"greenville" poems - Hello Poetry

How is a boy like me from the “not-so-small-anymore” town of Greenville, South Carolina supposed to become a successful poet? Well, I’ve got to do the same thing anyone else would do if they want to become something: First, stop asking questions. Second, start finding the answers. Because it’s all about making it in the World. But remember, if you can make it “here”, you can make it anywhere kid. And if you can’t make it “here”, Then join the **** club.

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Feb 22, 2016

Feb 22, 2016 at 10:58 PM UTC

nick-moser

Zenith of Affluence

How is a boy like me from the “not-so-small-anymore” town of Greenville, South Carolina supposed to become a successful poet? Well, I’ve got to do the same thing anyone else would do if they want to become something: First, stop asking questions. Second, start finding the answers. Because it’s all about making it in the World. But remember, if you can make it “here”, you can make it anywhere kid. And if you can’t make it “here”, Then join the **** club.

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I makes $7.50 an hour. I sweep up behind others. I's gittin to be an ol man. My two uncles got lynched outside Greenville. I quit school when I were 13, but I served my country in Vietnam to **** our enemies. Lost most of my left arm. Makes it harder to push a broom. I takes the bus to home and work. Thanks to Mrs. Parks I don't have to sit in the back no more. I go fishin to get away from it all. Catfish--that's what I like to catch. Fry 'em up real good. When I was a kid, had to get off the sidewalk to let them white ladies go bye. To be honest, things hasnt changed much in Mississippi. Don't go out in the night--you might get shot for no good reason. I's still remember the KKK in them white robes. All them burning crosses. Now them folks where coats and ties. Well, I gots to *** back to work or theyll kick me out. You have a good night, ya hear. Thanks for bein so nice to me. TOD HOWARD HAWKS

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Apr 11, 2021

Apr 11, 2021 at 5:41 AM UTC

tod-howard-hawks

A CITIZEN OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

I makes $7.50 an hour. I sweep up behind others. I's gittin to be an ol man. My two uncles got lynched outside Greenville. I quit school when I were 13, but I served my country in Vietnam to **** our enemies. Lost most of my left arm. Makes it harder to push a broom. I takes the bus to home and work. Thanks to Mrs. Parks I don't have to sit in the back no more. I go fishin to get away from it all. Catfish--that's what I like to catch. Fry 'em up real good. When I was a kid, had to get off the sidewalk to let them white ladies go bye. To be honest, things hasnt changed much in Mississippi. Don't go out in the night--you might get shot for no good reason. I's still remember the KKK in them white robes. All them burning crosses. Now them folks where coats and ties. Well, I gots to *** back to work or theyll kick me out. You have a good night, ya hear. Thanks for bein so nice to me. TOD HOWARD HAWKS

21

you said sunlight wave after wave is an endless mercy given to us all Greenville, 10 AM I see water dripping off their tiny black hands in the street i hear their laughter echoing out like wind chimes up the shadows of the city block heat flows out of their purple heads and carries up into the chlorine air into the orchestra of traffic through which we vanish like smoke

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Jul 21, 2019

Jul 21, 2019 at 1:28 PM UTC

yoni-schulman

mercies

you said sunlight wave after wave is an endless mercy given to us all Greenville, 10 AM I see water dripping off their tiny black hands in the street i hear their laughter echoing out like wind chimes up the shadows of the city block heat flows out of their purple heads and carries up into the chlorine air into the orchestra of traffic through which we vanish like smoke

15

The grinning man, informing me that I taste like candy, The ripped bag of candy, purchased yesterday from store number four of our search, The ancient truck, packed already with what remains of ten weeks, The bruises, displayed proudly for fifteen more hours, The eight o’clock train, rattling my kitchen window, The last pink sunset, the ending of our life, the resumption of his and of mine.

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Jan 14, 2017

Jan 14, 2017 at 5:22 PM UTC

illea

July 31, Greenville, NC

The grinning man, informing me that I taste like candy, The ripped bag of candy, purchased yesterday from store number four of our search, The ancient truck, packed already with what remains of ten weeks, The bruises, displayed proudly for fifteen more hours, The eight o’clock train, rattling my kitchen window, The last pink sunset, the ending of our life, the resumption of his and of mine.

6