"localities" poems - Hello Poetry

WAGON WHEEL GAP is a place I never saw And Red Horse Gulch and the chutes of ******* Creek. Red-shirted miners picking in the sluices, Gamblers with red neckties in the night streets, The fly-by-night towns of Bull Frog and Skiddoo, The night-cool limestone white of Death Valley, The straight drop of eight hundred feet From a shelf road in the Hasiampa Valley: Men and places they are I never saw. I have seen three White Horse taverns, One in Illinois, one in Pennsylvania, One in a timber-hid road of Wisconsin. I bought cheese and crackers Between sun showers in a place called White Pigeon Nestling with a blacksmith shop, a post-office, And a berry-crate factory, where four roads cross. On the Pecatonica River near Freeport I have seen boys run barefoot in the leaves Throwing clubs at the walnut trees In the yellow-and-gold of autumn, And there was a brown mash dry on the inside of their hands. On the Cedar Fork Creek of Knox County I know how the fingers of late October Loosen the hazel nuts. I know the brown eyes of half-open hulls. I know boys named Lindquist, Swanson, Hildebrand. I remember their cries when the nuts were ripe. And some are in machine shops; some are in the navy; And some are not on payrolls anywhere. Their mothers are through waiting for them to come home.

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2k

Carl Sandburg

Localities

WAGON WHEEL GAP is a place I never saw And Red Horse Gulch and the chutes of ******* Creek. Red-shirted miners picking in the sluices, Gamblers with red neckties in the night streets, The fly-by-night towns of Bull Frog and Skiddoo, The night-cool limestone white of Death Valley, The straight drop of eight hundred feet From a shelf road in the Hasiampa Valley: Men and places they are I never saw. I have seen three White Horse taverns, One in Illinois, one in Pennsylvania, One in a timber-hid road of Wisconsin. I bought cheese and crackers Between sun showers in a place called White Pigeon Nestling with a blacksmith shop, a post-office, And a berry-crate factory, where four roads cross. On the Pecatonica River near Freeport I have seen boys run barefoot in the leaves Throwing clubs at the walnut trees In the yellow-and-gold of autumn, And there was a brown mash dry on the inside of their hands. On the Cedar Fork Creek of Knox County I know how the fingers of late October Loosen the hazel nuts. I know the brown eyes of half-open hulls. I know boys named Lindquist, Swanson, Hildebrand. I remember their cries when the nuts were ripe. And some are in machine shops; some are in the navy; And some are not on payrolls anywhere. Their mothers are through waiting for them to come home.

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The fairies of chaitra lie on the un–wrinkled bed with their backside up in the hearsay of the air once the woods of tamarisks once the hill of paraffin it appears there is no interruption to this circus the toy-telephones hang from the cloud to cloud from that carnival take birth many kanthali-champa the surgeon comes calmly to the secret of darning all localities are totally maddened by the flow tide of the exudation observing all those happenings the half-broken wave does awake on the sofa-set

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Oct 8, 2010

Oct 8, 2010 at 9:07 PM UTC

murari-sinha

the earthy habitat 7

The fairies of chaitra lie on the un–wrinkled bed with their backside up in the hearsay of the air once the woods of tamarisks once the hill of paraffin it appears there is no interruption to this circus the toy-telephones hang from the cloud to cloud from that carnival take birth many kanthali-champa the surgeon comes calmly to the secret of darning all localities are totally maddened by the flow tide of the exudation observing all those happenings the half-broken wave does awake on the sofa-set

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I've heard it goes, "all is fair in love and war" I'm not sure I agree When localities become marginalized Despite the lack of knowledge That guerrilla warfare comes in waves Like crashing tides against foreign beaches The ones I've never seen I'm not sure if he'll lose his life Upon his first deployment But there isn't much to lose when you've already sold your soul Can you enlist half a person? If that were the case, I'd sign up too And **** the only part of me That's still in love with you

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Feb 3, 2015

Feb 3, 2015 at 2:06 PM UTC

SleepingPewty

guerrilla warfare

I've heard it goes, "all is fair in love and war" I'm not sure I agree When localities become marginalized Despite the lack of knowledge That guerrilla warfare comes in waves Like crashing tides against foreign beaches The ones I've never seen I'm not sure if he'll lose his life Upon his first deployment But there isn't much to lose when you've already sold your soul Can you enlist half a person? If that were the case, I'd sign up too And **** the only part of me That's still in love with you

14

Driving through a remote highway in a thunderstorm, winds howl deafening the ears craving for a consolatory and palliative sound the welkin lit by the fire flashing across the clouds. The rain ****** the cars. The thunder seemed like a dying drummer of a battlefield. The fiery sky ushered callousness into the deserted streets. A mixed feeling of fear and loneliness, anxietic trepidation and forlorn.. Suddenly, appeared a bridge. Lighted feebly by a bygone light post flickering, like the breath of the dying. As soon as I allowed the bridge to place its hand over my head, the noise dampened. the uneasiness decreased. the war ended. and the drummer took a moment to rest his head upon his drum.. a sigh could be felt. there was a sense of composure and calmness Kept hidden in the unfriendly localities outside. The heart wanted to stay, to be wrapped in the serenity. The pacifying feel like a mother holding her child. like a wounded soldier, who returned from the war zone, being taken care and healed by love.. but soon as I left the warmness of the friendly area.. the thunderclaps welcomed me like they got their prey back.. the winds growling against my windshield like an unfriendly knock at the midnight.. the blanket of darkness hides away all the light which once seemed within the reach.. I drove back home.. but with a smile.. Smile, depicting the right prediction of ending up in the same place from where I had been continuously trying to get out.. with a glow on face.. Glow, created by the fire which had been burning everything in front of me.. The tears, though invisible, reminded me of the lows I deserve. doing right, yet losing was a habit now. I marked another red on my ledger but without any jolt. A sigh was enough to show that I was back. That calming, comforting, gentle, peaceful, reassuring, restful, alleviating, consoling, easing, mollifying, pacifying, relaxing, relieving, remedying, softening, warming feeling was you. That bridge was you.

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Oct 25, 2017

Oct 25, 2017 at 6:43 PM UTC

Sunshinenemo

Noxious panacea

Driving through a remote highway in a thunderstorm, winds howl deafening the ears craving for a consolatory and palliative sound the welkin lit by the fire flashing across the clouds. The rain ****** the cars. The thunder seemed like a dying drummer of a battlefield. The fiery sky ushered callousness into the deserted streets. A mixed feeling of fear and loneliness, anxietic trepidation and forlorn.. Suddenly, appeared a bridge. Lighted feebly by a bygone light post flickering, like the breath of the dying. As soon as I allowed the bridge to place its hand over my head, the noise dampened. the uneasiness decreased. the war ended. and the drummer took a moment to rest his head upon his drum.. a sigh could be felt. there was a sense of composure and calmness Kept hidden in the unfriendly localities outside. The heart wanted to stay, to be wrapped in the serenity. The pacifying feel like a mother holding her child. like a wounded soldier, who returned from the war zone, being taken care and healed by love.. but soon as I left the warmness of the friendly area.. the thunderclaps welcomed me like they got their prey back.. the winds growling against my windshield like an unfriendly knock at the midnight.. the blanket of darkness hides away all the light which once seemed within the reach.. I drove back home.. but with a smile.. Smile, depicting the right prediction of ending up in the same place from where I had been continuously trying to get out.. with a glow on face.. Glow, created by the fire which had been burning everything in front of me.. The tears, though invisible, reminded me of the lows I deserve. doing right, yet losing was a habit now. I marked another red on my ledger but without any jolt. A sigh was enough to show that I was back. That calming, comforting, gentle, peaceful, reassuring, restful, alleviating, consoling, easing, mollifying, pacifying, relaxing, relieving, remedying, softening, warming feeling was you. That bridge was you.

50

You always change the subject when I ask about receipts - that turn up in your pockets now and then - For stays in odd localities where branches of the firm you’ve worked for all these years have never been. And isn’t it peculiar how, when late night calls come in, depending on who answers…me, or you… Never will they just hang up…when I don’t beat you to them… but will - so very often - when I do. “You don’t wanna know,” has been your typical response whenever I attempt to learn the truth, But finding out about your sins was not a major feat, and done without the need to play the sleuth. Facts betraying when and where are gleaned from your receipts and features on your phone inform me - who, So all that’s left for me to figure out…and understand… is why - you choose to cheat the way you do. Trying hard to disregard what, somewhere down the road, always ruins a life and breaks a heart, I have been pretending that it’s me you love the most, and tried…for all these months…to do my part. But now it’s very clear to me that you have truly changed, and aren’t the man with whom I fell in love, And how you tear my heart to shreds - by nudging me aside - has fin’ly made its way from - push - to shove! So, now, my love…with great regret (as once again you whisper the name of who you cheat with in your sleep), I’ve decided you should take your leave of this - our bed… and - to your grave - the secrets that you keep! And as I **** the hammer on this pistol that I’m holding… and point it at your unsuspecting head… Through my tears I clearly see the only certain way you’ll never cheat again is…if you’re dead!

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Jun 14, 2020

Jun 14, 2020 at 11:46 AM UTC

stink1950

You Don’t Wanna Know

You always change the subject when I ask about receipts - that turn up in your pockets now and then - For stays in odd localities where branches of the firm you’ve worked for all these years have never been. And isn’t it peculiar how, when late night calls come in, depending on who answers…me, or you… Never will they just hang up…when I don’t beat you to them… but will - so very often - when I do. “You don’t wanna know,” has been your typical response whenever I attempt to learn the truth, But finding out about your sins was not a major feat, and done without the need to play the sleuth. Facts betraying when and where are gleaned from your receipts and features on your phone inform me - who, So all that’s left for me to figure out…and understand… is why - you choose to cheat the way you do. Trying hard to disregard what, somewhere down the road, always ruins a life and breaks a heart, I have been pretending that it’s me you love the most, and tried…for all these months…to do my part. But now it’s very clear to me that you have truly changed, and aren’t the man with whom I fell in love, And how you tear my heart to shreds - by nudging me aside - has fin’ly made its way from - push - to shove! So, now, my love…with great regret (as once again you whisper the name of who you cheat with in your sleep), I’ve decided you should take your leave of this - our bed… and - to your grave - the secrets that you keep! And as I **** the hammer on this pistol that I’m holding… and point it at your unsuspecting head… Through my tears I clearly see the only certain way you’ll never cheat again is…if you’re dead!

33

a google earth stalker hovered & zoomed in on localities that predicted his frequency like an equated John. fanatically checking for refreshed images-- that he may feature as an action shot of undiscovered talent. the quirky habituation of her long distance fix, a savant's out-of-body experience. a rendezvous' autopilot, more accurate than a dreamt address--a gooey **** driving fingernails into tight fists. despoiling the lifelines of palms, eyelids cracked open like blinds voyeuring on the closed door policy of the indecent. now she jams her zipper, while hopping in & out of bed with self-mythology. alone with her body, or alone with another body. she's back on google earth again, fastidiously searching for an appropriate potter's field.

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Aug 9, 2024

Aug 9, 2024 at 8:06 PM UTC

Onoma

Google Earth Stalker

a google earth stalker hovered & zoomed in on localities that predicted his frequency like an equated John. fanatically checking for refreshed images-- that he may feature as an action shot of undiscovered talent. the quirky habituation of her long distance fix, a savant's out-of-body experience. a rendezvous' autopilot, more accurate than a dreamt address--a gooey **** driving fingernails into tight fists. despoiling the lifelines of palms, eyelids cracked open like blinds voyeuring on the closed door policy of the indecent. now she jams her zipper, while hopping in & out of bed with self-mythology. alone with her body, or alone with another body. she's back on google earth again, fastidiously searching for an appropriate potter's field.

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