Long Swampland Poems
Long Swampland Poems. Below are the most popular long Swampland by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Swampland poems by poem length and keyword.
Must stay close to the WC
Senior Montezuma is laughing hysterically
Thoroughly enjoying his revenge at my expense
Didn't drink the water but it made no difference
Been back home for almost a week now
No relief in sight
Getting skinnier by the minute
Looking kind of emaciated and if you believe that
Go some gorgeous swampland in Florida for ya
I'm sure you'll be interested in
Could starve myself for a couple of weeks
And the word, “emaciated” still wouldn't apply
I imagine Senior Montezuma is getting a big kick out of this
Kind of a sick sense of humour I would say!
© Jack Ellison 2014
I walked into the castle
Up on the hills and in the glens
There she was dressed in white satin
She was wide eyed and smiling
The princess of sleep, mist of the morning
A fantasy to keep
She was an angel, all in virgin chiffon
Her life a bed of white lilies
She slept her years away
In dreams of better days
Her heart was tormented, grasping vitality
Years and years did pass
As suitors and kings came to see
Wishing for the hand of a sleeping princess
For she charmed them even in despair
In her tower, alone, solitude her only kiss
She wished for a knight in black armor
To rescue her weary soul
Travel to untold lands of happiness
Where sleeping life’s sorrows were banned
She dreamed of dances and musical romps
Dreams that never came to pass
As she slept her days away
At dusk she’d wander off, away from the castle walls
Never to return
She walked into the marshy swamps
Life was at an end
She prayed the swampland ate her whole
Never to be seen again
The ogre saw this saddened soul and felt a twinge of fear
For he cared about this sorrowful stranger
As she woke to drown her sleep away
This ogre could not bear
Surprised he jumped and pulled her close
Why do you, princess come here in despair?
She looked up at this muddy smelly soul
She smiled as the ogre saw into her wounded heart
For she knew, from somewhere deep within
She would never sleep again
Dressed in the kingdoms finest robes
She knew she was naked before his eyes
The ogre was as shocked as she
As he saw beneath her skin
This he knew was the kindest heart
The voyage was about to begin
Together they marched heart in hand
Happily sharing life’s torments
O zenith, at the apex.
What lives within thy zone?
Zodiac, thy spell is hex!
Zero at the Bone!
Narrow fellow? Let's be mellow.
Mine and thine machine.
No use saying sweet hello?
Yellow, mix with green.
O anaconda empire!
In swampland, what to dread?
Circumstances! Guns for hire!
Butter without bread!
Flame immortal, writhe within!
Blanch my dreams, O Sin!
Deadly venom, scour my skin!
Vicious fight to win!
Lord of greatest house, titmouse?
Ran right up her blouse?
O for those who gasoline douse!
Sycophant and souse!
Young sir, who ought we deter?
Real world, fade to blur.
Mongrel, pedigrees. O cur:
Life goes in a whir.
Hummingbird, wings. O hornet, stings.
Sorcerer, thy rings.
Never mind nefarious things?
Nature's ding-a-lings.
Proofs for equations, elk? Eel?
Antelope, hope. Seal:
What to buy and what to steal?
Gods of death, thy deal...
Used to be a shy and retiring type
Back then but this is now
Like a Super Hero I burst onto the scene
To share my extensive knowhow
People have never been able to stump me
I'm a master at solving stuff
Like Einstein's theory of relativity equation
That's easy, that really ain't tough
If I seriously decide to turn on the charm
Ladies will have a real hard time
Trying to resist, they'll be driven to infidelity
Not a problem, that's just fine
Before becoming this irresistible charmer
I was timid, retiring, and shy
If you can believe that wee tidbit my friends
Got some swampland you'd might like to buy
What's that you say, you think I'm joking
Can't imagine me retiring and shy
Just ask my Mom when you meet her in Heaven
I was the original Mr. Shy Guy
Used to be a shy and retiring type
Back then but this is now
Like a Super Hero I burst onto the scene
To share my extensive knowhow
© Jack Ellison 2014
Long ago when I was younger, yearn for knowledge I did hunger,
heard about a rumor going ‘round.
Twas a legend told for ages, passed along as time turned pages,
strange as any tale twas ever found.
Rumor said that near the quicksand, lived a ghost back in the swampland,
ghost of Boggy Creek always abound.
Curiosity engulfed me, through the bog I yearned to sightsee,
learning for myself the swamp’s mystique.
In the backwoods shadows shaping, Cypress trees with grey moss draping;
eerie was the scene at Boggy Creek.
Sights and sounds were so alarming, fear of finding something harming,
making me to feel so very weak.
In the dark I wandered wading, light of day was slowly fading,
slowly fading was the summer breeze.
Wading through the swampy water, searching for the spectral squatter
squatting in the swamp amongst the trees.
In the shadows echoes screeching, piercing screams my ears were reaching,
eerie screams that brought me to my knees.
‘mongst the Cypress lurked a vision, eerie figure prompts decision,
my decision turn around and run.
Running faster, screeches blaring, right behind the image glaring,
thinking that my life was almost done.
Suddenly was in the clearing, left behind the ghoul was jeering,
jeering for more terrorizing fun.
In the clear, my sweat was dripping, from the chase as ghost was nipping,
nipping ever closer to my soul.
In the sky the moon was waning, my composure was regaining,
gaining back my strength from ghoulish troll.
Ne’er again will I go wading, in the bog, ghouls haunt invading,
tempting fate in baleful boggy bowl.
It’s been forty years since searching, boggy mash for demons lurching,
hoping just to get a ghostly peek.
No more do I have a yearning, to this bog won’t be returning,
wondering about this swamp’s mystique.
I will tell you that the legend, never ever should be questioned,
after showdown deep in Boggy Creek.
Used to be a shy and retiring type
Back then but this is now
Like a Super Hero I burst upon the scene
To share my extensive knowhow
People have never been able to stump me
I'm a master at solving stuff
Like Einstein's theory of relativity equation
That's easy, that really ain't tough
If I seriously decide to turn on the charm
Ladies will have a real hard time
Trying to resist, they'll be driven to infidelity
Not a problem, that's just fine
Before becoming this irresistible charmer
I was timid, retiring, and shy
If you can believe that wee tidbit my friends
Got some swampland you'd might like to buy
What's that you say, you think I'm joking
Can't imagine me retiring and shy
Just ask my Mom when you meet her in Heaven
I was the original Mr. Shy Guy
Used to be a shy and retiring type
Back then but this is now
Like a Super Hero I burst on the scene
To share my extensive knowhow
(lol)
Dark angels dance overhead
Storm clouds swirl within my head
Smiles are the veils of hidden thoughts
Tormented souls question not what is not
Ile St Louis, a swamp of nighttime beasts
Where soon poets shall roam
All that changed, the darkness kept the same
Only evil flowers dare to grow here
I was born in the comfort of a weeping nurse
Soon bestowed to the gallows underneath
For life passed by, and left me to ponder
The horror and madness within my dreams
You kiss my lips
Passions kiss you think frees me
From the darkness where I reside
St Louis is but far off from our romps
The play, maybe a muse on a past romance
Our flirt but a dance with history
You don’t know me
For I was born in the dark
As love ripens, we turn to grapes
The evening becomes our escape
Tiss you who have drowned me
In Seine, is where I rest
You don’t know me
My lover and killer
As I float away
From l'ile St Louis
Footnotes:
This poem is truly Edgar Allen Poe! Ile St Louis is the smaller of 2 islands in Paris on the Seine. It used to be swampland and crazing for cows, and in fact was the original Paris. Of course it was later developed, and many a famous persons have lived there, one being, Charles Baudelaire a French poet, whom is famous for a few things, the first being his poetic works called “ Fleur du Mal “ ( Flowers of Evil ) and thus the line in my poem “Only evil flowers dare to grow here”. However Charles Baudelaire also discovered the works of Edgar Allen Poe and proceeded to translate Poe’s works into French.
In Seine, is where I rest, well what can I say, I am insane, and thus this is one of my favorite lines!! :) As for Ile St Louis, I can only say, in Canada it is truly and island all alone!
In a misty fog enshrouded pool
of blue and green, so dark and cool
something stirs both to and fro
it's unlike anything you know
It's more like something that you fear
and you would dread to venture near
From old branches moss grows long
as swampland creatures sing their song
A figure passes through the gloom
tall and broad this shadow looms
Within this watery realm it's bound
beyond the threat of being found
In seeming solitude it wanders
deep inside, what does it ponder?
In this primeval greenery
amidst the verdant scenery
mysterious creation stands
on two legs, and with two hands
The boogeyman of ancient lore?
Here in the flesh from days of yore?
Did it spring from mystic mind?
A shambling tulpa left behind?
Man-like ape, or ape-like man?
Nature's indecisive plan?
Can it exist, yet leave no trace,
this shadow being with no face?
A puzzling duality
at odds with this reality
Perhaps it isn't really here
a stark reflection of our fears
Just what it is, I'll leave it be
within that swamp so far from me
For I'm not brave enough to go
discover more than I now know
It's better left a mystery
A question mark in history
It gives me comfort to believe the ivory billed woodpecker exists
Somewhere in dense swampland in the bowels of Louisiana
Where people do not often go, for it is a beauty.
Largest woodpecker in the world with a wing span of thirty inches.
It makes me sad to think that we have eliminated this gorgeous bird.
I like to think of them peeling dead bark off hardwood trees.
Deep in the forest, eating beetle larvae and persimmons.
I hope they exist, I hope they are not extinct.
Sadly, the last accepted sighting in Cuba was in 1987,
And the last verified sighting in the USA was in 1944.
I plan to keep my imagination traveling in a world of hope.
That the Ivory billed woodpecker exists somewhere.
The British traded with Major Murfree,
a galling fire the redcoats did see,
while Wayne waded through the deep swampland,
at the front a corps of axemen did walk,
to cut down abbatis that might still block,
the slogging pace of Wayne’s fine, picked men.
Crossed the marshes, ‘cross the strand,
to where the recoats awaited,
then charged up behind their first line,
it was not anticipated,
British guns were quickly raided,
they stormed up Stony Point.
In the fight a ball hit General Wayne,
skimmed his skull, but did not reach his brains,
he fell down, unconscious on that great night.
But his men pushed on and proved their worth,
soon joined by Butler’s men from the north,
redcoats were forced to give up the fight.
British troops then trapped of all side,
Major Johnston, their commander
ordered them to lay down their arms,
to the patriots surrender,
a defeat they’d long remember,
they had lost Stony Point.
Washington arrived after two days,
on Stony Point, surveyed the terrain,
amazed that on such ground his troops has won.
Clinton’s plan was unraveled and dashed,
no great fight would happen at long last,
his plans in the north were not quite done.
Anthony Wayne was know to say
in his report on the frenzy,
that his men had fought on like those
‘who are determined to be free.’
in darkness they made their foes bleed,
when they took Stony Point.