I am from a yellow cat sleeping on a porch
and from a white-haired woman in a faded bonnet
tending a garden of hollyhocks and flags.
I am from butterflies dancing in the sunlight.
I am from the sand and the grassburrs,
and from a forest of blackjacks and post oaks
hard as cast iron.
I am from pinto beans and cornbread.
I am from the cotton fields and the pea patch,
from quilts made of feedsacks and dress scraps
and from pallets laid on bare floors for sleeping.
I am from blackland farmers and schoolteachers
and from an uncle killed in a war.
I am from a cedar chest filled with packets of letters,
faded Kodak prints, newspaper clippings, and crayon drawings.
I am from a church built of cypress planks
hauled across the prairie on a horsecart.
I am from sweet-smelling roses and wildflowers
blooming in an overgrown graveyard at the end of a narrow road.
Another post inspired by Fred. This and the ones at his site are modeled after a poem by George Ella Lyons.
Comments (5)
Did you write that? It is lovely!!!
Fred’s been reading “Poemcrazy” I see.
One of the best!
I didn’t acctually read this…because I’m looking for info on this poet. It’s said that he killed someone a long time ago;-(…You don’t believe me?It’s true…
What a NICE poem!
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Nature Boy
Fred from Fragments From Floyd first made the call to people to try their hand at this exercise, an expression, in verse, of your orig…
Nature Boy
Fred from Fragments From Floyd first made the call to people to try their hand at this exercise, an expression, in verse, of your orig…