Depression Farm Poems

stoic or mourning
in a time of depression
or keepers of secrets
with a hostile divide?

why daylit drawn curtains
made from fabric she's wearing
and 'mother-in-law's tongue'
on the porch to...

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Unity and serenity, the farm had breathed,
For ages, superb it has been.
On it, Mr and Ms Farmer had lived blissfully.

Harmony, children had witnessed
Before a hyena...

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Chickens

In the small box 
on the counter, 
there are ten tiny chickens. 
They are so little, 
you can hold them in your hand. 
They make...

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Its skeletal bones bare
Eyes still stare 
All that remains is the soul
A drift as a shadow lingers there
A bare bulb blares
sways absently silently 
in the...

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Walking on a narrow road 
leading no to where, 
wanting to roam 
with nothing in sight 
dark clouds drift 
across my path
slicing rays of sun...

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He,Stares in to the fire making deals
With ghosts in the flames
I stare, at the empty jars, i care about the red wine still in the...

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Looking back, one thing comes clean-glass clear
you were always there for me subduing every fear.

I tried to do my duty, be a husband strong and...

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When I was in grade school
I was, already, 
on my leftbrain dominant path
toward acting the intellectual snob.

This, in large part
my best offense,
my trump card, sadly,
against...

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I’m not supposed to see nothing else for me, 
than what has been handed down.
The family farm with the morning alarm,
near a derelict rundown town.
To...

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Turnip Greens

Yesterday times were hard.
In October '29.
The mills "cut out" depression came,
The economy declined.

Stocks fell down and rich men died.
Black Tuesday brought disaster.
They jumped from...

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The old ones have all gone now
up those Golden Stairs.
There's hay stacked for the horses in the barn.
They're grubbing up potatoes
and stacking corn stalks high
'cause...

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My great grandfather was a butcher
And my grandad to,
My mum delivered the butchers meat
In a little van of blue.

My husband is a farmer's son
And we...

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I make so many opportunities to optimistic to  
Know why the stream of heart is so lonely, firstly I realized it loneliness during my...

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Make hay while the sun shines.

I grew up as a closeted polypathic nature-mystic
on a marginal, at best, family farm
in Michigan.

This farm was my embryonic home,
an...

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When Fred was a boy, he heard his mother  
talk about Grandpa going to town during WWI 
to sell the bounty of his harvest....

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