Lancaster Poems - Poems about Lancaster

Rise and shine my lilac I've something special planned Wait now, don't get up too fast Here, let me take your hand I've brought your morning coffee But that's not the big surprise I'll tell you while you're sipping it As sleep fades from your eyes I've gotten us a bicycle One that's built for two It's got a wicker basket And a comfy seat for...

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I look through the front window Of the Lancaster bomber on show Bill my co-pilot is by my side It has been such a ride We are waiting on the line To fly to Berlin in the night time Carpet bombing is the name of the game We are making history and fame The lights flick and turn on A group of students has...

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Killdeer Farm, at midnight, I bellied an open bay window. Its ledge mentioned the pounds I've earned, and for a second I lost self-esteem. A foul wind came up, did ungodly things to me; open my top, rubbed me a bit with cold feet, gave wings to linens on a line. The lights were gray, the darks were...

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along the toll path, worn by footfall, I walk as a water colourist tracing the canal's hidden track, hewn blocks are daubed, washed by mildew green silver weals etched like faded liver spots on its pock marked granite face. The shore's serrated edges leach into reed beds when a heron on stilts swivels in still-life freezes stranded where he brushes elbowing bullrushes...

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Down this once famous graveled road I drive by day and drive by night my mind replaying stories of times past. As if thinking about them can make them real again. Buildings standing with new faces, signs. I see them now only as they once were in my childlike memory, mind. Each corner sparks a lost thought. Transparent faces of townies crossing cross streets a...

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Living In Lancaster Many things have learned to master, Ending up doing it faster and faster; After what I did or tried, Went on a buggy ride, Like people do living near Lancaster. Jim Horn...

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Lancaster, New York Mid-west town of the East where neighbors are friends and friends are family! Written 10.04.2016...

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I am not from Lancaster ain't no tumbleweed rollin through my backyard or brain. when those beautiful snow capped mountains show up in the morning on my front lawn in a mudslide..is not me. rollin down the dark highway road a sudden thud-a crash into a wild boar crossing the road..how many times do I...

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