Sacks Poems

These Sacks

she would shock
she would offend
but in the end 
make simple her thoughts
like whiskey for sure  
her anatomy and more
momma' say 
these sacks

this bosom she tell it
took boy-childs to men
took those hands and taught them
to answer the demands
of society and love

one day brother say
you blush me momma'
when you say
that thing you say
what's that you say

momma's

White Cotton Sacks

The old stone gristmill stood like a monolith,
its massive wooden wheel creaking and turning
dipping into the swift waters of a dammed-up creek.

Inside, everything was covered in a fine white dust 
amidst a cacophony of cogs, gears, and pulleys.
Most notably, there was a giant granite stone that turned, 
crushing grain into powder.

It was a dangerous place

Boxes, Sacks, and That Market

Boxes, Sacks, and that Market
----------------------------------

Many boxes and sacks,
putting on my cart-
I'm out today.
Labyrinths of the world,
many isles to go,
items to value, sell or maybe even to buy,
in those markets kept in front of me.

I have a great stock to sell,
you know;
This one is love, lots of it;
the other one is emotion,
oh, and that one?
yes, sincerity

Sugar Cakes and Flour Sacks

	Memories
	of
	Sugar Cakes & Flour Sacks
	Written: by Tom Wright
	9/1/99
	
	Sitting in prayer at Mothers door
	As she lay in deepest sleep.
	Her face, embedded with hand prints of time,
	Told of a life, upon reflection,
	That made me weep.
	
	Near her bedside death had crept
	Which would not be denied.
	Life hadn't prepared me for this hour,
	And all to soon she'd pass,
	Once again I

Tracks of Yellow Sacks

Tracks of yellow sacks

Harvested yellow sunshine to send on cart to others in sacks
A year started young with mud grey damp and ground full of cracks
Burrow for black soil rich within goodness a natural food to sow strong backs
Five months of weather stood the green waving along the brown dirty tracks
Soon yellow sunshine will give

Whatever Happened To Flour Sacks

My Father grew up on a farm many years ago,
they never had very much this I do know.
During the depression times were really tough,
clothes made from flour sacks worked well enough.
My Aunt had a dress, my father a shirt,
Father was just a little guy just a little squirt.
But he remembers those days and how they

Flour Sacks

Flour sacks I remember you so well
full of golden grain, bran or flour
a slight but delightful musty smell
perambulating the atmosphere 

Sacks cut up for all sorts of things
cloth shoes and dresses even trousers
rough coats that did not keep one warm
scarecrows dressed in sacks 

Vegetables stored in sacks that are stacked
in rows inside the dutch barn

Flour Sacks

Mother was a genius when it came to recyclin' flowery flour sacks,
Durin' The Great Depression to provide duds for her family's backs!
With her trusty pedal Singer Sewin' Machine she turned out a horde,
Of decent apparel that we could ill afford from Montgomery-Ward!

In gym class I could usually find a locker behind which to cower,
So as

My Mom's Flour Sacks

The flour sack, the flour sack!
To my childhood it harkens back...

With the flour at last gone
Mom would use it to sew upon..

Dish towels, aprons , and who knows what
No complaints, our mouths remained firmly shut!

I wouldn't, shouldn't say that we were poor
But  flour sack clothing we sometimes wore...

Once she needed a diaper in the

Flour Sacks

Oh, yes! I recall them well,
those pretty prints as flour sacks.
They only needed hemming
added to Mom's dishtowel stacks.

I don't remember dresses 
made from them for Sis or me.
Sewed together for table cloths,
they were pretty as could be.

They brightened the old kitchen 
when hung as window curtain.
My dear mother wasted none
of that I can be certain.

They

Flour Sacks

Life was hard in the money department
My parents had what was called a paid job
Just over basics it was evident
Someone else ate the corn, they got the cob

Life was grand, week to week we ate biscuits
There was sidemeat on our plate with syrup
The salt made the sweet dance by castanet
That simple food had what is

Milk Sacks

Milk sacks here,
Milk sacks there,
Milk sacks now
Are everywhere.
Milk sacks right,
Milk sacks left,
Be they big,
Or be they small,
Heaven knows
I’ve seen them all
When on the streets
They point at me
And seem to hate
Their cotton shields.
Free lactose for all alive!
Oh my! How very kind.
Here is some bread,
Who’s got a cup?
I’ll have a squeeze
To go with those.
Someone please
Clear the crowded

The Gold Man Sacks Rome Again

the stearn bear
ate the bull
as meat unto idols
    (the idle mammals
              of mammon
         on fence road)
the bags of king Midas filled
 as offense rose
the comstock lode
     

Little Cartons, Little Sacks

Little Cartons, Little Sacks

 
The mug of tea I drank at six,
the tea that drives me to the train,
needs a refill. At my desk,
I don’t do much. I wait
for lunch when every day
I eat so much the waitress gawks.
She doesn’t realize the years
till supper. Then I’ll dine alone again,
bolt everything that I bring home
in little

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