As you may have seen on our Facebook page, we’re happy to share the wonderful news that you can pre-order new editions of The Wilderking Trilogy right now from The Rabbit Room store. We love these books and most heartily recommend them to you and your youngsters. My kids devoured them like a box of “chlokates” (as our two-year-old says). Pre-orders help a bunch in this process, so if you’re one of those people who like to enjoy and support top-notch fiction for families, here’s your chance. And what’s more, we’re fixin’ to have ourselves a Feechie Love Poetry Writin’ contest (see the end of the post). Enjoy this guest post from Wilderking author and intrepid, Feechiefen journo, Jonathan Rogers! –Sam
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It’s Valentine’s Day, and love is in the air.
I’ll tell you what else is in the air: the distinctive odor of feechies. Feechies, in case you don’t know, are a mysterious tribe of swamp-dwellers who fight too much, cry too easily, and laugh at jokes they’ve heard a hundred times. I hope you won’t think I’m bragging when I say I that I have a certain expertise with regard to feechies, having written four books about them. (The first three–known as The Wilderking Trilogy–will be back in print as of April 1).
Besides being gifted woodsmen and hunters, feechies can also be poetic and incurably romantic. If you’ve read The Secret of the Swamp King, you may remember a song by a love-struck feechie named Branko Flatbottom. I thought it would be most appropriate to bring it here to Story Warren on Valentine’s Day, in case any of you need some tips on how to tell that special someone how you really feel.
To my knowledge, there is only one man who has taken a tape recorder into the Feechiefen Swamp and come out alive. I am that man. (Again, I hope you won’t think I’m bragging; it’s humbling, in fact, to be so amazing). I had the honor of seeing Branko himself performing on the main singstump at Bug Neck. Here’s the audio from his very soulful performance:
Feechie Love Song
My sweet feechie girl is the swamp’s finest pearl —
A treasure, and man don’t I know it.
And I really do think that she loves me too,
Though she don’t always know how to show it.
Her brown eyes are dark like a loblolly’s bark.
Her skin is as smooth as a gator.
The one time I kissed her, she knocked me cold, mister.
But nothing could cause me to trade her.
She smells just as sweet as a mud turtle’s feet.
Her hair is as soft as a possum.
Once I walked by her side, but she knocked me cross-eyed.
It took me a week to un-cross ’em.
Her voice is as pleasin’ as swamp lily season
She talks kind of froggy and crickety.
Once I give her a rose, and she busted my nose.
My sweetie can be right persnickety.
I’ll give you this warning: you mess with my darling,
I’ll whop you a right, then a left.
And if that ain’t enough, or if you’re extra tough,
I might let her whup you herself.
—
Feechie love poetry is actually quite easy to write. You should try it. As you can see, a feechie love poem follows a very regular pattern of four-line stanzas: two lines praising the beloved’s appeal (in feechiefied terms). A third line about how the narrator tries to show his love. A fourth line which the beloved misunderstands and beats him up. As for meter and rhyme, it’s 12-8-12-8, internal rhyme on lines 1 and 3, end rhyme on lines 2 and 4.
I’d love to see your feechie love poetry. Why don’t you compose a stanza and put it into a comment below? When the new printing of the Wilderking is done in March, we’ll send copy of The Bark of the Bog Owl to the poet who submits the best feechie poetry.
I look forward to seeing what you owdacious scapers come up with.
Latest posts by Jonathan Rogers (see all)
- Serious Business - October 6, 2014
- Feechie Love Song! Rare Feechie Audio! Poetry Contest! - February 14, 2014
- I Went to School In My Underwear: A Riddle - May 1, 2013
Oh, let’s have a parade for my feechie mud-maid!
Her eyes are a deep, murky creek.
I sang her a ditty ’bout how she looked pretty,
And she knocked me into next week.
Yes, luaphacim–that’s what I’m talking about. A parade is exactly the kind of thing a love-besotted feechie could get behind. Wait a minute–are you a real feechie? I forgot to mention that real feechies are not eligible to win the poetry contest. Unfair advantage.
Lots of giggles here today 🙂 Thanks Jonathan!
I’m smitten after this fine feechie dame
With a smooth complexion the color of sludge
Last month I asked her, “Could I be your beau?”
And my face where she slapped me still glows.
Here goes ~
Well, my dank feechie beau likes to tell tales of woe
To all who will sit still and listen.
And I like when he sings and makes mention of things
that make me turn purple and glisten.
He’ll tell a tall tale that would make you turn pale
But I gen’reely pay no attention.
It drives him all wild; he can pout like a child
And the cryin’ he does, I won’t mention.
How he rassles and fights and he looks quite a sight
When he fin’ly walks through the door.
He stinks like a skunk, and he rarely gets drunk
He’s more sweet than a wild wooly boar.
By the way, I don’t need no book; I just needed to declare my love.
Mama? Is that you?
Jonathan, I heard a rumor that Dobro is going to make a surprise appearance on Duck Dynasty next season. Can you confirm or deny?
Love ain’t just for the young and like swamp gator dung
Don’t have to dry up and get flaky
My sweetie’s the reason, like snotweed in season
For her, my guts still get quakey
Her skin’s wrinkled and lined; just like frog hair, she’s fine
Her breath smells like garlic-fried leeks
From the scar on her nose to the wart on her chin
to the white hairs that sprout from her cheeks
She’s got spit-slicked-back hair, and has moles everywhere
But that’s not her best by a sight
My love may be purty, all haggard and dirty
But then you should see my gal fight.
Gross. I love it.
Slept not a wink waiting and watching
Soon, yes tonight I see my beautiful darlin’ sweet
Promenade is the excuse for play
Wine, slime and dine – feechie mud bath fun treat
She promised I was the slippyist she knew
I combed my hair specially messy
Friend, bully frog slipped slopped hopped in too!
Friennda her name, not bossie bessie
Fresh, sweet raw slinky worm o’rderves
Green, dark slime in my wine
Chewy chunky crunchy cakety mouth yearns
Deep and down, party never more fine
Slept not a wink waiting and watching
Soon, yes tonight I see my beautiful darlin sweet
Promenade is the excuse for play
Wine, slime and dine – feechie mud bath fun treat
She promised I was the slippyist she knew
I combed my hair specially messy
Friend, bully frog slipped slopped hopped in too!
Friennda her name, not bossie bessie
Fresh, sweet raw slinky worm o’rderves
Green, dark slime in my wine
Chewy chunky crunchy cakety mouth yearns
Deep and down, party never more fine
Is this sprung rhythm? It sounds Gerard Manley Hopkins-ish. Little-known fact: Gerard Manley Hopkins learned his schtick from a feechie cousin of his named Gerdo Rhythmspringer.
My girl ain’t got one loss in that old gator toss,
She’s muddy and mean as a snake.
Once I gave her my lunch but on crickets she munched,
Then shoved me right into the lake!
(by Sam – 12 yrs)