Walking in the woods by a swamp. You see a weeping willow that looks comforting. So you lay by the willow just inches from the swamp water and take a nap.

When I dream, there are usually elements of things I had seen, heard or read about the previous day. My dreams are often lucid. Last night was no exception.

Ferdinand and his triceratops follow a pair of parasaurolophuses deeper into the forest.

A haiku about swamp oaks.

A brief poem, in extended Haiku format.

There is a secret hidden out in the swamp.

A short ghost story about a boy who’s ancestor was a murderer and a man he kills remains as a ghost and haunts a swamp nearby where the boy lives. Please read and comment on what you think of it.

There once was a swamp that wasn’t visited by many. Many people heard stories about spirits and ghosts appearing at the swamp. They say that once you go there, you never come back.

You make me who I am, causing me to fall completely and utterly over my feet in love with you. Thanks for completing me. I love to sink into your arms.

I recall with the greatest clarity of mind, the chance meeting I had with Three Toes, an old mountain lion that lived deep within the swamp and bog infested area of the mountains back home. The mountain lion had earned this name because he was able to outsmart those that ventured into the forest and swampy areas in hopes of trapping him. Many a trapper would stop by the village and tell tales about a huge demon cat that stalked them and often destroyed their trap lines.