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Monday, October 14, 2019

My poem, boyhood of prairie life

Prairie Boy 

Born on the prairie 
in an upstairs bedroom 

Sod busters came there 
early eighteen hundreds 

Seven miles from town 
share cropper mom and dad 

One twenty acres 
Eastern Nebraska hills 

Too small for a horse 
he rode his bike to school 

First girl friend was there 
Storm cellar clandestine  

Changed schools for high school 
rode horse grades nine ten 

He helped on the farm 
and milked cows year around 

Last two years in town 
he earned a scholarship 

End of prairie life 
Jimmy had made big town 
 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright,  Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I'm linked with Marian in the Imaginary Garden at http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2019/10/prairie-in-sky.html?m=1

 - This what came to mind after reading my environment growing up as glorified in the link above.  My growing up years in a Nutshell Poem.   I could elaborate on any verse but no need to boar you more.
 - I won't rewrite or change as I am in the middle of on-line completion of my continuing education for my annual Texas State Bar licences renewal.
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8 comments:

  1. The thirst to get away but hopefully to return visit with a good job later.

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  2. What a great history - i hope the city brought as many good things as the prairie

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  3. Clandestine in the storm cellar, that's a charming image :)
    But you made big town! And now your continuing education for the bar! Who'da thunk it way back when?

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  4. This took me back to stories my grandma told me of living in the days before people had cars. She rode her horse into town and where she lived, she could see ruts in the ground made by covered wagons. Wow.

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  5. Storm cellars sounds great. I can understand that, the rest is something that is so far from my own growing up

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  6. Well I like your spin on prairie life ... my growing up was pretty much prairie too. Then the big cities.

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  7. and that "country" side of our nature never truly leaves us. And that is a good thing!

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  8. You can leave the country but the country never leaves you... I often yearn for open fields and wild blue sky.

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