The Swamp

I’ve written this poem but don’t know where it fits in. I figured the woods would be good to tell it to.

My eyes are red and burn
Stained with tears
A spiral in my mind
Downward downward
Towards the black abyss
The swamp of abandonment
Dotted with the dead, rotting trees of hope

My hands are tied
Wrists soar from the struggle
Heart weary
This miscommunication could end it all

The swamp closes in upon me
Ominous and foreboding
I’m drowning in the quicksand

~ by Sarah Ann on January 15, 2007.

5 Responses to “The Swamp”

  1. Descriptive and fits in with the shadowy parts of the woods very nicely. It’s been filed in there as well 😉

  2. FITZ SEED: “drowning in the quicksand”

    while the blending of the
    ‘sands of time’ and ‘waters of rebirth’
    may quicken the grasping draw
    toward returning to the past and all …

    it is only the struggling that will consume you,
    while learning to float and drift
    will allow for a refreshened view,
    new thought-strokes —
    and cast ripples into your future,
    and eternity.

    . . . . . . . . . . . Bard of Lemuria

  3. Woods can be light and airy, but they can be dark and shadowy places as well. I’ve been in woods that have sent tingles of fear up my spine while others have had me dancing with delight.

  4. Yes, it does fit in well in the shadowy part of the woods. Reminds of the bleak days of depression.

  5. Your struggle fits in anywhere. Quicksand in the murmuring woods. Lucky I have a rope. Here, I’ll tie it to this tree and throw out the end. Can you reach it?

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