“swamp gas”

Written for:  The Twiglets #159 – “swamp gas”

Ah, The Northern lights
neon gold, green, and purple
Oh, it’s just swamp grass

He suffers from swamp grass
fever, often turning emerald green.

She stumbled into a swamp.
The resultant redolent gases
were more than her friends could bear.


While exploring localized marshes
he slipped in oversized galoshes
A bog broke his fall
exploded in a ball
but his launch proved to be his catharsis.


About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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2 Responses to “swamp gas”

  1. Jules says:

    Oy if we could smell those northern lights! But you can even if you are not close smell Old Faithful!
    Fun reads. I really enjoy your Limericks too!


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