My mother was born in a small farming community in Kentucky. While my grandmother was still alive we visited every summer. To this day some of my fondest memories growing up come from spending time here.
The grass was blue
Rather a Blue green Hue
Where my mothers birth Place
Gives new life to town schools
Reminiscent of the south's old song
Sung to the tune of small towns
Thoroughbred dreams
Long and lean
Baseball teams of one
Hit the long ball
Using a stick and a rock
Against the tobacco background
Railroad walks
Echo into forever
Resonate to a child's wings
Of fleeting thoughts
Blackberries and summer fairs
Big memories that consist of small events
Cast a grandiose image
That reality can not replace
A hero for a moment (in my mind)
As I played on this field of no fences
In a place that time has forgotten
A pretend cowboy that has cast
His dreams to a distant past
Poetry by Kee Zealy
Read 480 times
Editors' choice
Written on 2009-03-14 at 23:39
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The Grass Was Blue
The grass was blue
Rather a Blue green Hue
Where my mothers birth Place
Gives new life to town schools
Reminiscent of the south's old song
Sung to the tune of small towns
Thoroughbred dreams
Long and lean
Baseball teams of one
Hit the long ball
Using a stick and a rock
Against the tobacco background
Railroad walks
Echo into forever
Resonate to a child's wings
Of fleeting thoughts
Blackberries and summer fairs
Big memories that consist of small events
Cast a grandiose image
That reality can not replace
A hero for a moment (in my mind)
As I played on this field of no fences
In a place that time has forgotten
A pretend cowboy that has cast
His dreams to a distant past
Poetry by Kee Zealy
Read 480 times
Editors' choiceWritten on 2009-03-14 at 23:39
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Elle |
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Editorial Team |
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melanie sue |
