Dust Bowl

out on the corridor

called the U-S-sixty four

 

black blizzards always rise

creating the farmer's demise

 

from Amarillo to the north

they all saw it from the porch

 

and from the tallest roofs

all things suffered, foot and hoof

 

suitcase farmers and homesteaders

see their bottom lines getting redder

 

unlike the winter wheat they grew

during the times when skies were blue

 

the twenties roared with high prices

and they farmed with bad devices

 

the grassland upturned, dirt exposed

and then came the farmer's throes

 

death to the farmer's way of living

No Man's Land is not very giving

 

a natural treasure in re-making

not a claim worth re-staking

 

and the aquifer will run dry

before it falls down, the sky

 

next year, all the farmers say

and it will rain another day

 

down the line as the drought

falters off and peters out

 

but cycles are like sine waves

turning rich men into poor slaves

 

the Dust Bowl will happen again

we know how, just never when

Reviews

[Pax]

cycles are like sine waves
turning rich men into poor slaves

~ a philosophical thought, though we see much of it in reality. Perhaps life and karma roams in a cycle.
~ i felt like this is an eye opener piece.
~ well done mr. Ken.

[Kenneth The Poet]

Thank you much, Pax.

[Rene Velez]

major work here buddy, images, rhyme and tone are epic. really nice Ken.

[Kenneth The Poet]

Thanks, Rene.

[David Scott]

Prophetic words from the mind of a mathematician with the soul of a poet...
Of course, mathematics is the purest form of poetry, only too few can read it well enough to enjoy the beauty there...
From dust to dust as all are fated.
Well disguised philosophical positionion. Yet even in disguise, the position is clear, once perception clears the eyes.

[Kenneth The Poet]

Thanks so much, David.