfly
Much better than a bee.
Dar es salaam where I live means heaven of peace
But to me she has proved as well to be a haven of peace.
A peaceful place for any peace-loving person or race.
Atleast selfishly from here seem faraway all warring feuds all bloody massacres.
For here we simply catch sea and fresh water fishes
instead of getting caught up in goddamned skirmishes.
Oh and I live in a land of seven wonders and I stay in a mansion of seven windows
Each of them overlooking a different view
Guys, seven wonders to be exact
but be ready here for both fiction and fact
For I present to you these seven wonders of this land
as if I could view 'em' all from where I stand.
Ah and though I've settled down trying to be content with Tanzania.
A major part of me will always belong to my beloved India.
Well, well my first window has a view of Mount Kilimanjaro
the highest mountain in all of Africa
Rightfully named, the Roof of Africa.
The 2nd window overlooks
Lake Tanganyika
and fishermen with nets and hooks
in the 2nd deepest and longest lake in the whole wide world.
And from my third window can be seen
the famed, fabled and very pretty
Natural park known as Serengeti
Nature's celebrated celebrity.!
The 4rth window affords a view of the wide Ngorongoro Crater
Just as rich in wildlife
Throw some fish to the 'gator
even if it's such a ruthless predator.
The 5th one it overlooks
The great game reserve Mikumi by name
no less in fame
for a choicest variety of game.
As for the 6th window, from there you can see
Lake Victoria too
and I play peek-a-boo
with a marvelous maribou
and cheerily say 'karibu'
from the largest lake in all Africa.
The seventh, the last window gives me a view
of the dry lush gold-green sea of Savannah
Teeming with favorite flora and fauna
Here a rhino, there a hyena
and hee hee 'hear' that mynah
So now it's up to you to plan a trip, a Safari
to this land of precious Tanzanite, the land of the Maasai
.Aha, mind you only the mansion overlooking all that is fictional
and every other detail is soo real and factual.
Anferny was convinced that all
his problems were due to his skin,
he’d been told by teachers, and his mom,
that there was just no way to win.
He grew up believing he was part
of an awful, bigoted nation,
that he could never survive without
hand-outs and reparations.
He never tried to keep a job,
wouldn’t be caught ‘acting white,’
believed that he was a victim,
an thus had extra moral ‘rights.’
Spent all his days scraping by
on a meager monthly check,
turned to drugs to hide the fact
that his whole life was a wreck.
On welfare until he was forty,
when an overdose his heart rent,
Anferny relied on the government,
Anfery died on the government.
Savannah, she was quite a beauty,
and knew that fact all too well,
she battled her lashes and the boys
ran up as if she’d rung a bell.
But she believed she ‘needed no man,’
and always flitted from guy to guy,
content to ride on the carousel,
seeking nothing but a good time.
Until one day she was thirty-six
and decided to find a husband,
but her looks had faded noticeably,
she could no longer hook a man.
With no real skills to fall back on,
she turned desperately to the state,
she later died, alone and poor,
found with her cats eating her face.
Her final decades spent miserably,
living on other folk’s dollars and cents,
Savannah relied on the government,
Savannah died on the government.
Paul fought for his county overseas,
he did all his country could ask,
never a foe did he let escape,
he took our enemies to task.
He came home and live his life,
made good money as an auctioneer,
until three years later when he went
to a veteran’s doctor in fear.
He’d found a lump, and the biopsy
showed it to be a malignant growth,
a cancer that was aggressive,
it was a hard and heartbreaking blow.
They began chemotherapy,
but they started it too late,
because of bureaucratic fools
who'd made a paperwork mistake.
By the time they got it right
his last remaining strength was spent,
Paul had trusted in his government,
Paul died on his government.
Oluwapemi... your name is soft to the ears... your name speaks peace...
Your name is the soothing ointment of the troubled mind
It sounds like the luculent laughter that comes with the dawn when the turbulent Night is conquered...
It is the extant song of the cuckoo bird in springtime when the greenery blossoms,
and it echoes like the plaintive notes of the first rains sent forth to quench the thirst of the long dehydrated Savannah...
Oluwapemi!
You are the dew of my morning, the freshness that envelops my Night,
and your even-tempered voice like my mother's, is like the cicadas that heralds the break of my dawn
You are the beam from which I draw my strength; the roof over my head, the lintel of my shelter-the pillar thereof,
and the marble upon which I cast my verse...
Oluwapemi!
Your breath is enlivening like the tender breeze that blows beneath the tamarind tree at dusk when the Sun is at rest...
The scent of your hair is like the smell of cinnamon, like the surpassing fragrance of cassia,
your haloed eyes, mild like a dove's, are the Sun and Moon of my Earth, your face my dazzling mirror!
Your waist to the shoulders is like cornfield in the Savannah upon which the young deer gallops,
the verdure on which the reindeer refreshes, the resting place of the poet,
and with your limbs like a wild gazelle's, you leap gracefully against the vanishing rays of the ephemeral sunset...
Oluwapemi!
Name of gold-that is the name that brings comfort to the restless soul
Oluwapemi...
Lady of the Sycamore, epitome of purity, healing balm, priceless jewel, glittering gold
My song, my Muse, my goddess!
You are black and beautiful-the true colour of nature;
and your beauty transcends the laws of time which makes you the delight of the poet...
I will proclaim your name... I will proclaim your name...
Oluwapemi... Oluwapemi... that is your name
Diamond in the morning sun, fresh wine from the vine...
My pride, my mirth, my perfect poetess!
Who possesses the semblance of your comeliness?
Whispers of Lace
Arms folded; He sits. A grandfather clock ticks it's way to a song, in a lonely
room.
It had taken ten years and thirty-five days to get to this place. He was here
now, for better or worse.
"For better or worse. " She had said those words to him a lifetime ago.
He woke early one morning, to the song of a finch, the harsh cry of a crow.
She never heard; she was already gone. She lay in her floral gown, ashen
and cold.
A traveling salesman by trade, a botanist by dream. Forgotten interstates
and dirt roads, had been his companion. Flowers were his inner passion; his
vocation took him to many.
She always greeted him at the front door. He could still feel the wetness of
her lips on his cheek; and the soft whispers in his ear. "I miss you."
"I miss you too. " the words tumble silently from his tongue. A lonely tear
falls, floating on the polished table. The grandfather clock sings. It is time.
Men and women enter the room. They look at the old man, skeptics every
last one. They sit on their chairs, a fragrance bottle in front of each judge.
Corporate critics, responsible for seducing the world with scent.
Grabbing their appointed bottles;He bows his head. Fragrance fills the room.
Enchanting images of the old man flood their minds. What witches ' spell is
this?
Cherry blossoms in Savannah, cactus flowers from the desert, the elusive
ghost orchid of the everglades. His image dances around petals. Some
smile , some weep, others dream.
Eyes closed, chin on chest, he thinks of her. Her maple coffin, casket open.
Her formal gown, black, ebony lace collar.
Fragrance in the air, and tears, bring her to life. “Tell us sir, what do you call
this? "
Raising his head, their faces all look with wonder. He can see the tears, He
can see smiles on their lips. He can see her.
Standing, he starts to leave, with a turn of his head, he utters. " Whispers of
Lace "
Kenneth Kerry.
Sgt. Bedlam of heavy artillery reporting sir
Bedlam I want you to pick the runt of the litter
and turn him into an agent assassin
with the clandestine power of hypnotism
yes Generalissimo I am here to obey
decked out like a burlesque revue warlord
his Mauser cigar lighter on his belt
a curlicue mustache and a pie tin helmet
Opal his opium fiend gun moll squirming in his lap
was our Generalissimo
Bedlam weighed the coming abrasions
concluded we are our scars and furthermore
if adaptation is survival so is parasitism
cleared his throat noisily and bowed an exit
later that fate laden candle lit night
he made a deep study of his globes and charts
Europa Asia Oceana the Steppes the Savannah
the Scorched Hills of Malibu
a map addict re-educated in the cleanup of '89
his bell-shaped curve insisted love me
server and served a beautiful thing
if one enjoyed giant jungle arachnids and leeches
and centipedes that crawl up your butt
to lay millions of eggs when you sleep
where the laws of physics become
a tumbling burbling retinal stew
geysering steam and sulfur and mud and
where was I oh yah
yet a thing of beauty was Opal to Bedlam
he heard scratching and purring at the door
it was she incognito in an iguana skin
we must escape this hideous circus of shame
she coo coo rooed as her tongue dove into
the holy fissure in his brain
and he threw caution to the feral hogs
forgetting good posture he oozed upon Opal
I bet you think you make your own decisions
she cloyed and again he tossed caution
into a cauldron of grunting mammalian rut
for several hours perhaps the entire weekend
it's easy to rewire a human
you just give them a little epiphany
and bingo ownership
his hypnotic gambit paid off in ducats
the Generalissimo slept like a corpse
the pet centipedes concluded their labors
his ex-kingdom rejoiced at their new liberty
and that's anarchy for ya
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
These leopard eyes warily see
another crimson dawn
on the cold concrete Serengeti
A scarlet sun
shaped like the barrel of a gun
Dark plume of heat
triggers the survival instinct scatter
Watch the bulls-eye prey run
Where to in the confusion?
It doesn’t matter ...
I see every bent knee flee the fatal gather
And the hard asphalt ground
is soaked with cull pleasure splatter
Such cruel reign,
heated shell cases falling
on a barren plain
Torrential stains
fear clouds another powerless pain day
Shattered bones in the herd traffic fray,
cast carcass shadows on the smeared terrain
Listen to the Serengeti dirge refrain
Unrelenting spherical storm of violence
hold saltpeter spittle sway
Last rites spoken,
whether vain poacher say:
Expect more endless safari days!
These leper spots wearily feel
bewilderedbeest misery
Great paleheart hunters of colony cage-makers
roam conscience-free
on the cement-dried Serengeti
Thus be the hunted fate
we eclipse-coated [e]scapegoats tear bleed
The killing fields of poverty
is the gravel grass on which we daily feed
Closed-eyes witness the hopelessness stampede
Open wound testimony
ain’t necessary
when the muzzled silencer takes a sniper bead
And the holstered predators
with the rifle-scope gaze
Whose mercantile hue eyes, masked in blue camouflage,
trespass the boundaries of morality
Nimrod brood coin collectors
set the savannah air ablaze
Human hunters’ breath gives Death a smoking homage,
iron-copper cry of Serengeti tragedy
Perforating enamels on metallic patrol,
their pelt-piercing lust has devolved
into the next caveman iteration
From runaway chattel catchers to gated property protectors,
their trophy wall filled with
gory plaques of commendation
Seems like these sullen safari days are grief endless
And every red blot
on this paved prairie,
flatline view Serengeti
Will be trodden down erased by each bullet confess
08-16-21