Kansas Poems
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Cottonwood -- by Robert Cory

Counting Stars -- by Jennifer Ortolani-Tavernaro


Kansas Wild Flowers -- by James Blackmon


Tallgrass Prairie Hospitality -- by Dan Naccarato

Prairie Home Sold -- by Winnie Smith





 New Poems Last Added: 09-22-14

Kansas Wild Flowers (how I met my wife)

by James Blackmon


Looking across this Kansas field

covered with full-bloom-flowers

on a hot humid day

I wonder...

is she real--this woman

in the distance?


Her beauty--

more wonderful

than all the wildflowers between us--

puts me in doubt.


Her stillness...

as solid as an anchored-ship

on calm waters.


She does not pluck flowers from their stems--


she just stands there 

facing me...

piercing the thick, humid, fragrance of this field

with her look.



 by Robert Cory


Amid an unspoiled tract of CRP, at the bend of a creek,

a solitary stand of cottonwoods thrives.

Stubbornly rooted in tranquil, unkempt ground.

Those nearest the bank, lean.

Most others upright, cast against an autumn sky.

Like a scatter of polite applause,

the youthful mime the twitch and rustle of the elders.


Their first shed leaves adrift.

Yellowing, nonplussed shapes savor the flight;

their once in a lifetime ride.

The fallen form a misshapen mattress for the falling

till wind shuttles them elsewhere.

The creek bed warehouses the lionís share.

Barren branches part sunlight into oblong wedges.


The north faces of their trunks bear winterís brunt.

Enduring brute forces. They resist the siege.

Indigenous visitors search for something that matters.

Late night calls of a coyote add weight to the dark.

The meek, the bold, the vigilant; hunter and hunted;

all roam unseen whether stars, moon,

sun, cloud, snow, or pricks of freezing rain.


As patrons of St. Oestrus instinctively stir,

March arrives; bearing a trove of miracles, caprice

and swagger. Welcome! ...nascent hues of native flora;

the pride of a rain flush creek.

Listen! ...to the vernacular of a hundred small voices.

Soon all will give thanks for April.

Quickening the gait to redemption.


Prairie Home Sold
by Winnie Smith


Prairie home sold.

Heritage strewn with the bang for





Stuff to others,

gut-churning reminders to me.


The recall of each ... its own chapter.


I am an honor student.


Counting Stars

By Jennifer Ortolani-Tavernaro


Summer stretched out on the hood of my car

Like a cat during a winterís nap

The warmth comforting

Even in the July heat.

Out on a dirt road

Just me and the boy.

We counted stars and talked of constellations

The sky held a thousand secrets

The World a million possibilities

Our hearts kept time with the locustís song

As we spun our way through adolescence

In a small Kansas town.


Tallgrass Prairie Hospitality

by Dan ďCoach NacĒ Naccarato


Daily voyages seldom carry us
            beyond frontiers of our familiar farm

Sometimes we venture curious glimpses
            of beckoning green from perches guarded
            by rails of rhythm and ritual

We spy glorious burgeoning pastures
            behind barbed wire and yonder gravel roads
           perceptible but blurred by dusty gray
            clouds of self-doubt and insecurity

Shall we scale property lines to picnic 
            or heed vigilant voices in our heads -
            spurious rumormongers whispering
            criticisms and concocting scandals  

Arriving at enchanted terraces
            Kansas souls could welcome us and affirm -
            We knew you would come
            Where have you been and
            What took you so long?












All poetry on this page
© by
their authors - 2014




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