Daydreams, Thoughts An' Passions
Heat turns the Prairie into waves like an ocean.
Churin’ grass in a rollin’ fluid motion.
As the wind blown waves crossest an ember sea,
An’ the Sage Brush bends without a knee.
Heat draws moisture an’ pools it on the horizon.
The Prairies’ floor cracks as heat vapors are arisin’.
Hypnotized by the rhythmic moan of a windmill,
Tumbleweeds roll; an’ roll by still.
Like stars, thoughts, fill the skies of my head,
An’ age more than broken bones, I dread.
As time covers the many moons of my passions,
An’ the sun sets on the wrecks an’ the crashin’s.
Nod my head, my thoughts’ stampede,
I jerk an’ spur with a grip of greed.
When I’m off my hand on the inside of plum,
It’s hard to figure what-for or how-come.
Snot blows past me, an’ sticks to my shirt,
Off from his hide, flies eyes full of dirt.
I yank my wrap an’ step off on the ground,
I’ve made the 90 club an’ the next round.
By Jim “Ish” Fellers
Copyright ©: July 2, 2004 ~ Friday
Copyright © Jw Fellers | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment