Short Heartland Poems

The bounty of sweet rain
Brings joyful tears
Through the cupped-hands
Of the heartland farmers
Lord, we sing out,
In your sweet name...

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With serenity
Of nature all around us
Peace comes forth smoothly

By: Misty Leccese
© June 28, 2009


Inspired by Raul's contest....

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The mountains lift my soul, but my abiding love is for the heartland.


Written 12/4/2014 for the One Liner Poetry contest of Silent One...

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Herald the black and gold
Helmet's ebony eye
Heroes of Iowa
Heartland fall warriors
Hefty touchdown trophies
Hometown game day glory
Hawkeyes football is back!

9/02/23...

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If you insist on competition in this world
I must tell you
Philadelphia sweeps the streets proudly
Philly is a historical heartland
Philly brings the love
Philly will always rise above!...

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( I sure do "heart" america's heartland!)

                Iowa heart  land
spring's Redbreast, summer corn rows
            fall harvest,     winter tableaus

For Brian Strand's Poetry of the Noun contest

And for Skat's MY LAND IS MY HOME Poetry Contest...

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Glee 
abounds 
when children’s
antics taunt and 
tease a Mona Lisa spitting image 
tutor with chalk mark birthday ornate scrolls
blackboard heartland 
cascade of 
impish  
warmth

Date created ; 16th February 2021

Photograph ; Number 2

Syllables verified by Poetry Soup Syllable Counter...

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I thought this land was right, but I was wrong.
This place also aids the twisted things to be strong.
So again arose from my heartland, 
                                        the disappointing song.
God or Evolution's man and woman
      will find less and less of a normal life to belong.

(11.07.2023)...

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Azure waves roll,
across golden fields,
Where he lies waiting,
for the Heartland-
Heavens,to blanket him
with bliss.

Floating down a river 
of quite bronze earth
Guided by hands,
of Iowan seraphim.

He dreams of sacred 
Alaska, 
heavenly
technicolor 
light shows,
and ancient tundra
not yet disturbed....

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The boxes are filled 
      with cards
and the people are 
       milling about
  Seems like another card 
show is taking place
    here in the heartland
of the Amish 
     tomorrow a church 
Monday, a Seder
   Collecting cards 
definitely 
   keeps one sane
and so do puzzles 
   Is love a game? 
That is another question altogether...

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Events beyond our ken and control
   trigger nausea in our soul
Incidents of abusive police attacks
   lead to destructive civilian blowback

Feelings well up from deep within 
   that media hucksters know how to spin
Those who'd like to offer solutions
   drowned out by violent voice pollution

Peaceful towns reduced to rubble
   America's heartland in grave trouble...

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Raindrops in the heartland of soul
sweet pain, draining slow,
light emerging from chains of darkness,
which seem to suddenly glow.

Sleeping, eyes wide open,
dreaming, chasing the reality,
philosophizing a life not lived,
escaping the boundaries of reality.

Searching for answers in the wilderness,
finding hope in the mist,
discovering the beauty of idleness,
that is what I except at least....

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funeral pyre

from the virgin flat plains
soared a modern funeral pyre 
that stood so high
it could be seen miles away
with the naked eye

whose dense black smoke 
released into the pure blue sky that day
the last drawn breath of many
waddling padded foot babies

like the silver blade from a heavy ancient sword
slaying the life of an innocent
white fleece lamb
too many died that day
in the heartland...

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one

     too

          many

               people fall victim

                    to the deadly covid-19

                         yet some aren't taking it seriously. why is that?

powers that be in 8 heartland states still ignore national stay-at-home order. why?



Date written: 04/04/2020...

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Sadness within me is my skald,
Ignorant world, taunting my afterworld,
Why is my soul in this soil pinfold... 

The sky is filled with dark enshroud,
Am dumbstruck, thunderstorms cloud... 

Love is an unloved harken,
The heart in me, a shrunken token... 

Fey reliquary in the sand,
Buffing the defoliated leaves off my land,
She lay her tears on my heartland... 

Miseries of the silenced one...
Tortured hell gone......

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Skeletal feet clickity clack,
a zombie child chewing bubble gum
giggles.

I have set a cackling witch at my door
but none are sacred tonight,
yet the cold hand of the dark
shivers all.

Candy is proffered,
horror masks nod, drool and moan,
bone handed gloves
grab recently caught Swedish Fish.

I shove the witches switch at them,
it's the only way
to save some treats
for the hungry ghost
that lives in my grimly grinning mouth....

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I yield to the earth
in supplication to nature
with worship in each breath


listening to a sermon
of kookaburras
as a kangaroo bounds out
a plate for tithe


I see goannas parade
the ancient rites
and koalas swoon
with the new age gospel
waving their faces,
and hanging from their mouths


and the platypus
monks of cold,
carry the testaments 
to the deepest hovels


living with just one heart
I can breathe a tide,
and find home...

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In the early light of dawn 
I want your hair 
To fall all over me 
Like a Rand McNally road map 

And I 
Want to travel 
All those highways and byways 
Exploring your mountains and valleys 
East, west, north and south 

Especially 
Those hot humid southern routes 
Covered in sweet morning dew 
That go deep into your heartland 

I want to discover 
All your hidden trails and secret caverns 
Knowing they will lead me 
Eventually 
To your heart...

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Your stirring within me seeks liberty,
instruments of your release, versatile:
the human voice, guitar strings, piano…
orchestra or jazz band.

Accompanied by long hours of practice
your company, is strangely addictive; 
No matter how I try to set you free,  
you're there in my heartland.

O, fuel of my soul's best expression,
you energize my mind and emotions.
Moving me to tears, moving me to praise,
how? I cannot understand.

edited, April 5, 2017...

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Bricks of lavender
a palindrome of gentleness
across the unburdened lea
Autumn softly blowing down
from cirrus magnets drawn
to cosmic ore
Saddled to the conscience of 
the heartland, a secret fells
what few aged oaks remain
No history holds words to make
reprieve for so sinister an act upon
the blooms and seeds
Haste arranges memory so as to
germinate, replacing the departed
'fore ever whispering lavender stems
relate the reins of fate upon the plains...

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The trees have pumpkin-pied themselves
they're dipped in butterscotch.
The nests of frosted pick-up sticks
hide squirrel's stores which plop.

Below the bowed apple trees branches
black ants and bumble bees delight,
bucks with horns return at dawn
to feast on sweet red meats bright.

The corn mazes full of children small
their parents so close at hand
The air ..it smells of cider 
the sweetest in the heartland. 

And all is as it should be now
so fully we've been endowed....

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