|
Life on the Mississippi
by Joe CramerOn the high banks of the river we call the Mississippi
On this levee we sat watching muddy water roll by.
I've never viewed the headwaters, where it all begins.
I have lived at this end, this delta some 90 miles below New Orleans.
Past Buras, Port Sulphur, Venice and Pilottown,
Shimmering in a soft Gulf of Mexico haze.
Helicopters flit, to and fro
On their predestined missions
To the rigs, the drilling and workover
Platforms that offer such
Life giving oil and gas to a nation
Always hungry for so much more.
I've seen a whole lot of rivers,
In the sum of my days,
The Colorado, the Danube, the East
Though none have been as majestic to me
As the mighty Mississippi.
Mark Twain still calls out depths at the Natchez turn,
Cruising south, wary of sandbars, fog, other riverboats
Dotting this turbulent travail of water cascading by.
I swam in it just once, on a fool's dare.
Muddy as my soul, when I die
Dump my body in just below the Crescent City.
By the time I hit the delta in Plaquemines Parish
Nothing will be left of me
Except more fodder in the silt of the Mississippi. 01/28/2008 Author's Note: to growing up on the Mississippi....
Posted on 01/28/2008
Copyright © 2026 Joe Cramer
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by A. Paige White on 01/28/08 at 07:06 PM Really enjoyed this. Can't think of a better decomposition than good ole Mississippi silt, lol. |
| Posted by David R Spellman on 01/30/08 at 11:46 AM A very nice bit of writing in tribute to the river and the life around it. I enjoyed this. |
| 
