Best Kansas Poems
'There was a wealthy old man from Kansas
Wasn't concerned if he caught the virus
He was wealthy you could tell
Owned ten rolls of cottonelle
Said If I die "least I've got a clean A. S. S. ".
Written 13th March 2020
It was on a Kansas farm
I saw the beauty and the charm
as I sat gazing out across the hills
Not a car or man in sight
just a blue and cloudless sky
and the smell of barley wafting from the mills
A rabbit scurried fast
and a meadowlark flew past
and I could hear the quiet ripple of a stream
As the sun set miles away
I had hoped to keep this day
as I likened this adventure to a dream
As I lie upon the grass
with no rush to hurry back
to the city with its bustle in the street
I closed my eyes awhile
and in classic country style
I held a blade of wheat between my teeth
The ‘nothingness’ was there
yet it displayed a certain air
and the splendor of the tall grass was pristine
It was on a Kansas farm
that I found this scene of charm
and my heart rejoiced in all that was serene.
My lips uttered a sound not heard before, a bird trill.
I was amazed, for I had grown a beak, and knew I was an eagle.
This is new I thought, and my knee is heeled up.
I could walk, but I decided to fly instead.
Bull! I heard my muse scoff in my ear, so I locked her up.
I did not need a naysayer today. I was taking a solo flight.
I soared out the window past my lilac bushes.
Their aroma was exotic and erotic.
It was still a bit dark outside, for sunrise had not appeared.
Shall I head for a sea or the mountains?
I live in Chicago, land of wind and lakes.
Today it was pouring rain, but that was no surprise in April.
With a quick whip of my beak I looked to the east.
The sea would be faster that way, but the mountains are grand.
What about Kansas? It is not tornado weather yet, right?
My muse had unlocked herself and was here in the flood plain with me.
Glow- sky
Crows fly
Airy
Prairie
River
Giver
Aids flow
Blades grow
Gold plains
hold grains
Vista’s
kisses:
Vast strands
grasslands
a vigilant stalk
brown guardian of the lake
kansas cattail
60's CRUSING IN WESTERN KANSAS
Around the square, Camaros belching flame,
in hot pursuit of Mustangs on the prowl,
we'd change the rules but never change the game
and love was what brought on the midnight howl!
Two sisters in a Plymouth, Daddy's curse;
hair rolled up tight into a flowered bun,
with gold from Colorado for their thirst,
would look much better as the night drove on;
and at the magic moment, loosed the hair--
the swap was on--and to the back seat of
the rolling boudoir waiting for them there,
as echoed from the pipes, the sound of love!
Their skinny feet left marks of show and tell;
For weeks the boys would pray, she wouldn't swell.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
KANSAS WHEAT FARMERS
The sky so still, one summer's afternoon,
as golden seas of wheat filled up the eye,
this was our dream, and harvest time was soon
but then the dark came to a troubled sky.
The clouds rolled in, and thunder filled the air
as winds blowed in the scent of coming rain
whipping our sea of gold from here to there
and ruthlessly tore at each golden grain.
When all at once, the wind died to a still
and sinking hearts, as stones of hail fell on
to where the dream was helpless to the kill
and beaten down--the dream we had was gone.
Then kneeling in our faith--though now in pain,
we pray for strength to try it all again.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Folks 10000 heads of cattle have died in Kansas, and the farmers say they have never seen anything like this event even with the high heat. What is killing their cattle and it is obvious it is being orchestrated for the coming food shortage. Check out the Prepared Homestead on YouTube. Travis did a video on this travesty of cattle deaths. God bless you all... Also 97 food facillities have been destroyed since Biden took office...
Kansas City girls
laughing and dancing life
with golden long legs.
July In the Porch Swing In Kansas
The wind came up first
and it was so sudden
everybody said where did that wind come from?
It sure was a refreshing south wind
but nobody thought nuch
until it got almost so dark
that mama went in and started supper.
We just had lunch grandma said
and then it started hailing
we never saw a hailstone that big
and they bounced
on top of the porch
like God had it in for us all again.
But we just kept swinging
and singing them Roy rogers songs,
and all at once the rain came.
cool and fresh and running down the driveway
to the gravel road and then the pond.
Everything smelled so good.
Bobby grabbed our fishing poles
cause he always knew
where the catfish would be.
and before sunset,
we had enough
catfish for tomorrows dinner.
Grandma cleaned 'em.
Mama cooked 'em.
We all et 'em.
That's whut family's all about.
© ron wilson arbuthnot
aka veeBdosa the doylestown poet
KANSAS CITY I 70 West
Across the miles unhampered by the scene
the majesty of space, the vacant sky,
the interstate that long ago appeared
as yellow brick that led to places where
a girl could have her way, or so it seemed,
past meadow lark and pheasant set to fly,
forever disappeared into nowhere.
Eye seventy, I'd lose you to the day,
where eighty-five was norm in sixty flat,
in hopes of leaving Toto far behind
on plains once filled with vagrant buffalo
The scanned horizon, cold, the winter's day,
as empty as the past I'd leave behind,
then Colorado climbs from Kansas dunes
and I, the dreamer, feel the urge again
remembering I never will forget,
sweet Dorothy of my dream,
though miles have put her far behind,
tonight on channel nine,
I'll hear Toto again.
© RON WILSON ARBUTHNOT
aka vee Bdosa the DoylestowN PoeT
I have a serious crush on Dorthy
While she has a Kansas crush on them
The Lion and the Scarecrow
Not to mention the Tin Man
The only time you see her
These days is when
She's skipping about town with those three clowns
Her not so ordinary new friends
She says that they all met
Somewhere over the rainbow
While she met me over coffee
Wouldn't you know that's the way it goes
It's hard for me to compete
With anything like that
Though one is brainless, one is heartless
The other a scaredy cat
She says they show her adventure
Where the only thing that I
Can really show her is Kansas
And its vast empty sky line
The few times that Dorthy
And I have ever had a chance to go out
The magical land of Oz
Is all she wants to talk about
To me it seems like a dream
And we all know how those are
Not really very interesting
If you don't play a part
So I stand off at a distance
Gaze on from a far
While she along with those three
Skip off with my heart
Cause I have a serious crush on Dorthy
While she has a big Kansas crush on them
The Lion and the Scarecrow
Not to mention the Tin Man
Oh, and by the way Dorthy
Those ruby reds that you have on
Don't really go with
Your Kansas city overalls
I've traversed Kansas more times than I care to remember,
In the searin' heat of August and the chilly cold of December.
I suppose the Kansas Tourism folks would disagree with me,
But bless my soul - there just ain't all that much to see!
The roads stretch interminably - towns are few and far between.
To stay alert I slurp numerous cups of rancid, vile caffeine.
There ain't nothin' but nothin' along the monotonous route.
Will this agony ever end? The pointless question is moot!
Crestin' a rare hill and stretchin' ahead arrow straight,
Are endless miles and miles of shimmerin' interstate.
I even welcome my spouse's idle prattle to keep me alert,
As eighteen-wheelers and the road crews I try to avert!
There's lots of sunflowers but a definite paucity of trees.
Praise be for air conditionin' - outside 'tis ninety-nine degrees!
I do spot some cows, goats, sheep and Poland China hogs,
And a sign touts a place to see rattlesnakes and prairie dogs!
We whiz past places like Russell, WaKeeney and Kanorado.
At last we cross the line to my colorful state of Colorado!
I'm sure Kansas ain't all desolation - that I would not imply,
But next time we have occasion to head east, I think we'll fly!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
The Kansas Tumbleweed
Dedicated to my dear friend Garry Pfauth
The canvas of his mind carries;
Like the wild prairie winds.
Painting brushstrokes of memories;
Like ancient unknown friends.
Colors of his spirit;
Carries him back to home.
Art or visions created;
From dreams that he was shown.
Calling out to him;
From a palette of solace.
Tugging and pulling him back;
To his mother's face.
Innocence of childhood;
A journey man's craft.
He walks with a paintbrush;
Along his life's path.
The masterpiece of life;
An unfinished work of art.
To return to his peoples;
And begin a new start.
And as the sun sets;
The mesa of his mind.
Shifting him on feathered wings;
To leave the city behind.
By: Darlene Doll Smith
still will hang a man
horse thiev'es,liars,and callers
all the world knows this