Night Terrors Poem by Willie Walker
Night Terrors
Night Terrors
Whippoorwill calls in the swamp at night,
Lonely soul, flies it's fluttering flight.
Panther prowls with silent, slinking tread.
'Hit screams lak a woman, ' grandma said.
The swamp is deep, black and cold.
Cottonmouth grows big, mean, and old.
The moss grows thick, like hair on a hog.
It hides the critters that hide in the bog.
'Don't ye go 'air, boy, ' my grandma said,
'Now listen to me, child, or end up dead.'
'If ye be seen in 'at ol' Gator's eye,
Ye mark muh words, ye'll shorely die.'
Oh so this must be full with golden memories you have.. Could say this is sentimental touch for yourself, but also refreshing me too..it's lovely to see how nature bring us smile after many years we gone through...full memories and melody! ! _Unwritten Soul
I grew up in the Southern swamps. It was beautiful and ethereal. Grandma told me to respect the swamp and it's denizens. Though I lived in southern California for a half century, the swamp in part of my soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/11/2024 5:51:16 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Wow! That is such a beautiful painting of a part of your history! I loved it!