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A Poem: Swamp

December 24, 2011

A swamp sits, the waters still.
A river moves, water ever-flowing.

Water will stagnate when still,
With shores becoming filthy, infested.

When rivers meander,
They may touch those squalid shores.
This brings renewal to the swamp,
Although the river becomes sullied.

When the river reverts its course,
The swamp will return to stagnation;
The water will become filthy once more.

Gaze upon the swamp, and see:
The water does not stand still,
Silent, slowly receding.

While the swamp recedes,
The gap between the river grows.
So more must the river meander.

As the distance grows,
The river meanders less.
It’s waters stay the course
Which only they have known.

A curious thought, then:
Stagnant water, circling the drain.
Ever flowing, but remaining still.

Such is the story of the swamp.

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From → Poetry

One Comment
  1. I really like this. Particularly how you kept referring to the initial theme. It gives the poem a very nice rhythm, structure and allows it to flow (no pun intended) very well.

    Nice work here.

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