It's just poetry, it won't bite


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Midwest Sunset by John Dorroh

Midwest Sunset by John Dorroh

brushstrokes of summer
By Sandy Patton

brushstrokes of summer
golden hues and turquoise blues
heaven’s canopy

Blazing Skies
By Laura Zucca-Scott

When the sky is blazing
With the rage of another day
Of battles lost and hard words
I pause at the familiar sight
of land and dirt roads
But my eyes look for the shadows
For what is hiding in the distance

Tomorrow will come
On a new landscape
of earth and humans
Who do not know each other
and seldom look at the sky
If not in a single moment
of desperate inspiration

Midwest Sunset
By John Dorroh

I wait for you, my darling sky.
I wait for you to pull out your palette,
inviting the world to stop breathing
just for a moment, to look up and out,
to breathe in the glory, the energy.

You hide your son so well, covering
his flesh with a shroud of color—lemon
yellow, orange, a shade of blue I’ve
never seen. Salmon, peach, names
not invented.

And you ask me from 475 miles away
why I choose to stay in this Midwest
wasteland, why I gave up bones and blood
for prairie lands and dangerous winds
that blow barns past the bedroom window.

This is it, my sky, my daily salvation,
my elixir, the way She takes me by the hand
and leads me into deep sleep and dreams.