I am from green John Deere tractors,
Dirty dairy parlors,
And B.B. guns.
I am from fields of dandelions that are also
Fields of hidden buzzig bees.
I am from the rooftop of a farm house
Used for sneaking out and in.
I am from scary monsters under my bed
An old abandoned radio that never turns off,
and a grandma that swears in Welsh.
I am from Pear pie only made at Thanksgiving time,
war stories around a smokey campfire,
And tall grass that hids electric fences.
I am from "the cows are out" at 4 in the morning,
and "get the switch"
and "come, boss."
I am from an old squeaky screen door
That tells everyone in the house when I am late.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
I love the rustic feel of the imagery in this poem. The imagery is really powerful in this poem. It paints a very clear picture of the area and also plays on a lot of different sense.
You have pretty much taken where you live and painted the perfect picture for your reader/listener. I particularly enjoyed the description of the rickity old rocking chair. However, I was moderately dissappointed in the lack of cows ;-)
I really love the use of dialogue in your poem. It helps me to hear where you are from. The imagery is fantastic. I look forward to reading more of your poetry and engaging in your ideas.
Post a Comment