Best Prairie Poems
Daffodil majorettes lead the spring parade
Mom fox had lured out a reluctant kit
Verdant grasses are growing lovely shade
For dainty dulcet purple violet
Gentle nurturing rain from day or two
Coaxes her lace lilac to gently wake
Meadow rainbow chiffon a lovely hue.
Faerie-felt awe surrounds beautiful lake.
Carpet of tulips arrive on the scene.
Growth can be felt every hour or two.
Resurrection of weeds, not being mean.
Cyclical magic for me and for you.
The woodlands, the meadow, the lake and the dale.
Rebirth of spring yearly, without fail.
Written Feb 24, 2019
Contest: Springtime Rebirth
Sponsor: John Hamilton
We hear the prairie whispering
when meadow lark is on the wing
and pipit echoes a refrain.
Sweet solitude is his domain.
The sigh of breeze through blades of wheat;
a distant farm in summer’s heat -
Still life - but for the shifting vane.
Sweet solitude is its domain.
Midst blazing stars of purple hue,
I murmur while caressing you.
The soft wind, moaning, strokes the plain.
Sweet solitude is our domain.
We hear the prairie whispering. . .
Sweet solitude is my domain.
For Skat's Premiere Contest number 5 Poetry Contest
prairie grass swaying
gently to the wind's music
in step with its beat
Sifting through prairie dust, letting it fall towards more of the same.
The great visions I had for this place now seem trite and foolish.
I dismally walk away while the clouds above let go a tiny ocean.
my eyes are stretched by furrowed rows-
twilight lays it’s beauty at my feet
I hear soft harmony of growing wheat
of windmill songs in the breeze
and whispered whirlwinds
locked in the shadows
of the distant purple hills
swirling clouds gather
dry grasses thirsty for rain
stand tall to reach ashen skies
the prairie moonlight
is my gracious companion
I tip-toe in peace
_________________________________________________________
On The Prairie
Congregated on the prairie western clear with beasts
Cowboy chews tobacco, swirls black liquid, spits
Projectile clean, target hit, lizard quick
Long tongued creature stunned
No time to snatch a timid bug
So much hungry love undone
Reptile rolls over rounded rock pin ball like
Looks both ways before crossing into dark
Cowpoke silhouetted, floated on campfire
Smiles Clint Eastwood style
Slips a small stogie through cracked dry lips
Moves it from left to right
Lights it, inhales harsh life
Jagged teeth, yellow, tinted by time
Clinched while he thinks about old wars
A warrior down to the core
Grins at the beans bubbling up
Old iron skillet and the western sky
Gazes at the long lost stars through smoke
Shakes sand off hat and boots when done
Speaks not a single word
But with a sigh he rises and rides off
Now the twilight was gone
As we arrived at little Utah inn.
At the edge of the vast prairie.
We rested well savouring the bliss
Of a quiet night away from the city.
Yet early in the morning we woke
To the sound of hooves pounding
Of the dust covered bison which ran
Across the shrubby prairie,
Leaving a large cloud of dust.
Time for breakfast, delicious and tasty.
From our window we could admire
The evergreen red cedars and admired
The tall forest of American Arborvitae.
But my love was fascinated by
The cultivated Saucer Magnolia.
We decided to hire a guide and leave for a park.
We were sure to see birds flying.
Colorful and warbling to our delight.
The Reddish Egret caught our fancy
Though the Sapsucker could compete its song.
But now twilight was descending again
So back to a delicious evening fest.
How we’ll rue the time when
We had to turn back to noisy city unrest.
Breathe deep and you will smell the suffering and death
The smell of burning flesh it will take away your breath
It was just a normal day, but in a split second it changed
When the bomb dropped from the sky the whole world it rearranged
Now there is nothing but destruction everywhere you look
Not a tree, not a plant, not even a babbling brook
Everywhere you turn death and suffering all you see
You have to become deaf to the endless cries and pleas
There is no one here to help, nothing you can do
No hospitals, no doctors, just people passing through
Looking for somewhere to go to try to start from scratch
With visions of their former lives from which they've been detached
Some looking for their loved ones who are more than likely dead
Thinking maybe they will find one or two of them up ahead
But I hold no such notions I know the truth you see
All that is left of my family is probably just me
To become part of a group again is the best that I could hope
Without the comfort of other people I don't know if I can cope
With the loss of my life and many others, everyone in fact
All of us making the same wish: that we could just go back
Back in time to computers and phones with our families at our sides
Back to a time and place before almost everybody died
That is where I wish to be and I'm sure everyone else does too
But all I can do is trudge along, hoping that I can pull through
I wrote this for a contest about a nuclear wasteland. Got 2nd place! I hope you enjoy. :)
Prairie Women
I love the road-map faces of Prairie Women,
Piercing, knowing eyes looking far away,
Sinewy strength 'neath calico dresses,
Did they hope beyond - to us someday?
So tanned and competent to fill in the blanks
When someone became sick or some man would fall,
They could toss themselves on a horse's back,
Ride fearless to a neighbor's child's call.
Then after holding man or child with fever,
Cook brown biscuits and drive cows' hay carts.
Put on a black church dress, hair in a bun,
Sing faith with strong and noble hearts.
Love was action, nor pretty words,
Rough hands smoothed many a brow
They didn't live long, but lived so well,
I love the road-map faces of Prairie Women.
Fire races across the prairie grassland
Scorching and searing anything that it pleased
With fear and fury it caused destruction all along
Destroying in it's path all that does not belong.
Sparkling ash swirls and dances on ahead
Coating,blackening everything in it's path
The flame reaches out for what is near
Causing destruction, panic and fear.
The smoke quickly fills the air
Smothering all within it's grasp
Choking, black soot hanging heavily
Suffocating all that with stood it's wrath.
Once that was lush for the picking
Now becomes a bleak, lifeless charcoal waste
Where all living souls become displaced
In this land that is now waste.
Summer is over and the farmer now rests from his toil,
Having labored hard to wrest his crops from the fruitful soil.
Fall has arrived and all the crops have been gathered in.
The corn, wheat and soy beans lie dormant in the granary bin.
It was a good year - his farm was favored with abundant rain.
Thankfully, there was no wind or hail, an anxious farmers' bane!
Pecks of onions, pertaters and carrots are preserved in the cellar,
Along with bushels of resplendent apples - golden, red and yeller!
The hogs are ready for market but he'll keep a pair for meat,
And he'll butcher a steer or so to ensure there's enough to eat.
His wife jammed mason jars full of beets, termaters and peas,
And there are a few honeycombs filched from the gullible bees!
He and the boys used crosscut saws to hew cords of wood for heating,
To warm their Victorian home from the winter's snows and sleeting.
There are jugs of cider to sip and ears of popping corn to pop,
As the family enjoys a roaring fire to reminisce with lore to swap!
The humble farmer was so grateful that on his knees he knelt,
To offer his gratitude to the Lord, a simple prayer most heartfelt.
A benevolent harvest moon smiled on the pastoral scene below,
Seemingly to bless the peaceful panorama with its mellow glow!
A sliver of October moon
sinks slow into the western night
and the life of a billion stars
begin to fade beyond my sight
The black curtain of night dissolves
as colors flare the eastern sky
The glorious hues of morning
proudly herald a new sunrise
Heaven's light spreads o'er the valley
telling all the world to arise
Bright autumn leaves upon the trees
mimic the grandeur of the sky
Sunflowers turn their golden heads
to the promise of what's to come
A melody from wings on high
sing a joyous praise to the sun
I get a little misty eyed
as other cowboy start to come
Can't help but feel a little sad
that this night-herders job is done
TEXAS PRAIRIE PARADISE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
here, where the horizon bends.
the morning sun spills its warmth.
the Texas prairie stretches~
a vast unbroken beauty where
golden grasses sway.
the air, thick with the scent of sage,
wraps around me like a familiar embrace.
dust motes dance in the light,
tiny galaxies suspended
in the quiet splendor of morning.
cacti punctuate the landscape
these sentinels of resilience,
their spines reminding me
that life thrives in the harshest of places,
and wildflowers burst forth, fragile yet fierce.
here, the earth breathes differently.
my heart learns to listen
to the distant call of a hawk,
to the rustle of a rabbit, and
to the soft sighs of the prairie.
the hawk circles high above me,
its shadow gliding across the land,
a guardian of this sprawling solitude,
reminds me of the freedom,
of the vastness within and without.
I stand rooted in this stillness, finding clarity.
in the expanse, I find belonging.
beneath the wide-open sky,
I am both lost
and found.
Out here, wild rhubarb grows free,
Bitter beauty escapes designs by premiers
And presidents,
Red-veined leaves untouched by the
Denizens of this desert.
Morality endures despite the sins
Of man, mere miles away.
Asleep at last, my small pond releases
Crawlers, bent on surveying the usual haunts,
Where spirits descend to warn of
Bad tidings, if wandering too far from this oasis.
In the moonlight, a pothole party regales
The gathered, with song and dance from the faithful.
Wind spirits, twirling nearby, brush feathers, leaves and
Tentacles, with soothing echoes. Green Darners rocket about, flashing
Smoky emerald wings, while fireflies spark the dark night.
Out here, wild rhubarb grows free.
07//06/13
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Laugh at this grey town,
Dust lies thick; ragged trees
Streets lost—prairie seas
Unsoftened majesty
Wide streets end—wide earth begins
Sun sets; full moon-rise