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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
Distant thunder rolls
As the prairie crickets sing
Kanza babes to sleep
@LadyRavenhill 2019
Haiku #103
Kay-Rosa Apr 13
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 8
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
Talis Ren Nov 2018
We are human
We break and we fall
Our bones snap
Our breaths rattle in our rib cages
But when the time comes
We dig our feet in the ground
And carry on
b Oct 2018
ive never been to
virginia, ive never been
to kansas.

just a mirror image
of a dream i had, that
looked so real it
****** me over
for the rest of my life.

i call myself a writer but
i dont write.
i call myself a student but
i stay in bed.
i call myself a good friend but
i am gone.
i call myself a person but
i cant breathe.
A May 2018
People talk about Tornado Alley,

The part of the U.S where I live.
They act like tornadoes touch down every week in May through October,
Like storms go through every other week.
Like everyone’s not scared and they’re always calm.

The truth is,
Tornado Alley’s not like that.

Tornado Alley is worrying
When a tornado touches down only five miles from your house,
Your family’s in the basement,
Wondering if everything’s all right,
And if your house will be damaged.

Tornado Alley is praying a storm will pass,
The ever-looming threat of a supercell,
Swirling clouds above your roof,
The sky a nasty green and purple.

Tornado Alley is taking everything you have for granted,
Then being scared when it’s threatened.

Tornado Alley is knowing tornadoes exist,
But being thankful that you’re not in San Francisco,
Or Hawaii, Florida, the coasts.

Tornado Alley is flat plains and wide open spaces,
Not being afraid of a storm,
But of what lurks when the beginning is over.
Joliver Feb 2018
I could write about the ocean
About the crashing waves calling me
The lulling roar
Of dissonant ambiance
Holding secrets under the tumultuous surface

I could write about the mountaintops
The serene scene miles above
Where the air is too pure for this imperfect soul
Where I have never felt more alive

I could write about the city
Where life never really stops
Where the skyline itself is a monument to human ingenuity
And the people are moving, always moving
As life goes on and on

I could write about any of these wonder-filled places
But my heart lives in the rolling plains
The seemingly infinite horizon
The hot summer days radiating off the pavement
The snow blanketing the smoothness of the landscape
Where the sunsets illuminate even my darkest hours
And the normality of suburban life is comforting

You always take for granted what you are born into
But my world has always been good land
Inhabited by good people
Warm hearts, genuine souls
And an appreciation for the lives around them
Where I've never seen a deer and an antelope play
Where I don't live on a farm
Where my childhood flourished
And my adulthood is burgeoning

Like my own personal Shire
Perhaps one day I'll leave for an adventure
But I'll always return
To where the horizon reminds me
Of infinite possibilities
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