Long Midwest Poems
Long Midwest Poems. Below are the most popular long Midwest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Midwest poems by poem length and keyword.
Here in my suburban acre of Ohio;
I feel the generations,
the hungarians, the irish and germans,
the dutch, the blacks, the shawnee.
We are not a melting pot,
we are birds and critters brought here
by wild, wild winds.
I am a grackle
with my own grackle language,
I expect you who live in the same tree with me
have your own way
of making a home in this land.
Heartland is the root we share,
The root is lazy days in PJ’s.
Hectic mini-van school runs,
sweats for Walmart and yelling at stuff.
One dress tie for special occasions.
Most of us are not poor or rich,
Most of us about nothing much.
We don’t love our guns,
we simply keep them
in case those who don’t understand
want to mess with what we’ve earned.
My neighbor is a mourning dove,
Her son is a possum that loves to play
video games from dawn to dusk.
My pal is a rooster, a gnarly-handed poet,
don’t ask him to write anything
he might think those fighting words.
I like being a grackle, but I married an anhinga
from Florida.
She is adjusting.
Sickening sweet smell of marijuana
A young guy with a super grin playing bongos
I had never seen that in real life, just on Dobie Gillis.
Come on up! My free-minded cousin said.
There were beds, but they were occupied.
I did not know people sleep during the day.
Being from the Midwest, this was all new
Are these your roommates? I asked her.
Just people, she told me.
I changed into my swimming suit,
Because I was in San Francisco,
And I thought there would be a beach
Someone started a sing-along in the living room.
I was intrigued; this was freedom I had never seen.
We’ll swim tomorrow, my cousin promised.
We never got to the beach
But I saw S Street
And I met real hippies
I found out my zodiac sign
And I learned I have gold in my eyes.
Someone called me an old soul.
It was 1968 I was sixteen.
And it was enough.
Dapper Dorothy pushes the envelope to the edge of the canyon
she should know better
being from a small town in the Midwest
Some of the meaner hicks say
She is trans someone whispers
What is that?
Pan? Tran? Slam? Sham?
Some of the relatives laugh
Not understanding how it feels
to be a little boy born in a girl’s body
To be sad every time he has to go to the girl’s side
Wearing panties when all he wants is boxers
There are no other trans in our town.of three hundred and two
Maybe and probably there have never been.
I look at Dapper Dorothy’s clothes and marvel
Glad he is finally honoring himself with beautiful men’s clothes
Let's go ice skating, like when we were kids!
We skated indoors at the Chicago Arena.
My leather brown case with peacock satin
interior,
And gold locks that shined like the morning sun.
Those figure skates, polished were my pride and joy.
The Arena was huge and had its own organ.
So proud we were to skate to real music.
I was so unsure of myself, my parents hired a trainer.
Clarence was an experienced and gentleman and
par excel lance.
I learned to not be fearful.
We skated for hours....my cousins, friends and I.
Those were such special, dear hours of learning and
friendship!
Falls and spills,we thought, golly we are skilled!
At real ice shows we were admired costumes and how they
went so fast...
.....Alas, the decades have, too!.....
The Zamboni of life cleared all of this away.
A wondrous memory of many loved winters past.
How much this heart wants to bring back the joyous ice skating,
the days of fun, companionship and young, free, laughter!
~Thanks Mom and Dad~
11-15-2020
NOTE ..I FOUND NOTHING FOR ICE SKATING WHICH THIS IS ABOUT.
A Summer's Night Sensuality
Don't dare whisper a warm breath on my shoulder,
Or I might become ever so more intimately bolder.
Here, on this intoxicating Midwest summer night.
I wish I were, I wish I might, be your amorous slave tonight!
Like a rainbow candle, joyfully melting, multi-colored into you.
Becoming not one enamored person, but a divine loving two.
An intense, steaming, simmering wax puddle of lovers,
Under summer's moonlit, silvery, slippery, cloud-satin covers.
Oh, how divinely close, my angel, we are!
Sparkling in the velvet darkness, like brilliant firefly stars.
I literally swim in the lake-like sweat of simmering you~
These sacred eternal, loving, sensual desires, of we, an eternal two.
June 22, 2020
5:30am PST
Edited
This poem entered in Chantelle Cooke's Contest:
Summer Love
Hot shot young buck
Sat kissing his beautiful young prom date
Stardate 1958
After climbing a rusty ladded
All the way to the summit at the top
Of the old Standard Oil sponsored Water Tower
That is colloquy known as Lookout Point
Gazing over the late night setting horison
They both made a wish upon a shooting star
In there Midwest Desert Mining Town
That from this moment they shall never be apart
And for many a year this truth would come to pass
But even a wish can only last a certain amount of time
As death comes to us all
Young Buck was destined to become Old Buck
And his beautiful Prom date's
Good looks so in time would wither too
But the wish they once upon a time made
And the years of love they shared
Can still be heard surfing on the Summer Breeze
When perched way up high upon the Water Tower
Drawing new couples into scaling the summit
In search of the Spell True Love Cast
2,000 Miles Away
Sooner than expected, my dear mother died at the age of 70 in 1998; and I, the distant one, was 2000 miles away.
My oldest sister died after an auto accident at the age of 55 in 1999; and I? 2000 miles away.
In 2003, an older brother died before I could arrive;
he was 56, and I was 2000 miles away. A younger sister died suddenly, also in 2003; she was only 46: and I? Again, 2000 miles away.
Another younger sister died in the Fall of 2012; she was 56, and I was 2000 miles away.
My oldest brother was 79 when he died in 2013:
And I was 2000 miles away.
Never distant in my mind, but far away for a long time
All of my family lives in the Midwest and South; and I reside way out West, 2000 miles away.
Many years before, I had chosen to move and ‘go west young man’, 2000 miles away.
I learned sadly, that when illness or tragedy strikes
a loved one, it’s not good to be 2000 miles away.
For 38 years, I have been the distant one in my family. I have endured the pain of separation and often wanted to make a change from being 2000 miles away.
In the last days and hours of their lives, I was never there to walk with them, to talk, to kiss, to hold, or to touch; nor even to say, “Goodbye”.
No. I could only board a plane, and cry, simply because I was far away, over 2000 miles.
02082012 PS Contest, Far Away, Nayda Negron, P5
We paddle through small talk,
I like her, she has style.
I imagine we have a history together
back in an old movie that I have yet to see.
I begin to construct a lost and anecdotal life.
In another place we’re a vaudeville act
wisecracking between meal tickets.
Our home, a trunk covered in Midwest decals.
We share the occasional Spam sandwich,
theater gossip and sleaze; we cuddle
as we trundle along
long defunct rail tracks.
We date in elevators,
make out in a battered Oldsmobile.
In Bangkok, we share a ride in a Tuk-Tuk
careening down narrow streets.
On any sidewalk, we meet regularly
as reflections in windowpanes.
Today you’ve gone to Guatemala
to fight for a right.
Marimba music plays
as you climb up my spine.
Time now to rent more space
outside these traveling dreams.
AFTER NUMEROUS CALLS DESPERATE PLEASE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATIONS MY IDENTITY THIEVES SETTLED INTO MY LIFE LIKE GIANT COCKROACHES CHEWING FEASTING ON MEDICAL DOCUMENTS PAYMENTS INFORMATIONS SOCIAL SECURITY INFORMATIONS FROM TAMPA GENERAL HOSPITAL SYSTEMS MEGELLAN HEALTHCARE HCA INCLUDING TRI CARE FBI HAS BEEN CONTACTED EACH TIME MY STALKERS GAINED ACCESS TO OUR PERSONAL INFORMATION LETTERS POURED IN HERE'S WHAT WE DO WE ARE WRITING YOU TO ALERT YOU THAT YOUR PERSONAL INFORMATION HAS BEEN EXPOSED YOU'RE INVOLVED IN A CLASS ACTION SETTLEMENT YOU CAN LOCK YOUR CREDIT WE OFFER CREDIT MONITORING THEN THE SPAM CALLS HACKERS USING YOUR INFORMATION TO CIRCULATED ROBO CALLS SPOOF PHONE NUMBERS UNDER YOUR NAME DEBUTING ALL YOUR HACKERS IDENTITY THIEVES WHO HAVE LITERALLY BUILT A CAREER ON STEALING YOUR IDENTITY AFTER SEVERAL DATA BREACHES MY HUSBAND AND I ARE BLESSED ESPECIALLY SINCE MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND RALLY A FLEET OF JAMAICAN STRIPPERS HIDING OUT IN AMERICAN YES UNDER MY IDENTITY SINCE THAT DIRE PLEA TO THE FBI 2003 HELP HELP SOMEONES BREAKING IN MY HOME SEARCHING FOR PASSPORTS OBITUARIES DEATH BIRTH MARRIAGE I FEARED FOR MY SAFETY SUFFERING TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY THE THIEVES WERE ACTUALLY EMBEZZLING FUNDS FROM MY TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY CLAIM FLEEING TO JAMAICAN CANADA AND MIDWEST WHEN THEY FINALLY REALIZED I REMARRIED THEY LATCHED ON TO MY HUSBAND TERRORISING US WITH HOME INVASIONS DEADLY GAME OF DOMESTIC IDENTITY TERRORISTS ITS HORRID BEING A DISABLED PERSON HAVING A CRIMINAL GROUP HACK INTO YOUR HEALTHCARE YOUR PERSONAL INFORMATION YOUR LIVELY HOOD HAVING TWO STROKES I WAS HELPLESS AT THE MERCY OF MY WONDERFUL HUSBAND JESUS CHRIST MY IDENTITY THIEVES ARE SEATED WITH MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBANDS ITS VERY TRAUMATIC THIS CRIMINAL GROUP FORMED SEVERE HATRED FOR ME AFTER BEING EXPPSED TO MY IDENTITY AS A CONFIDENTIAL HUMAN SOURCE I WAS INTIMIDATED BULLIED BY HOME INVASIONS DEATH THREATS ATTEMPTS ON MY LIFE SLANDERED TODAY I FEEL BLESSED MY HUSBAND AND I ARE ALL ARMY STRONG HAND IN HAND TRULY BLESSED WE SURVIVED THIS IDENTITY THEFT TERRORISTS CRIMINAL GROUP SEVERE DATA BREACH UPON OUR FAMILY DURING CHRONIC ILLNESS COMPLETE HARDSHIP GOD BLESS THE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION FOR REACHING OUT TO COMBAT THIS HORRID DATA BREACH UPON US GOD BLESS THE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION AND GOD BLESS AMERICA
A frigid December night in a somewhere Midwest town,
He'd been out late on some errands, buying stuff he needed;
Came home dog-tired, ready to shower and stretch,
Put his key in the door, and received
The shock of his life.
The key didn't work; it didn't move this way or that:
His mind reeling, again and again the key didn't turn as he quivered;
Heart pounding, thoughts racing, anger welling up in him;
Looked up for a moment, stopped in his tracks, his will failing,
So grim.
Four squad cars were ready, though quiet for now,
Officers poised to pounce should he crack;
Stepped cautiously back from that ex-entrance of iron,
Spirit sinking, thoughts askew:
Surely it's all a huge misunderstanding.
All of three months he'd lived in the town,
Hardly knew a soul at work, never mind on the block;
--Turned out in the dead of brutal midwestern winter's night
With two dimes in his pocket and a broken housekey.
He made the first call, "I'm sorry to disturb you..."
"No trouble at all, can I help, you sound lost..."
A voice from heaven over an AT&T line,
Rescued him from damnation and embarrassment's cackle.
A saint with a white beard smiled at him in the doorway,
welcomed him warmly, whisked him in from the cold;
showed him into a closet-sized room,
A king's palace to a man
With a dime in his pocket
And a broken house-key
That fits no family.
March 04, 2018