A poem from the Red Dirt Plaines.

Okie Poetry This sure am not Hollywood Nineteen forty-one was the year Carl, Sr. and his bashful bride Left the parched and dry farm. They arrived in the coast to the west with two Toddlers in tow. Carl, Jr. and Peggy Sue. The four of them fresh off The Route some called 66. One man’sContinue reading “A poem from the Red Dirt Plaines.”

Okie poet society, a poem.

Red Dirt Poetry. By Okie beyond borders Dusty winds whistled about Through the baren leafless trees. The rusty sandpaper sky hung over the horizon like a theater backdrop As if In a John Steinbeck novel. Shuffling and searching in the foreground for whatever meager sustenance there possibly could be Were silhouettes of three searchers. Billy,Continue reading “Okie poet society, a poem.”