"southerner" poems
The man at the bar
He is a young ****
He's got years on his slate
Double my own
A bottle of scotch
He swishes away
The British way
Born in London
Now a Southerner
Touring the country
With his Wife,
Elene
Not missing a thing
Quite the engineer
Laughing away
With each glass
The bartender brings
Flapping his yap
At the pretty young miss
Residing at the bar
Enjoying her dinner
No longer feeling a part
From the crowd
Oct 21, 2011
Oct 21, 2011 at 8:58 PM UTC
“Yorkshire! Yorkshire!” I hear the EDL scream,
as if somehow the county, relates to their regime?
Trying to push on others their far right views,
and tainting Yorkshire with their taboos
cos Yorkshire to me, is whatever the **** I want it to be,
I do love a bit of local pride...
maybe to revel in the comfort it provides,
and even though stereotypes say we're tight,
as well as stubborn, argumentative (they're prolly right),
But I'd rather that, than be uptight,
like a stereotypical southerner might
I recently read a quote from Stuart Maconie,
“England has a bottom half,
but there isn't a south, in the same way there's a north”
The North in the south means desolation,
A cultural wasteland with deserted stations,
a place built on violent, aggressive foundations,
With mid summer Arctic temperature fluctuations,
Nothing that comes close to a nation....
But that's not what I see,
To be from the north means good fish and chips,
with tomato sauce and vinegar, it's glory on the lips,
I see people willing to lend a hand,
A honest chat about the weather as you stand at a bus stop
that you never planned,
It doesn't matter whether it's a cob, bun, bap, barm or roll,
Or that the north was ****** over by the outsourcing of coal,
Or your opinion that we're all just sat on the dole, drinking tea out of a ***** bowl.
We should still all have a similar goal,
To have a good time,
and not hurt a soul
Sometimes I do like to revel in the divide,
but I'll always welcome people from the other side,
Acceptance is not sin,
and if you let it,
it generally ends up with a win : win
What's Yorkshire to you? I haven't got a clue... but come sit down so we can have a chat and a brew! And hopefully we'll both learn something we never knew.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
You can yank me out of Yorkshire but I still want Yorkshire pudding
You can send me south but I’ll still go bargain hunting
Even though it is that I live in the South
I still have a hint of the northern mouth
Well that’s what the southerners say
But I’m sure to you it doesn’t sound that way
Anyway regardless where I am at
I’m Yorkshire bred and that’s a fact
To present this case to you
Some traits of yours; I have a few
I chose cheese to partner fruitcake
And forever search for savings to make
I always speak what’s on my mind
Which at times southerners think unkind
Though they themselves aren’t so good
When it comes to small talk in moments stood
A stranger is a momentary friend to a northerner
Whilst the southerner stands awkwardly waiting
I know which I would rather be
Let’s just say it has its’ own tea
So I am most pleased to see
That so much of you has rubbed off on me
For you my northern family
Are in my thoughts more than you know
And without you I would not be so
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
I am an exoskeleton
Falling to pieces
Half alive yet entirely dead
Crumbling and translucent
Delicate, and drifts, fluttering
With a single breath from someone
Nearby
I could be crushed or mangled
By a strike of the hand or a flick of a finger
But because I am considered beautiful and strange
I am kept preserved
The world revolves around beauty and
Oddities and I become one of these
Studied anomalies, a curiosity, merely
Because I am not like them
I am Oriental
And Occidental
I am a Southerner
And a Northerner
I am malnourished
Yet well fed
I am thin and short
But my stature belies my power
I am a geek, nerd, braniac, dork, and overachiever
But remain a stupid, ignorant, procrastinator
I am certainly an curio; a
Living
Breathing
Walking
Oxymoron
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 12:37 PM UTC
Spill some of your yourself,
Sweet southerner,
your smile graced,
chants a lost stranger.
Carried the spirit
of positivity and cheer.
Divine charm,
ah, your sweet voice I hear.
I've married your graces,
your poise is unimaginable,
heart's melted
attitude's desirable.
How I wish,
I can have you with me;
oh, Sweet southerner
let me take you to my city.
where we can walk;
like there's no dead ends.
where we can eat,
all the delicious cravings
where we can satisfy
our needs, In our precious ways;
my dream, Our days,
Under Sweet southern rays.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 11:54 AM UTC
I've always wanted to be a southerner
not the "refined" southern
more of that blue grass southern
most of that blue grass southern
are always on their way home
crossing land marks; cumberland gap, georgia river, rocky top
you see that blue grass southern
always has a "baby," a someone
waiting for them
when your that blue grass southern
you have blues that are deep
but your tune is always bright
well with that blue grass southern
your always searching for that simpler
never northern life
so please just give me
more of that blue grass southern
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 11:36 PM UTC
Calcium bricks stink spilled
gossip,
broken others granddad forgot
to mend when he fertilized the azalea bushes.
The mummified Southerner could ****
in the wind. And be happy. And be quiet.
Much like the blind man
staring out the window into the murky water,
"Mock me
and all your flowers will never bloom."
My granddad would say
till the day he became
the dirt beneath the stone.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 3:15 AM UTC
Some went West
and others went East.
The ones in between
found they liked South the least.
The traitorous winds
carried news from the mouth
of a stranger who wandered
the dreaded South.
They said:
"Glory and war in the West.
Peace and sacrifice in the East.
The North holds freedoms and complex rules.
The South has no time for such duels."
Those of the West,
those of the East,
and the Northern inbetweeners
listened with incredulity.
But the Southerner just repeats:
"Glory and war in the West.
Peace and sacrifice in the East.
The North holds freedoms and complex rules.
The South has no time for such duels."
"If we fight not for glory,
then why fight at all?
War is a necessary evil!"
Those Westerners say, how uncivil.
"Peace cannot yield
without sacrifice.
Someone always has to lose their life!"
Easterners cry full of strife.
"Freedoms are protected
if you follow the rules.
Speech must be regulated, calm, and cool."
Said from those under Northern rule.
But the Southerner repeats like a record loop:
"Glory and war in the West.
Peace and sacrifice in the East.
The North holds freedoms and complex rules.
The South has no time for such duels."
Then the wind finally stopped
spreading its message.
But the lofty seeds that traveled with the wind,
planted themselves in places they've never been.
And they started to grow into something more.
Freedoms and rules.
Peace and sacrifice.
Glory and War.
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 11:39 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Psychedelic Love Makin',
Grabbing energy from the stars that we promise would
Not be taken,
Kissing Everytime like we've seen each other for the first
Time in a long time but it was just awhile ago when our
Love got stronger,
Stronger than those memories,
Right here where you need me to be,
You know you could always call on me,
You Know you could always call on me,
Not a buzzkill or an enemy,
I'm simply, your necessity,
And all these things you do to me,
I'm vividly tapping out nervously,
In the air below your window where the lilies grow and gather
Up the courage to say what they have to say when they're alive,
Even just being in your company will comfort me like giving trees
In the midst of spring where the feelings collide,
You're so pretty , wheres your kidneys , drinking Bourbon like
A southerner in a graceful way when the pigs will fly and see
Better days,
Call on me and I'll be there to stop the habit and the insecurities,
Swear it will be always this way, I promise.
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 12:14 PM UTC
They'll think I'm crazy for this,
But I'm certain they already do
You're not here yet,
But I'm confident someday in the future
The world sure is gonna welcome you
You'll be bright
A shining star
With a head full of curls
Always setting the bar
You'll be kind
Looking out for others
With a smile
Patient, like a Southerner
You'll be humble
A skilled listener
With arms open
For any visitor
You'll be witty
Eliciting laughter from many
With joy as your purpose
And remarkably friendly
You'll be loving
Deeply, so deeply
With a heart
Crafted ever uniquely
You're not here yet,
But someday we'll meet
For now, you'll remain in my heart
As I count its beats
Until I witness these words
Of all that you'll be
I know of their truth
Because you'll inherit them from me
© JL Smith
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 12:55 PM UTC
The barefoot southerner walks the land
He revels in charming Appalachia
A smile of his home
How to make our way out west?
The skies are eternal loving arms
Wrapped around the mountains
A feeling of home
How to make our way out west?
The sunset of the Cumberland ridge
The sky becomes blood in your veins
A heartbeat of home
How to make our way out west
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 5:58 PM UTC
Mary’s Mother is from Georgia, her Father from Pennsylvania.
A steelers flag hangs on Mary’s front porch, and every Sunday night in the fall means eating chicken wings while adorned in black and gold.
Mary’s Father has an office.
Inside of it lay a few rusting guitars, but the walls of the room are what truly catch your eye.
The paint itself, a dull muted gray is immaterial when compared to the dozens of plaques that enhance it.
Each frame carries a different piece of Groundhog’s Day memorabilia, many house pictures of Punxsutawney Phil, one is a certificate declaring Mary’s Father an “official Groundhog ambassador”, another an autographed photo from a Groundhog handler.
Mary’s Father claims that Groundhog’s day is America’s second greatest holiday.
Mary’s parents were married at Gobbler's ****
Punxsutawney Phil attended the wedding.
Mary and her little sister stayed home from school every Groundhog’s day in elementary school, and in middle school they attended but came to school in matching Groundhog hats.
Mary’s kitchen counter has a small black speaker.
Each Sunday morning, Mary’s Father blasts the Polka Party Radio Show hours into the afternoon.
The whole family knows all of the polka songs by heart.
Each Sunday morning they came together to listen to the “Waltz of The Angels”, a Polka special dedicated to various passed loved ones.
Even the turntable in Mary’s dining room only plays Pennsylvania Polka vinyls.
Mary’s incredibly familiar with Hershey Park.
She and her sister have brought home various souvenirs from Pennsylvania’s notorious “Chocolate Town”.
Mary’s family knows Gettysburg like the back of their hand.
I’ve known Mary for over a decade.
I never knew her mother was from Georgia.
“The Southerner’s Handbook” sits in Mary’s living room, the only true mark of Mary’s Mother’s life before she surrendered her maiden name.
I think it is a beautiful thing to give up your culture for somebody else.
I think it is a beautiful thing to sing Pennsylvania Dutch folk music with your Husband on late weekend nights because you know it makes your children happy.
Oct 3, 2021
Oct 3, 2021 at 4:03 PM UTC
There is no perfume on earth -
that can equal the smell of fresh cut
grass
A June gardenia or morning wisteria
A Cherokee rose or July honeysuckle
rows
There's never been a scent bottled that could equal -
Mothers Tea garden in full summer throttle
No aromatic elixir available could ever-
compete with the 'tickle of the nose' from a -
homegrown tomato
Try to entice this southerner with a fragrance of such monumental -
power that it could pull him away from the lure of magnolia -
flowers
O how I envy the masonry soldier
A permanent sentry at the flower bed entry ...
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 10:06 AM UTC
Poetry people,
Only a few see what we do,
Draw illusion, at the head of a pen,
Or our,
Words on this app, that's written within,
The wildest emotion,
Coasting,
Brainwaves, these days talk words, with no says, but let the words say,
Read it back to back,
Like a book publisher off the rack,
Yeah take a look at that,
So many writers, so many igniters,
Genre specific,
Let me ignite, watch the real recite it,
Like a piano ensemble,
Melodies massagin' ya temple, this is negative coat proof,
Til ya explode through the roof,
Of ya cellulars, I'm hear to tell ya,
We share same grain,
Not here, to smother ya, I'm just ol boy southerner,
Turned into a man, ever since poetry was blessed in my hand,
We in demand, more folks need to stand, commission us writers,
Without the contraband, united with fans,
And a few followers to pan,
Out my business, what is this,
This is just a sample, poetry people rock with me,
A special gift with a curse, linked with the universe,
Many will see but it's so random,
Even if we was took, it couldn't be priced at a ransom
Nov 13, 2023
Nov 13, 2023 at 5:41 PM UTC
Are we in____
((Hell))
This is no
((Liberty Bell))
We are the high water
War below and what's up
Will you never know?
Green mudfish
alligators
Decomposed
no growth
Never Oh!
My sweet Lord
Never produce
a broken
family cord_____
Electricity
The procreation
Oh! God_____
To raise the
waterbed
floating
Producing_ babies
crying
detention
Troubled
abortion____ tears__ fears__
Beer pockets
Most valuable
Moms locket
Let's never forget
Eternity of lifetimes
I am frightened
Be ready set
The bad
impressions
Never to be belittled
infractions
Presidential
Re-produced
Its all in our genes
a bad temper
fuse
((Rose))
I suppose
I am smelling____Gucky
****** Icky, Too picky
Up to my neck long
hickey play Stuckey
Never dull moment
The player of hockey______
The streets foul
smell putrid
Ever or never
Can we all do better
It darkens's our spirit
Bitter smile Egyptian
The Nile or God sake
The Northern star
All greased Southerner
Fried Chicken
There's never
A smile day his
Mom deceased
Her bad haircut
Rotted beams
Red devil NJ
dreams
Never be
miserable or____?
What! The weaker
The prey of all weeks
They go in three's
Turned into rotten
One Apple
computer
Unsatisfactory
No sweat of
the factory
The composer
Squirrels and
Comedy Will Ferrell
Will Smith
got locked
Bad report
Movie card
Geologically
Rotten
The poem
almost got
hidden
Robin wanted
everyone
To be happy
in this
rotten
unforgiving
world
To Produce
Spiritual blessing
He smiles with
that Kraft
: Rotten Greens:
His Witch
dressing____
Never
produce
Dead boring-set
producer
Under-cut
pay riot
Never act
like
idiots
thrown
inside
a fruit bin
Never
Fruit loops
to be priced
I got stuck
by ((Cactus))
pin
Take it from me
Brooklyn girl
((Canarsie))
Never the
Tootsie
roll
Taking a ride
inside
my soul
Hello to all
my family**
So forever loyal***
But the Disloyal
Dangerous
earth
Morally corrupt
everyone
feels so rotten
Someone got to you
what nerves
to interrupt
What we interpret
on the internet
Mr. Mcintosh
Overly friendly Josh
The pink lady
Let's never
produce
anything shady
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 9:40 AM UTC
Some people don't pray
Some people can't
I'm stayin' with Aunt Sally
But ya know she's not really my aunt
Food truck tonight
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
Been to New Orleans once
Never Texarkana
Not really a southerner
Though I've lived years in the South
At times not even American
Despite such sounds from my mouth
More like an expat
Wandering Bangkok to Rome
Human life is exile.
Where, O where is home?
Feb 11, 2021
Feb 11, 2021 at 8:46 PM UTC
I don't care if you love me
But I'd like you to
I push you away
But I want you to stay
I say mean things
Even when my heart is full of love for you
You were the rose
And I was the thorns
You were a ray of sunshine
And I was your stormy night
You made my day better
And all I did was make you blue
I tell you I won't force you to stay
In hope that you won't leave
You were a honey suckle
And I was your wasp
You were a cure
And I was your poison
You were life
And I was death
You were front stage
And I was your shadow
You were skipping
And I was slipping
You were smiling
And I was frowning
You were peace
And I was the war
You were found
And I was lost
You were loved
And I was ******
You were too good for me
And I was not enough
So please stay...
Or don't
I don't care
Even if I do
I like you
I don't like you
You were sensitive
And I was insensitive
You were a Northerner
And I was a Southerner
You were the moon
And I was the wolf
You were the cherry
And I was the stem
You were the flower
And I was the dirt
You were Heaven
And I was your Hell
You heart is whole
I don't have a heart
Your life is complete
My life hasn't started
You were sweet
And I was bitter
You were the wild berries
And I was the vine
You were soft
And I was hard
You were a cloud
And I was the rain
You were a planet
And I was the asteroid
You were the water
And I was the Fire
You are an Angel
And I am a Demon
You fixed me
I broke you
You still stayed
You were afraid to speak your mind
But I was a blunt
You spared the feelings of everyone
I spared no one
You were as soft as a teddy bear
And I was as hard as steel
You were glass
Marked 'fragile'
I was a bomb
Marked 'dangerous'
Don't you see?
I am hard to love
I am insensitive
I am caring
I love with a passion
And hate with my heart
Nothing can hurt me
Eventhough I feel everything in vain
I will defend you
I will leave you
I will love you
I will hurt you
I will say mean things
And do kind
I will not care of you
Even if my heart does
I will say goodbye
Even if my arms say stay
The door is right there...
Just leave
But I am right here...
Just stay
I am a girl
With many different sides
I am love
I am hate
I am ammo
I am the gun
I am the band aid
I am the doctor
I will love you till my last breath
Or when you decide to leave
Beware of me, this is a warning!
I am hard to love.
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 7:44 PM UTC