Long Dust bowl Poems
Long Dust bowl Poems. Below are the most popular long Dust bowl by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dust bowl poems by poem length and keyword.
A hundred years have come and gone
to what wonder and tragedies
have you belonged?
My father:
Born in the aftermath of a world at war
danced to the flappings of the twenties roar,
a time when poverty and wealth wore torn in two
when the future feared depression's loom;
just a young man filled with wide-eyed dreams in bloom
where would steps move
in the prophetic ravings?
the Dust Bowl blackened clouds with farmers braving
drowning anthems of a Star-Spangled banner still waving
and the solo flight of history
forever remains a mystery;
political isms rise in freedoms slow demise
while Hollywood reviews the movies
in truth and lies;
the end of an era welcomed in the shanty towns
as Europe recovers with a parade of suicidal clowns;
off to war drafting historic days of infamy
when bloody battles raged
as alliances filled the stage
and at last, a momentary peace was cast;
with love and hope returned again,
life was never quite the same;
distrust, cold war gloom
threatened the next generations bloom
a hated war embraced love freely,
killed in a plaza at Dealy
perhaps too easily, we gave it all away
as nuclear power paved the new day;
the power mongers rose,
wealthy and the greedy exposed
life continued for the bold,
growing rebellious children in the fold
with yet a newer fear to mold,
wars and change in the aftermath
for everyone who has lost their path;
equality returned to the open stage,
the promise of an enlightened age
but time is never stationary
and no one man is a visionary
with walls torn down and freedom's cries
history burns with false truths and lies;
drugs and saturated imaged shadows quickly return
to clouded hazy minds burned
in foggy dreams to be unlearned
and fallen heroes disappear and die
close the century with disappointment
and no magic panacea provided ointment
now at the turn of time
in the final last hurrah
a battle rages yet no one with power speaks
of the lesson taught,
history must once again,
repeat.
Seen it all
my dear father
the foolishness, the truth, and lie,
in which mankind lives and dies
the messages by which the common man exists
is only the futures that we all resist.
A musing recollection on my father's 100 birthday. 8/19/19
You say there is no God. You believe in evolution. You say that all conditions were right for life on Earth. The temperature was right, the oxygen was right, the hydrogen was right. I say where did the temperature come from? Where did the oxygen and the hydrogen come from? You say they came to be when the universe was created by the big bang theory, or possibly the dust bowl theory. You say by chance the Earth landed the exact distance and angle from the Sun so that the conditions were right for life on our planet. Thus, evolution began towards the start of conscious man. I say where did the big bang come from? Where did the ingredients in the dust bowl come from?
What started the whole process in motion in the beginning? What created the first circumstance for the very first particle of matter anywhere? What scientific formula can tell you that from nothing, no atoms, no chemicals, no gasses, no reality whatsoever, that the first particle of matter self generated? None, It did not happen. Science and common sense tells us that it had to be created. And it was created by God.
You say the Earth and the Universe is very old and took millions of years to evolve. I say it is as old as man took six days to create. You say that science has it all figured out. With all their education and scientific experience nothing is unknown to man. I say that we cannot begin to understand the knowledge and power of God’s plans future and past. For what we think is starting to happen, God has already finished. God was here at the beginning of time, and is at the end of time, at the same time.
You say we are a race of advanced animals, with the power to communicate because of a conscience thought process. We will live, reproduce and die. I say we are divine beings, created in God’s likeness, with a soul, and a will of our own. We have been given a gift to choose right from wrong, believe or not to believe in God.
You say that after death, there is nothing but non existence and to the food chain we will return. I say because of God’s grace there is a Heaven and a hell. Because God became man, suffered, died and was resurrected, we will have a destiny to fulfill after death.
What do you say?
Difference in Opinion Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Sherya LN
09/27/2021
The Trail Of Tears.
.
The snow fell when the long knifes came
Savages who robbed the sacred homelands
And buffalo slaughtered bloody plains
Men woman and children the old and lame
Frog marched against their will
Never to see they’re homeland again
They’re hearts so full of pain
.
And the big chief in Washington
In his big tall ivory tower
Declared the native American
Should live how he pleased
Even though it took the native Americans
Dignity away and fall to the ground
Like chopped down falling trees
.
Thousands upon thousands
Wounded souls resigned to they’re defeat
Walked the long trail of tears
With their little belongings and sore feet
Many sick and old
Succumbed to hunger illness and the cold
Countless frozen bodies lay like ice blocks
Littering the snow
The big chief in Washington
Won the days and the demon sold his soul
.
From the prosperous green Caroline's
To Oklahoma and apathy
By a mad cruel man’s greed
And decree
.
Forced to become farmers
When just a dust bowl is all they found
And nothing would grow from the ground
A once proud mighty nation
Did an ancestral dance
Hopeful it would return them
To they’re scared homelands
As hunters and the buffalo
Would again return given half a chance
.
They’re dreams were fruitless
And lost forever in the river of dreams
The depths of they’re sorrow so deep
That haunted they’re waking hours
And the one’s they’d sleep
.
They sent the young ones to schools in New York
To be educated in the white man’s ways
While those left behind
In the reserve concentration camps
Wandered like ghosts in limbo
And rotted in their graves
.
The wheel of history rotates
But the same things always come around
The person with the biggest stick
Lays the law down
.
The black man kidnapped from his home
And shipped to be sold as slaves
When will all this end
And when will man love everyone
No matter who they be
But the truth is many don’t care
And all they are concerned about
Is themselves power and greed
.
Thousands upon millions of stories
Never to be told
Lost forever
Since days of old
Man cannot even
Direct his own footstep
So the good book says
There is no real justice and we are living in
The last days.
.
Peter Dome©2021.
Today I seek the sun,
it's gentle painless play-
words of winter warmth
spur me on my way,
away from death wish,
daily things gone wrong.
Today I seek the sky -
empyreal blue bowl
that stretches thoughts so high
above an endless flow
of clouds caught carrying
this season's rain and snow.
Today I seek the earth-
created solid, oh so sure!
each grain linked to birth,
to death, to my clay feet
ferrying everywhere
life's sublime design.
Today, I seek the sight
of eagles and their wings-
let insight be given free flight,
not as instinct, but free will,
And still find a resting place
in conscience, human limits.
Today, I seek wild ways
of nature, just out of grasp.
Human natured though I am,
God's finger binds mind- heart in clasps-
flesh and blood married
to spirit's inclination.
Today I seek creation -
space, earth, created ploys
designed to bring me back on course -
marvellous designer toys -
The Almighty's mind in miniature
creates in me a purpose.
Today I see my self
earthbound, then soaring -
albatross escaping safe
from earth's dust bowl arena,
from humanity's wild roaring
freed, to search for peaceful dreams.
Today, I seek tomorrow -
a hope beheld, faith's make-me-believe
as bone producing marrow
makes vital force live by my blood,
so heart-man, blindly pumping,
can try transcend the dust of death.
Today I sought my self,
living soul, dying past -
yesterdays given up
form mortal man's newfound mast
supporting eager search for truth.
And then I'll live - at last!
23/12/2019. Repost.
Notes: Soul: a human being - "SOS=Save Our Souls." "Old King Cole was a merry old soul..."
"Strong souls live like fire-hearted Sun's, to spend their strength in further striving
action." - George Eliot.
"Soul" ="Self" = The person considered as a unique indvisual.
"The inner chambers of the soul are like the photographer's darkroom.Like a
laboratory. One cannot stay there all the time or it becomes the solitary cell
of the neurotic. Anais Nin.
"Soul Search" = anxious self analysis regarding one's beliefs, motives, moral
qualities, etc.
I have tasted new lands as I’ve traveled this Earth,
would leave prejudice (often) with dust shoes pick up.
No, not loam like the Dust Bowl knew (God knows our shame),
the clear-cutting of forests, Paul Bunyan (with Blue
Ox named ‘Babe)’ (1) tried to trade! ‘Whites’ own much of the blame,
though for rape of the planet, dark thoughts they’re God’s race,
when Christ’s color was darker, church clothes splashed with red!
Each one’s skin is a tent that they wear! Is God’s mirth
that skin’s not our design, and it’s fragile? Our “cup”
may “run over,” but “Grace” is its content. We ‘name’
things around us. Is God a Creator Who ‘knew’
I’d write poems before Earth congealed, knew I’d ‘tame’ (2)
Souls around me who’d trust me to ‘serve them,’ not chase
skirt’s illusion, trust their ‘will’ would ‘serve me,’ God’s bread?
Each new day’s a full suitcase ‘God?’ gifts us at dawn
as our future flows toward us, frame dreamer’s repasts
for one sleeping’s not absent, their spirit gains ground. (3)
Our suitcases have boundaries, intellect’s GIF
that we nourish (don’t own or define)! Fates are found
as they pass us (not dreamed with known tool kits) that hint
there’s an infinite mind (one no mortal can grok).
Thought leans forward or backward (for logic’s a rock
that survival deems potent)? Soul mocks views that TINT
faith’s belief ‘we can know.’ That’s why faith’s so profound!
It reflects on God’s leading (a heavenly riff?)!
Faith in logic gets tested, its truth is not bound
to what fools think is true, Earth’s not center that lasts
though high priests kill their foes. Such truth fades with a yawn!
Brian Johnston
3rd of April in 2022
Poet’s Notes:
‘Philosophy’ that lives, gives breath
to thoughts that lead to better death.
(A paraphrase of Cicero)
(1) Paul Bunyan’s tales are American Folklore about a mythical
logger and his pet Ox (who helped him move felled trees.
(2) To “tame” someone is one process of making a friend as
described by “The Little Prince” in Antoine de Saint-Exupery’s
book of the same name.
(3) REM sleep (with its dreams) refreshes the brain and seems
to help us meet both old and new challenges.
My name is running water did you see me on the trail where I cried
Plymouths gold rush to California good byes Weymouth’s tongue forked for new they died
pilgrims to Indians to native pilgrims joss’akeed the prophet saw the ghost dancers die
prince Philips war another pawn in the game of bowl great sachems had to play the role
My name is running water did you see me on the trail where I cried
Americas forgotten conflict or is it not sovereign in land of free sovereignty
Gitchemanito saw you sing this land is your land why you took it from the free
was it a prelude assawompset under frozen pond to we the people’s Boston tea
My name is running water did you see me on the trail where I cried
was it a red king rebellion or praying town intercession new Mount hope
Swansea still swimming for freedom not all the black robes at peace
ambassador for my people imprisoned they destroyed a praying people
My name is running water did you see me on the trail where I cried
pushing east to west for they loved land the best when will they take no more
some tried to help it is true from the killing at dancing rabbit creek to widows peak
trucebreaker in the first degree Farwell letters from noble five to America
My name is running water did you see me on the trail where I cried
Georgia soldier saw a cruel work I will walk the lonely path to be free
from fertile florida to Oklahoma dust bowl you take the land you take the gold
as they build a fire we go I rather lose the world to loose my soul
My name is running water did you see me on the trail where I cried
1The Life Of A Fictitious Person (Name Here)contest by Matt Caliri
He came from the Dust Bowl in a terrible time
When his family were stricken with broken, dirt covered dreams.
The patchwork wooden shack they slept and ate in had all but tumbled
To a fate no one could repair or even had the desire to.
No crops, no means to grow anything to eat
In this sterile, fruitless, barren land they called home-
A time when the only thing farmers could harvest was your dreams.
There was very little left in his world except suffering.
He was a good boy like his name, and a small boy, not born that way,
But fashioned by his lack of sustenance.
His life was laden with monumental emptiness and boredom
Enduringly waiting for better things to come.
He would make his own toys to play with
Out of anything that was some sort of surplus in his world of poverty.
And when he had nothing more except himself,
His idleness was spent by creating a circle dance-
A spiral game, to turn his spirit into a liberation to his salvation.
Singing a song he would bring his feet together to shuffle side by side
While creating his whirling motion like an old "spinning top" he used to have.
Round and round he would turn until he could turn no more
To finally stop as if some invisible force straight up and grabbed him.
His world spun around him, magically becoming a carousel
Where he heard music, laughter and felt giddy happiness
As he rode on the great white horse of his choice
Traveling with this bright and joyous carnival fancy
Taking him to a place where hardship lost its meaning.
He would perform his dance time after time
No one ever really cared about it,
After all what was a young restless boy to do?
They never called him by his real name - Johnny Goodfellow
They always called him "Dizzy"
A name that would stick with him his entire long-lived life,
And follow him on a distant road of misadventure
Hard work, uninviting places, and downright unfriendly folks.......
But it didn't matter - he had learned early how to make his world alright
September 2, 2019
"Bring a Character to Life" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux
I thought I heard a strange sound
Coming from under the ground
I looked around but all I see
Were squirrels running up the tree
And a man across the street
Talking on the phone telling
His wife that he is coming home
I heard a sharp giggle but nothing
Was visible the sun has burnt
the color out of the sky
And the moon and the stars were standing by
What mystery lies in the street?
What miracle awaits us in the deep?
The trees are silent and the walls are broken
And the empire is shaken,
the fortified walls around the city is gone
And the angry lions have entered the lawn
They have ripped up the grass around it
And park a truck in between it
How much longer shall we wait here?
When the naked reality is staring at me
And the deity is walking beside me
I have chosen to take this path
One that will lead me out of the dark
I have travelled a thousand miles to get here
And I will not leave in fear
I will complete what I come to do
and open the Avenue so
that the people can go through
Everyone must leave the city
Before the sun goes down and
Cover your face and your crown
for the dust bowl is coming to town
There is no more song to sing
And everyone is moving
the earth will shake and the heavens will break
The city has lost its luster and dust and
Muds have defaced the building
And the happy people stops singing
They have left under cover in the dark
To join the mass on the other side of the city
footsteps walking on the street with strength
Determination and power, feet stepping
with heavy emotions bundle together
and moving towards the Egyptian border
a million strong holding the candle of peace in their hand
and each whispering a silent song
They are looking for a permanent place to call home
And peaceful city where they can roam,
everyone huddle together marched in the city
and held strong to their dignity
Footsteps of courage move with time,
footsteps of freedom walking in line
Footsteps of peace marched into the square
Footsteps of love are standing there.
Footsteps of Joy has conquered their fear
Bondage, yes we were in Bondage
Held down we were and saw no light
Serfs, only serfs to our masters in arms
And no way any could assemble and fight
Blessings, oh such blessings
Headed to America to pay off our debt
We were sailing that wild Atlantic
And our feet on that shore we’ll set
From Bondage to Spiritual Faith
But we worked like the devil for our pay
Then at last we were finally delivered
Seven years, then that blessed day
Seven years, oh but now we’re free
Like the birds that fly through the air
Yes, seven long years working hand and nail
Now two acres, a rifle and a wage that seems fair
But alas now the British we are fighting
Fighting for our freedom from the crown
Many will never finish what we started
As their blood runs all through the ground
Still we fight, we fight to the finish
No retreat, no surrender no sir at all
From Spiritual Faith to Great Courage
We fight though many in our ranks fall
Thanks to the French with their tall ships
The British are now on the run
A long way we came, a long way indeed
And a many lay dead or dying my son
A free nation where we all come together
And test out that new Bill of Rights
From Great Courage to Liberty
With America shinning freedom through the night
Wars, oh yes we had them all along the way
When Lincoln sent his armies down south
He wanted to be king among other things
And hated hearing “oh hush your mouth”
But finally we were the nation of the world
Our beacon shinning down off that hill
And calling to the masses “come on over
And get a taste of how America really feels”
Just as the turn of that great century
Where From Liberty to Abundance we became
The nineteen hundreds made many really rich
And many wept and cried as many were ashamed
The Roaring Twenties, The Dust Bowl and all
As World War One was left lingering behind
Maybe we should have stopped and smelled the roses
Instead of seeing all that success and going blind
Armageddon wold be an amazing boon
to accompany ourselves amidst others in rubble strewn cocoon
or perchance an arid extra dry spell blows humungous dune
donning any brave soul to weather
fierce-some dust bowl appearing like a ghoulish goon
vis a vis via global sand man disallowing any inhabitant 2b immune
whereat autumnal days will mimic those analogous to tropical June
day where nary a species of flora nor fauna,
which latter muffled cry viz Claire de lune
barely heard above the blindingly pitched
(scoring major lunar home run) when earth's moon
appeared to be batted, snatched, and whacked -
piñata like casting darkness at high noon
this out of other worldly debacle
(viz: a scene of apocalyptic, cosmic and epic rune
from twilight zone re: outer limits offsetting
sole millennial Gaia satellite believed rigged forever) -
which end of planetary status quo came soon
er than expected, accompanied by Gustav Holst eponymous tune
once Luna rung seismically, titanic ally uprooted, violently wrenched
prior to crash landing at ground zero rocked and rolled out of orbitz
before careering, and screaming thru the atmosphere
analogous to a near full term baby in utero yanked out of womb.
though the above dynamic gigantic jack-knifed
nihilistic quantum spectacular universal wreckage
sans the inner sphere of solar system
(known to mankind, when said creature, an outlier)
whence even amidst the early
bipedal hominids that throve a sage
no event (whether natural or caused by human error),
would compare neither cap cha, when are bit rage
emasculated, and wrought onto the terrestrial firmament
no way to measure nor gauge
the depth, length, and scope of total and
absolute value eradicating any trace of simian equipage
reducing the arrogant, conceited, ego-maniacal, dotage
boot far-fetched science fiction phenomena would
witness civilization captive in their own technological cage!
Form: