Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dustin Dean Jun 2018
Days of Heat Hazes trail behind me
On a path I've chosen to walk alone
To reside by the wild tumbleweeds
Too hostile for mankind's brittle, cold bones

Often, I think of the days gone by
Laced in a bittersweet requiem
That hums ever so softly in my mind
Hidden by a face that's machiavellian
Made by those I came here to forget

Through the incessant thunderstorm
That dominates this part of the land
I've found a way to become reborn
At the end of a long winded Texan tunnel
Made by those I came here to inspect
And transform into an invaluable asset
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.
Lucy Mohr Apr 2018
The fire in my belly
the boots on a dancefloor
the felt hat i wear.

Texas is my home
no one can take it away
lone star state of mind

Allan, Waylon, George.
my idols growing up.
Texas is home

frio river, gulf coast
fishing in summer
barbequing in spring.

my home sweet home
is the country music
in the truck

my home away from home
is in the shop
with my brother and a welder
i was listening to Allan Jackson and i thought about this
Elisa Holly Apr 2018
Blue flowers
blossom freely
bouncing silently
Between fresh blades

Bees fly busily
sensing
Feet
spring forward
beneath
blue skies

Soles
sink firmly
Feeling Blessed
by simple
Flowing breezes
Cné Mar 2018

The cycle of the seasons
once again presents a change.
Greens and blues are now the colors,
as the scene has rearranged.

Crepe Myrtles shed their blossoms
in blizzard, pinks and reds,
And bulbs with care once planted
now emerge from flower beds.

I walk upon a sea of blue
that waves with every breeze.
Bluebonnets on the Texas plains,
a view that's sure to please.

They ripple with the grass
in tempo with the wind.
How lovely to just sway and hear
the message that they send.

It seems as though the world awakens,
stretching with a yawn.
As luscious grass emerges
from the brown muck on my lawn.

Bluebonnets are the official state flower of Texas. The shape of the petals on the flower resembles the bonnet worn by pioneer women to shield them from the sun. Their blooms only last a couple of weeks.

As an extension of Lady Bird Johnson's efforts at highway beautification, she encouraged the planting of these native plants along Texas highways and are now a common sight in the springtime. This time of year, driving along the highways all over the great state of Texas, you will find, car loads of families pulled over to use the sea of blue as back drops for family photos.
Merry Mar 2018
Rock’n’roll radio died
Between gasoline riffs
I love Texan poker
She smiled with classic liquors
Realise that I want your lips
Gamble success where strangers bleed
Roadside taboo
Lay bare, please,
I want to give you one hot date
Kris Fireheart Mar 2018
Full moon on a
Friday night,
sipping whiskey and
watching sky,

Howl, howl,
at the light,
The wind is pure,
Conditions right.

Southern Comforts I
hold dear,
Seasons won't
affect us.

Peace and harmony,
right here,
In the heart of
Texas.

Light my smoke,
unleash my dog,
A friend is cooking
his dad's wild hog.

Sipping whiskey,  and
making fog,
Full moon on a
Friday night.

A little more ice,
A little less beer.
A little more light,
A little less fear.

These Southern Comforts
I have here,
These friends who sway,
Around me.

The whiskey flows,
The fire glows,
These guys start talking
about old "hoes,"

And everyone knows,
how that **** goes,
Full moon on a
Friday night...
This is tonight, plain and simple.  Tuning out my "frat boy" friends and just enjoying my buzz again...
if I
saw Norah
Jones this
time while
they'd freak
out and
lost their
marbles that
never cried
again Saturday
Night when
I thought
never to
get rest
with her
I care
to date
A Norah Jones Story
Next page