Best Loamy Poems

Snow crested range backdrop, gurgling creek allurement
At long last was the field, ours its loamy splendor
Our fertile paradise beneath stars and thunder
Within this promise, we...

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One eye of burnished brown
The other of glowing yellow
Coat the color of loamy ground
An imposing, fearsome fellow

Peers about and leaves no doubt
Those orbs so fiercely...

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1. MORNING HAS BROKEN 
The men, in lines, tramp two by two,
forgetting all the women who
indulged them through a night of tricks
(their lips designed with...

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Incumbent summer days 
bleed vapid ichor in recession, 
upon the arid soil 
in ceremonial concession,

to announce their ending reign
and precipitate succession 
of amber days of...

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SHACKLES IN THE ANGLES
By Immaculata Ortner

Woe at thou faint hearted blacks
Thou at neither black or white
Wishing our black could blend with white
Which spot like dirt...

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OCEANS ODD OVERTURES

Supposing boats could swim and fish could sail—pertaining purpose would still prevail
starfish fall from the sky, twinkling planets up high, under ocean beds...

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......Africa my Africa.......
A land flowing with milk and honey
based on the Ancestral Savanna
A land of beauty and radiance
A land of strong warriors and built men
A...

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His hands were wrinkled and scarred from a life of grueling toil,
From years spent working in a factory and tilling the loamy soil.
They were firm...

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THE OLD FARMSTEAD
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS




So many sunsets since I last tread this lane
Stirring deep seeded emotions so hard to contain
I know it’s the same place...

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A bent knee ...

Cloaked in black nylon, a briny drop from
The smooth cheek, contingent baptism
For a closed hand, it's precious cargo,

Now consecrated by circumstance and
Fate,...

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there at the foot of the hill
stands a lone durian tree -
tall, strong and stately;

from its branches hanging
fruits with oval, spiky rind
prickly and sharp as...

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A golden day, my mother said.
She had taken my father (who was dying - in the final stages of metastatic lung cancer, his face swollen...

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Tom Mboya, son of Ndiege
From the craggy islands of Rusinga
--the craddle of his progenitors
He sprouts like avens in the loamy knoll
And out to the urbs...

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Castello di Amore  Parte 1

A million yellow bricks for you, 
Cut, from the quarry of my soul 
I work both day and night,
A willing...

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when things are springing and
i'm diggin' into a lively summer
and the sun's downing the day
and the earth's warm with love

i play, i dig, i dream
i...

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