Poetry

 
Full circle.
A poem
By Charles
 
I am neither indigenous
Nor native of this land.
This land we call Oklahoma.
My forefathers left these low rolling hills
Of parched red dirt.
Way back when
Red dirt bellowed as a streaming river
in the air.
Leaving Forefathers and mothers  traveling away from this dry sun burned land and the
Noonday orange sun.
These Pilgrims Voyaged to western panoramas.
Venturing westward towards the Golden State and the great
Fruited Central valley.
Surely riches and treasures
Beyond the purple mountains did lie
For my exploring ancestors.
But for me returning to
These red Plaines is best.
Better than being
Homeless in L A.
 
Copyright, 2023 C. R. Ayers