Believe it or not, this is a fifty-page, rhyming, metered story-poem. A good friend
of mine, the late Ted Gilbert, showed me a poem from his book Eclectic Vision that
was written in the style of Robert W. Service. I was so jealous--I had been wanting to
write something in that style ever since I learned to write. Yet it also inspired me to
sit down and compose this poem, which was a lot of fun.
Several people who have this book
have enjoyed taking turns reading it aloud to their spouses at night. And breaking news:
I also have plans to write the novelized version of this poem and market them together.
A section of this poem was nominated
for a Pushcart Award the year it was published. Here's a short synopsis: A young
woman from the sewers of New York stows away in an airplane owned by poachers and
gets stranded in The Everglades. There she meets the most fantastic crew of characters
that poetry has seen in quite a long time. I guarantee you that this book is fun. The first
few stanzas are below so you can get a feel for the rhythm.
Note: this book--as well as several of my other
books--is now available as an e-book for only $2.99.
Look for it at http://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=P.+V.+LeForge.
The Ballad of Sixteen
There are not many places you see nowadays
where the grass and the water conspire
with the breeze and the rain to create and maintain
a preserve even gators admire.
But the Everglades breeds many creatures with needs;
in a mangrove, a rattler lies curled
while a crane sends its harsh cry out over the marsh.
It's a snake-eat-snake, fish-eat-fish world.
All these swamps must be strewn with old dinosaur bones
and more beercans than you can retrieve--
souvenirs old and new--but there're stories here too;
some that sane folks find hard to believe.
My name's Jumpy Jim Camp and I live in this swamp.
I spend some of my time giving tours.
I was starting to fear I'd seen everything here;
Then I spotted the girl from the sewer.
I remember the date 'cause Dorinda and Nate
had planned to get married that night.
I had outboarded out and I'd caught us some trout
at my personal trout-fishing site.
I was heading for home through the swamp and the loam
when my engine complained and conked out.
Then things got still and I heard the shrill
scared sound of someone's shout.
My outboard was old and was probably cold--
I just needed to give it more fuel.
But I'd always thought I was the first and last guy
who had fished in this stale little pool.
I looked all around for the source of the sound
but the only strange thing I could see
was the hem of a dress like a flag of distress
in the fork of an old mangrove tree.
I searched up through the leaves, but could hardly believe
what I saw when I finally did.
Two lips and some hair and a terrified stare
on the face of a rickety kid.
She was looking straight down at a patch of dark brown
that was nestled up under her branch.
Then she poked out her head and "Hey, Mister!" she said,
"There's a gator that wants me for lunch!
Well, that reptile had size and a pair of mean eyes
and its scales looked as heavy as shingles.
I've seen em so big they could swallow a pig
and so fierce they can make your skin tingle.
Their teeth are like knives and they'll grab you and dive
in a frantic and bloody ballet.
But they're easy to scare--I just started to swear
at the beast till it lumbered away.
