Best Dixon Poems
Gettysburg Hauntings
When General Meade met General Lee
At Gettysburg in 1863
Sons of the South battled Northern brothers
And neither side has ever recovered
Fifty-one thousand lives lost in three days
Of a summertime swelter, July haze
Souls rose not to heaven from bodies piled
On blood-soaked battlefields spanning 40 miles
An on-scene photographer moved fallen men
To snap better images with his lens
Hats off to Alex Gardner if you please
Today picture-takers’ cameras freeze
At a large bouldered site called Devil’s Den
Sharpshooter hid, killed unsuspecting men
Travelers at night on Pennsylvania roads
Claim they see soldiers, hear cannons explode
A century after the Revolution
United our states to wage war as one
Virginians were forced to choose blue or gray
Mason Dixon Line divided that way
If only Tom Jefferson’s wise notion
Had not been struck from the Declaration
Slavery, the impetus for war and hate
Would have been quashed before State versus State
Gettysburg might have been a peaceful farm
Where soldiers had never succumbed to harm
But restless spirits, faces pale and gaunt
Never retreat from their Gettysburg haunt
Our nation’s darkest hour plays out each night
And passersby still marvel at the sight
Where sons of the South battled Northern brothers
For neither side will ever recover
Categories:
dixon, history, mystery, visionarywar, war,
Form:
Couplet
During the Civil War, the Mason Dixon Line
Divided North from South, separating families
In 1961 guard towers were erected
On the Berlin Wall, separation strategies
Although the Berlin Wall was finally torn down
The Great Wall of China remains a monument
Created to protect the Chinese Empire
Keep out nomad invaders with a firm armament
Now a line spans the aisle of the US Congress
They’re seated to the right or left, never centered
And if a brave independent tries to speak out
Be assured this courageous soul will be censored
Lines are used to separate wholes into sections
What mankind needs is more unification now
Segregation is wrong, regardless of intent
To those who seek to eradicate “lines,” I bow
Categories:
dixon, history, social
Form:
Rhyme
She Goes Back
By Lillian J. Jeffrey
Whispers flow like a river
she will be sold
sold or rented like a cash crop
Born on a Maryland plantation
her mother works the big house
Harriet runs barefoot in the woods
side by side her brothers, nursemaids
her younger brother, childhood ends at five
She is rented, sleeps on a cold, cold floor
shares food scraps with dogs
wounds yarn slow they say
checks muskrat traps in marshes
barefoot in icy waters she looks
Her lungs fill, fill with fluid, her body burns
she is sent back coughing, coughing, holds on
fights off bronchitis and measles
her mother helps nurse her back
Rented to take care of a baby, clean house
the baby cries, she’s whipped, whipped, she runs
runs like the wind, tumbles into a pig pen
pig fights for potato peels
Her stomach empty, rumbles, she
returns to her mistress, the whippings set
her back on fire, she is sent back.
Rented, rented to load lumber
hears Nat Turner led a revolt
losses fighting for freedom
rebellions spark hope in her heart
whispers spread she will be sold
Her master dies, the new master
rents her to a local builder
the builder permits her to rent herself
she makes money, saves, saves, runs, runs
bends with the wind.
Empty of fear, full of dreams of freedom
doors open, slips of paper lead her way
through the Underground Railroad,
a network of shifting safe houses
Her heart skips a beat,
beads of sweat roll, roll down her cheeks
she crosses, crosses the Mason-Dixon Line.
Free at last, lonely, life stands still
like a still life of shells and bones
she is cut off, she longs, longs for her family
The sounds of rattling chains, cracking whips,
echo in her ears, she hears her mother’s
cry, hears her mother's cry, she goes back,
helps her family, friends escape, escape
on foot, through cemeteries, swamps,
around hills, she never losses a passenger.
A will as strong as a rock
a will to endure, persevere
a will to help others
nineteen times she goes back
Shoes worn, spirits strong
more than three hundred slaves escape
Harriet Tubman is nicknamed “Moses”
for her fearless bravery,
thump, thump, thump
bounty hunters on her trail.
Categories:
dixon, anger, devotion, hope, passion,
Form:
Alliteration
They Be The Descendants Of The Confederacy
By Roy Merritt
Way down here in the land of cotton
A great many people are mean and rotten
A great many of them are foul you see
They be descendants of the Confederacy
They love that flag the Stars and Bars
Fly it from their trucks fly it from their cars
Some wear hoods only their eyes you see
They be descendants of the Confederacy
They be fools who feed on hate
They be fools a bunch of stupid ingrates
They be people who vote for poverty
They be descendants of the Confederacy
They want to go backward fast not slow
They want to go back to days of Jim Crow
They want to hate blacks burning crosses to see
They be descendants of the Confederacy
They no longer like the Democrats
Cos’ now they the party of the working class
Republicans the ones who feed their treachery
They now the party of the Confederacy
They fell for their lies the Republican scam
Thinking these Republicans ever gave damn
Ever gave a damn for their future you see
They be descendants of the Confederacy
Way down here below the Mason Dixon
They love our food our Christian tradition
The notion they’re kind full of hospitality
They be descendants of the Confederacy
Way down here in the land of cotton
A great many people are mean and rotten
A great many of them are foul you see
They be the descendants of the Confederacy
The ugly descendants of the Confederacy
The truly ugly descendants of the Confederacy
Categories:
dixon, character, history, political, prejudice,
Form:
Lyric
It was the selfish men who tore the country apart,
For they had no love for Lincoln nor people at heart.
A line called Mason Dixon was keeping both sides apart,
And in 1861, the Civil War battles began to start.
In 1865, a peace mandate was finally brought in,
But Black's down in the South had not forgotten.
It was the end of slavery and elite slave trade plottin',
When former slaves told their masters, "Go pick your own damn cotton".
Categories:
dixon, slavery, war,
Form:
Rhyme
THE MATRIARCH
(In Memory of Eva Vescovi Dixon 1910-2010)
by Tina (Vescovi) Lasley
She was a Sister, Mother, Aunt and Friend
Someone on whom you could always depend
She was Counselor, Advisor, and Mentor to all
There to pick us up if we should fall
She was persistent, tenacious and so strong willed
Not one to be stopped or one to be stilled
She was ahead of her time in so many ways
Working on war planes in her early days
Owning a restaurant and a Florist too
When it was an uncommon thing for Women to do
Arranging flowers each and every day
Making sprays and bouquets to earn her way
Raising two Sons all on her own
Without self help books and how to be shown
Working long hours, six days a week
No time for vacations or much rest to seek
She made time for us all, to sit and chat
Telling stories from the past about this and that
She remembered all the names in the photo book
When we would ask as we took a look
Her homemade ravioli’s were the best around
Her sweet potato pie could always be found
Family recipes passed one to another
Learned from the great Italian Mother
She kept regular hair appointments, clear to the end
Her “Beauty Operator”, more Family than Friend
She was loved by her neighbors and all that she knew
Long standing friendships through the years that grew
Each year, her garden she’d tend
Sharing her bounty with Family and Friend
There wasn’t a plant she couldn’t revive
Even when you thought it would never survive
She tried to retire at age 75
But missed being around people and feeling alive
Back to work she went for 17 more years
Working part time at a Florist that happened to be near
She retired a 2nd time at age 92
Finding ways to keep busy with things to do
She befriended two robins that followed her around
Moving from window to window, until she could be found
Grandmother, Great Grandmother, to such a big brood
Her hugs and kisses sure to lift your mood
She will always be remembered at the door waving goodbye
Trying hard to smile with a tear in her eye
She saw so much in her 100 years
Even outlived all of her peers
But the good Lord said, “Eva, it’s time to go”
Heaven is waiting on you to show.
Categories:
dixon, dedication, devotion, family, friend,
Form:
Rhyme
They must have thought that I was brought here to do the numbers....
Ninty-nine's einsteinium square dance razzle dazzle then you shuffle a masque ?
Halloween arrived although ushering in an unknown, mutation towards
These centripetal forces ? Ancient's prophecy to bring into fold of trembling
Foretold standing at their threshold love's thresher; combatant the messenger
If all else shall fail ? Indubitable, unto His heavens as her Angels whom know..
Quietus with hands full of good tidings this heart and a golden marionette ?
Crossing inevitables Mason-Dixon line; cyber space Spirits humanity; poetics Waterloo.
Categories:
dixon, angel, baptism, birth,
Form:
Such a silly concept is this,
killing men they know exist.
everyone all the while,
put their faith in denial.
till all the people with the power,
insist their faiths will be devoured.
can truly someone say they know,
if everybody wants to show.
something unseen that's truly there,
my guess is as good as theirs.
readily I do believe,
everything I can percieve.
in that I know I put my trust,
given truths one knows they must.
never say fire's not hot,
simply prove to me it's not.
so now I sit on my high horse,
under God cannot be forced.
put your faith in what YOU know,
really I can't tell you though.
enter in to your belief,
make me not religions theif.
everything says that though we dream,
.
Robert Dixon
*Last line is the Acrostic
Thank you
Categories:
dixon, philosophy, religion, faith, me,
Form:
Acrostic
She Goes Back
By Lillian J. Jeffrey
Whispers flow like a river
she will be sold
sold or rented like a cash crop
Born on a Maryland plantation
her mother works the big house
Harriet runs barefoot in the woods
side by side her brothers, nursemaids
her younger brother, childhood ends at five
She is rented, sleeps on a cold, cold floor
shares food scraps with dogs
wounds yarn slow they say
checks muskrat traps in marshes
barefoot in icy waters she looks
Her lungs fill, fill with fluid, her body burns
she is sent back coughing, coughing, holds on
fights off bronchitis and measles
her mother helps nurse her back
Rented to take care of a baby, clean house
the baby cries, she’s whipped, whipped, she runs
runs like the wind, tumbles into a pig pen
pig fights for potato peels
Her stomach empty, rumbles, she
returns to her mistress, the whippings set
her back on fire, she is sent back.
Rented, rented to load lumber
hears Nat Turner led a revolt
losses fighting for freedom
rebellions spark hope in her heart
whispers spread she will be sold
Her master dies, the new master
rents her to a local builder
the builder permits her to rent herself
she makes money, saves, saves, runs, runs
bends with the wind.
Empty of fear, full of dreams of freedom
doors open, slips of paper lead her way
through the Underground Railroad,
a network of shifting safe houses
Her heart skips a beat,
beads of sweat roll, roll down her cheeks
she crosses, crosses the Mason-Dixon Line.
Free at last, lonely, life stands still
like a still life of shells and bones
she is cut off, she longs, longs for her family
The sounds of rattling chains, cracking whips,
echo in her ears, she hears her mother’s
cry, hears her mother's cry, she goes back,
helps her family, friends escape, escape
on foot, through cemeteries, swamps,
around hills, she never losses a passenger.
A will as strong as a rock
a will to endure, persevere
a will to help others
nineteen times she goes back
Shoes worn, spirits strong
more than three hundred slaves escape
Harriet Tubman is nicknamed “Moses”
for her fearless bravery,
thump, thump, thump
bounty hunters on her trail.
Categories:
dixon, courage, freedom, loss, spiritual,
Form:
Alliteration
Just North of South Carolina
Is where this country boy was born
All I really cared in those growing years
Was the running through woods kind of fun
Those days I fondly remember
There's no way you can bad mouth the South
With water up to our knees chasing crawfish in creeks
And anything else nature would allow
Even squirrel hunting as younguns
So my Granny could make us a pie
No secret better kept than eating straight off the land
Whether it was squirrels or apples to find
Granny always made delicious pies
Always in church every Sunday
Paying the Lord his due respects
For all that we have and all that he gives
Plus for the forgiveness of sins
Then after church when there weren't no chores
We'd kiss and tell our parents goodbye
They'd not see us again till we heard the bell ring
Come about supper time
There's something that's to be said about being a kid
Growing up down in the South
Where there's no better time below the Mason Dixon line
But that you'd have to find out for yourself
Categories:
dixon, childhood, life,
Form:
Rhyme
"A ghoul's parade"Time remains still for
The silent, eternal march
Of children disguised
"Fun for All"Black and orange smiles
A knight of ghastly terror
for playful sprites
"Darkest night of the year"A powerful howl
pierces the children's laughter
The cold hallows wind
"Haunting holiday"A pre-November
unforgiving melody
"Happy Halloween"
Robert Dixon
10/12/2011
*Entry for the halloween haiku contest, is this what you meant by more than one entry?
I added titles to differentiate them.
Categories:
dixon, holiday, halloween,
Form:
Haiku
Flibbety Shibbety
Gwendolyn Geritrude
Blackened the windows with
curtains so plain.
Neighborly aesthetic
peri-precautiously
people all decided
she was insane.
Robert Dixon
My attempt at Double Dactyl.
Let me know what you think.
Constructively.
Categories:
dixon, people,
Form:
Double Dactyl
Maybe I am pessimistic
you might say I'm not realistic
Finally my true love appeared
after waiting all these years...
it did happen
right before my eyes
yes, he was a prince in disguise
True loves
always arrive on time...
looking to be in their prime
evident in all the rhymes
Seems my Prince Dixon
took up with Lady Vixon
on his way to me
right or not he needs fixin'
you certainly must agree
June 20, 2018
Fairy Tale Contest by Alexis Y.
Categories:
dixon, fantasy, humorous, magic,
Form:
Acrostic
Have you tried the Kix
much, much, better than Trix
When it hits milk, smoother than Silk
You'll know where I get my fix
-Robert Dixon
Categories:
dixon, food,
Form:
Limerick
She Goes Back
By Lillian J. Jeffrey
Whispers flow like a river
she will be sold
sold or rented like a cash crop
Born on a Maryland plantation
her mother works the big house
Harriet runs barefoot in the woods
side by side her brothers, nursemaids
her younger brother, childhood ends at five
She is rented, sleeps on a cold, cold floor
shares food scraps with dogs
wounds yarn slow they say
checks muskrat traps in marshes
barefoot in icy waters she looks
Her lungs fill, fill with fluid, her body burns
she is sent back coughing, coughing, holds on
fights off bronchitis and measles
her mother helps nurse her back
Rented to take care of a baby, clean house
the baby cries, she’s whipped, whipped, she runs
runs like the wind, tumbles into a pig pen
pig fights for potato peels
Her stomach empty, rumbles, she
returns to her mistress, the whippings set
her back on fire, she is sent back.
Rented, rented to load lumber
hears Nat Turner led a revolt
losses fighting for freedom
rebellions spark hope in her heart
whispers spread she will be sold
Her master dies, the new master
rents her to a local builder
the builder permits her to rent herself
she makes money, saves, saves, runs, runs
bends with the wind.
Empty of fear, full of dreams of freedom
doors open, slips of paper lead her way
through the Underground Railroad,
a network of shifting safe houses
Her heart skips a beat,
beads of sweat roll, roll down her cheeks
she crosses, crosses the Mason-Dixon Line.
Free at last, lonely, life stands still
like a still life of shells and bones
she is cut off, she longs, longs for her family
The sounds of rattling chains, cracking whips,
echo in her ears, she hears her mother’s
cry, hears her mother's cry, she goes back,
helps her family, friends escape, escape
on foot, through cemeteries, swamps,
around hills, she never losses a passenger.
A will as strong as a rock
a will to endure, persevere
a will to help others
nineteen times she goes back
Shoes worn, spirits strong
more than three hundred slaves escape
Harriet Tubman is nicknamed “Moses”
for her fearless bravery,
thump, thump, thump
bounty hunters on her trail.
Categories:
dixon, courage, dedication, journey, pain,
Form:
Alliteration