Swamplands and all

A Poem by Abraxasbird

Swamp life

Not adulations nor salutations
would thwart me transfixed, it seemed obsession
to remain in my grey abyss
without horizons nor the suns promise

The perfect pretext of grandesque

Ruminating over every detail,
tirelessly scrutinizing issues
religiously in my self imposed jail
for a soul contused and a love misused

a maggot-infested, hollow tree shattered
Punished, tested under the weight of blunder
sunken, damp, and feeble in the swampy somber
Muddled and encroached by countless failures

Haunted by the memory of fresh green,
the scent of a sweet-smelling fresh breeze,
and the flash of gold amidst dark leaves;
The ghost of an echo permeates softly.