Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.

You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...

PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Also, did you know you can become a PoetrySoup Lifetime Premium Member and block ads forever...while getting many more great features. Take a look! Thank you!
Get Your Premium Membership

Good Friday 2001 Riding North

by
 Yellow makes a play for green among
the rows of some poor farmer's field outside
the Memphis city limits' northern edge.
A D.
J.
plays The Day He Wore My Crown, not knowing it entices into tears this woman never once disposed to travel the holiday before.
My children squander unleavened bread brought forth from Taco Bell.
What sacrifice of mine could be worth mention? Enshroud it.
Christ's is death enough to mourn.
Casino Aztar, Blytheville slide from view, their souvenir and deli stations yielding to miles of scrub-packed, newly-cultured meadow -- the man beside me rushed at the expense of all around him.
Gripped by sentiment at being once again in this, the country his innocence absorbed, he sings the songs of artists prone to praise the great Midwest, prodigal farms and wheat.
My eyes are burning.
An eighteen-wheeler whip has somehow managed to drive his truck straight up a grass embankment which rises to an overpass ahead.
It lingers there, a sacrament of chrome, as I make peace at length with pink crape myrtles, white baby's breath in bloom, whose counterparts have two months past surrendered back at home.
How long were they bent down, exhausted, jealous for what could not be theirs, before they fell? And did the lilies of Gethsemane cry out with all their strength for God's relent, or were they sweetly mute as these I see?

Poem by
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - Good Friday 2001 Riding NorthEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...


Top Jennifer Reeser Poems

Analysis and Comments on Good Friday 2001 Riding North

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Good Friday 2001 Riding North here.