Snow, snow, drifting down on little towns and farms,
Snow, snow glistens on the oaks’ and maples’ arms.
River, river from the north, with thaw of ice it flows,
Mighty Mississippi, past my little hometown goes.
Blooms, blooms, pretty blooms, and lilacs scent the air.
Blooms, blooms paint the land beneath a rainbow fair.
Hills, hills, soft and rolling, low and grassy mounds,
Hills, hills, some are ancient natives’ burial grounds.
Stars, stars, flitting stars that wink in twilight skies,
Stars, stars, tiny stars are summer’s fireflies!
Corn, corn, fields of corn, so wide and green and high.
Corn, corn, stalks of corn keep reaching to the sky.
Leaves, leaves dance on streets while children walk to school,
Leaves that tango, red and gold, as days and nights grow cool.
Home, home, harvest home, where crops are gathered in,
Home sweet home, as I recall, is hearth of kith and kin.
(Can you guess my home state? It's Iowa)
By Andrea Dietrich
For Skat's MY LAND IS MY HOME Poetry Contest
Alabama the beautiful
Place where I grew
Where small towns never change
and everyone seems to wave at you
Where everyones personal buisness
is pretty much always your own
Too your favorite local drunk
On the corner singing Old songs
Where the creeks are always cold
and your friends are never far
Your only means of entertainment?
of course is the local bar
Alabama the beautiful
The home in which I choose
Too live at peace and in beauty
An offer I just can't refuse
"This here is God's country"
Some people might would say
If you want to see the edge of heaven
Just come on down our way
Alabama the beautiful
My Home where I grew
where I grew to be a man
A country boy through and through
Walking home down brick alleys,
I'd click my broken heels
off to feel bare feet on
fall's cold streets.
Sneaking home to an
apartment I lived in alone.
I'd watch the patterned
colors of row homes pass.
Greys, blues, and tans
sadly rolling down the hillside
in long stacks.
Sitting domino's on curved
ramps, just one push
and they could all collapse