Missouri Poems - Poems about Missouri

Never Give Up - Poor Man’s Steak

Together, my parents faced two world wars, the great depression, floods, fires, and some things that would bring most people to their knees. Imagine just where I would be if they had just decided that things were too rough and chucked in the towel. At the time, I didn’t think they had a lot to

Dog Owners

first mow of the year
this grass smells kind of funky
what’s this on my shoe

Tradin’ Coon Hounds

Heard my dad mutter, a hundred greenbacks,
you trying to give me a heart attack.

For that much money, truth be told,
that dog of yours had better crap gold.

Then dad hemmed and hawed,
grumbled and guffawed,

Wiped his lips and said with a smile,
“Just let me chew on it for a while.”

Pretty soon dad stood and said, 
how about

How Wrong Could I Have Been

In my youthful days,
I thought those country ways,
were for hillbillies and hicks.

Watching fat cows graze,
in early morning haze,
was no way to get my kicks.

Clear blue skies ablaze,
under those golden rays,
just did not give me a fix.

Was those city ways,
where I gave all my praise,
I preferred concrete and bricks.

Down streets like a maze,
at skyscrapers I’d gaze,
traffic

Snow Day

Twelve inches of snow
all roads are impassable
sled ruts on the hills

Missin Missouri

While you're there, beneath the sun's warm glow,  
Where green trees whisper secrets, and soft breezes flow,  
By Bootleg Creek, where the waters gleam bright,  
Purple and red Crowley Ridge agates catch the light.  

With hands in the earth, you'll dig and pry,  
Getting very dirty, with mud to the

spying momo on the Missouri River

Momo blended in well with the trees
moved fast considering he was walking in brush
we followed this big-foot-like-creature down the Missouri River
It was 1971, we knew he was an anomaly.
Tried to tell people.
They thought we had been smoking pot.
I have never smoked pot
But I have seen Momo, so I know he is real
He appeared taller than

Another Year Remembered-1961

Nineteen hundred and sixty-one,
was a strobogrammatic year.
It will be six thousand and nine, 
‘til the next time that will appear.

It started off aggressively,
Ike told Cuba to go to Hell.
We ain’t talking to you no more,
not buying what you got to sell.

He then warned us Americans,
beware a military coupe.
Handed the reigns to JFK,
told John, now it

Any Small Town

Before I understood how life 
was a weave of intricacies
My town was a wonderful world 
to serve my childish fantasies. 

I was a young and healthy lad
a source of mother’s pride and joy 
with sun bleached hair and sky-blue eyes.
just your average wide-eyed boy 

On summer days I could run free 
over hills and through

A Missouri Heaven

When the full moon rises,
and the stars start to glow.
Down to that old creek bank,
is where I like to go.

A few leaves still hanging,
shaking in the breeze.
Holding on for dear life 
to them persimmon trees.

Out across the gully,
other side of the bridge.
Coon hounds hot on a trail,
just over the next ridge.

Surrounded by nature,
I am filled

I’m Not in Missouri Anymore

I stepped off the bus just before midnight. The thermometer read 38 degrees, but I had never felt colder. Loneliness has a way of draining the warmth from your heart. The 400-year-old stone buildings were gray and naked as they bleached through the fog covered courtyard. Like ancient tombs guarded by skeleton trees. A window

children know crown centers beauty

Anyone who is anybody or has traveled at all in the Midwest
Knows about Crown Center, its beauty is the ultimate test
They deck it out with beauty in the winter, honoring Christmas
It is a December sight that children from four states often like the best.

Going Back Home

Our love was like the afternoon sun, 
that melted those New York City streets.
But you treated me like dried-up grass,
that just crumbled underneath your feet.

I can’t be who you want me to be,
my blood’s country red not city blue.
Don’t know if I’ll find where I should be,
but I know it sure ain’t here with you.

Champagne

A Poet in Disguise

I am turning half of my garage into an office space so I will have more room to scatter my unorganized thoughts into even bigger piles. Of course, my neighbor had to mosey on over to see just what all the commotion was about. When I told him my plan was to give me more

A Midwestern Evening

                    Spring winds rattle walls
               trash cans roll along the street—
           

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