Short Dust Bowl Poems
Short Dust Bowl Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Dust Bowl by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Dust Bowl by length and keyword.
Oklahoma
electric blue skies,
sun and wild winds
tragic black dirt clouds
sand sifting through cracks
dry stalks
bones - only bones
California
He knelt upon dry dirt
A farmer raised his eyes.
Dear Lord, I can’t go on.
My land is a dust bowl.
My livestock pass away.
I beg—Please Let it Rain.
The earth now dry and cracked, like shattered glass upon the floor
Clouds hover over the mountains, refusing to cross the plain
Earth begs, then in resignation turns to dust and blows away
somber handsome Marlboro man on a painted stallion
a mirage has appeared in the dust bowl wearing chaps
his worn Stetson is pulled low,
he outshines the cover of a juicy romance novel
I do not know his name but he takes my breath away
he rides to the west
I promise dust devil
I will clean my soul
Yours truly
Worth waiting for lighthouse
Harvest
Moonbeams glow
Shining divided light
And when I get over
The dust bowl
I'm gonna vacuum
The spirit clouded erosion
I Cry as it rains in dust valleys
Truly yours
Harvest
12/9/19
Written word by James Edward Lee Sr 2019
The plains soil had turned dry
No rains made the crops die
Red dust was everywhere
That just made the land bare
The harm they did not see
Dry farm way was the key
How to farm they knew not
Winds blew away the lot.
Written 1st of July 2020.
For Verses In Essence - 8 Lines Poetry Contest.
Sponsored By Joseph May.
Dust Bowl
Dust sifted through the dry wooden slats of the now empty homes. No sunrise serenade nor rustle of flowing wheat greeted the parching sunrise. Footprints long erased, carried on the wind of arid dreams, mistakes that scarred both hearts and soil.
no sustenance here
greed’s empty bowl of dust
bent sunflowers mourn
John G. Lawless
7/12/2015
A blessed soul has won a role, The Prince of Peace,
Of noble birth, a novice born a blue-blood,
Pontificate average those brevities,
Stemmed full of thorns wrangled beneath his rosebud.
Won The Papal States, Mona Lisa smiled, lost,
His tenure was mired in doubts--parts that he crossed,
A scorned tag as unfortunate of the popes,
A Florentine, a Medici, useless hopes.
Solo-standing
brazen star
at
the break
of illustrious
dawn.
Lucrative nights
pass
over
in dust bowl haze.
Senses combusted
back to the
ooze
of
birth.
Lay to rest
the atrocities
of monotonous
livelihood.
The wait, the waiting
wait, wait, boredom
Waiting for life and death
Pressure, allegiance
disintegrated
through
manual
stimulation.
It’s been sixty six days; still no rain
The crops are all burning up again
Year after year without enough rain
Everyone who lives here feels the pain
Hundreds are giving up, I’ve been told
Back East they call us the Big Dust Bowl
Then without warning the clouds turn gray
A steady heavy rain came our way
The drought had ended it “no rain” strike
This water from the heavens was like
Angels descending, bring from above,
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love