deepundergroundpoetry.com
a trip between here and nowhere
driving through mid
Ohio
the earth as flat as
a depressed
mood
passing by rows and
rows of maize
stalks standing tall
and straight,
proud historians
of rain,draught
and plenty
and up from the
dirt, roots, past
ears that
cannot
hear
rise the voices of
long dead farm
hands
whispering
their secrets to
a periwinkle
summer sky
and a corn silk
gold
sun
Published 8th Sep 2022
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The author encourages honest critique.
8th Sep 2022 9:21am
Dear BK,
I love the notion of hearing what those before us thought and said and did. What would they think of us? Lovely reflective poem. H🌷
I love the notion of hearing what those before us thought and said and did. What would they think of us? Lovely reflective poem. H🌷
8th Sep 2022 11:18am
23rd Sep 2022 5:17pm
Oh the stories and lives of the people who worked the land.
You captured this beautifully.
You captured this beautifully.
25th Sep 2022 9:40am
21st Oct 2022 5:39am
Those flat fields continue through Indiana, btw. And maize, as in corn? The corn which surrounds us on three sides functions as a privacy fence, still standing, soon to be harvested.
I love that you can still relate to those long-dead field hands.
If you ever publish a book, let me know. You are gifted.
I love that you can still relate to those long-dead field hands.
If you ever publish a book, let me know. You are gifted.
22nd Oct 2022 1:39am
Many thanks, Mr D. I lived in Indiana in my youth ( when the Pacers played in the old ABA with that wonderful red, white and blue ball at the old fair grounds arena) so I am familiar with the cornfields in that beautiful state.
hugs,
buddhakitty.
hugs,
buddhakitty.
