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Oil pumps dot the fields for miles,
Like giant metal bison.
Rust for fur,
And shoulders of rotating turbines.
Almost 4 a.m.
on a misty Kansas morning.
I try to wash away
the sleepiness
from my insomnia crusted eyes.
Flip my racing thoughts
resting on a fresh sheet of paper—
spread so clean it sheens,
like fresh snow on a sunny day.
clean pen and magical colors.
drop and watch in wonderment,
as the colors sink in...
waltzing,
into the white stillness.
words never heard,
until this very moment..,
dancing in my frenzied brain.
the fresh trees reaching out...
a drop of sea, a chilly souvenir,
the stories of sunsets,
peeled back layer after layer...
and a moon laid on lake waters.
a tender breath of mystery...
a river filled with apparitions
here now—
then gone.
wet roads reflecting,
winding around echoing hills.
the stale winter breeze, now reborn...
floating across the valley as a new dawn.
steam rising from forgotten coffee.
my eyes wary, and then closed.
I feel the calm glow of lights,
the hum of the city,
the silent shadows.
the peace of the morning symphony.
Pen to paper, again,
mind firing untainted tales,
as the pigeons rise.
followed by the squirrel...
and the downstair’s neighbor—
a flick and puff of his first vice.
a new chapter, a clear desire.
the trees rise, the day rises.
night slowly walks,
forward.
onwards,
towards the
spring morning, reborn.
Heard powerful words move men to
action
“Hail ******”
Millions of innocent souls lost deaths
so hideous
ironically
there are no words to describe

“I have a Dream”
50,000 Americans march onto their
capital to claim the God given right
to be equal.
The same words
Moving through time
staying strong
to where 30 years later
a small white girl
3rd grade
in rural Kansas
echos those same words
in a report on how the world ought
to be

I have seen great words
lost and alone
Concealed beneath pages
Stacked on lined walls
Masters who have manipulated
even the most minute syllable
to affect how you feel, learn, believe.
Vaporized to the literary abyss of the
library Knowledge untapped
Mute wisemen.

Last words
spoken
Desperate to sum up a life in one
B—R—E—A—T—H
what to say......?
what to say......?
One last, “Tell my, fill in the blank, I
love them.”

Or cheaters who manufacture
manuscripts
to be read at their own funerals
pre-written, pre-thought-out ovations
of pathetic lives in an attempt to give
them worth. Sadly, still trying to fool
others by sounding spontaneous
extemporaneous
Even after their heart STOPS
Ethan Feb 2020
So baseball starts soon and pitchers and catchers reported today. This is the most excited i've been since the Kansas City Chiefs won the Superbowl. I know that's not long but baseball is just amazing and an awesome display. Baseball is that sport that you can't run the clock out and don't have total control. Anything can happen in baseball. It's amazing to see the comebacks that can happen. If your the Astros you'll just want to forestall. Baseball is always somebody's passion. Some people say is boring. Others say it is a smart person's game. How can it be boring and lame if all those fans are roaring. Baseball every season relights the same flame.
DC Hall Sep 2019
The sky is a reflection of
a child that's lost
It is screaming and crying
Painting our world with it's pain.

Why did it have to rain
so hard in Kansas
As we laid there in our tents.

Praying to God
For the second time this week.
Wondering if this is something
We will soon regret.
Lady Ravenhill May 2019
In our backyard garden,
We're feeling so blessed,
drinking and smoking cigarettes,
Trying to chase happiness,
Under Kansas summer stars
The setting sun is gone, fire is on,
You said, nothing gold can stay,
All things do not last.
@LadyRavenhill 2019
Lady Ravenhill May 2019
Distant thunder rolls
As the prairie crickets sing
Kanza babes to sleep
@LadyRavenhill 2019
Haiku #103
Kay-Rosa Apr 2019
checkerboard flooring, red rose walls
the large caterpillar's snoring, lets count humpty-dumpty's falls

excessively strong tea, smiles that drive the crowds crazy
a snakeskin hat just for me, something in the tea made the world a little wavy

find me that hare, i want a scone
the white roses are still there, i want a jabberwocky of my own

please give me a design, i'll sew it up for you
NO THAT ONE'S MINE, i'll make tea for two

i want to save the world, then again it really doesn't matter
'cause you won't understand a word, i'm mad as a hatter
A Apr 2019
Iced coffee brew
Cars in a monoxide stew

Wind on a pigeon's back
Paper pierced by a tack

Tapping feet, concrete floor
Spray paint on the decor

Cold air swept in lungs
Gum rolled across sugar tongues

Change in a rough hand
Canned tomatoes, name brand

Pillars scraped by the sky,
They stare down, eagle eye.
I'm writing this for a competition, so...comments and reviews would be fantastic. The poem is based on the rhythms of cities. The one described here is Kansas City.
Verdant Quo Nov 2018
The moon’s fingernail
pushed over the celestial dark fluid
that overflowed nightly.

The midnight blurred
my flattened, forgotten universe’s
center rather greedily.

The world ended
at the edge of my car’s windshield and
moved forward quietly.

From the highway
the faint heartbeat of Kansas
throbbed two-dimensionally.

Her heart cavity
collapsed under the infinite stretch of sky
and pulsed irregularly.

The fall of Atlas
forced all the beauties of the world to be
buried subsurface perfectly.

But my mind spitefully imagines mountains
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