This Poem was Submitted By: Ellen K Lewis On Date: 2006-06-23 10:57:04 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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My Home On the Prairie

My little cabin, small and humble on short stilts above the ground I am never really alone out here though it's the only one around. With 2 feet of air space under me and a high porch to gaurd the door a breeze, if ever there is one will brush across my floor. The trantula's down under me and the snakes that rattle their tales are happy to lay quietly in the airspace under the stairs. Early each morning I step outside to see and feel  fresh air sometimes it feels wonderful but lately it's not there. The wind has stopped her breathing the rain no longer falls the dew comes not in the morning and the dust has entered  the well. Even the staunch and stubborn sunflower has no seed to share this  year                                                the scarecrow stands indignently there are no birds to scare. The wildfires have stolen from me the shade trees, and the garden My little pond I once adored is now mud; cracked and hardened.  . Now the eagle and the crow wild turkeys and the grouse call my name nevermore or roost atop my house. .Alas! the locust showing his strength too soon upon the plain and all the prairie grass is  gone along with the beans and the grains. Inside my blanket door I keep a rifle and a pick;  one to scare the coyote's away the other for the snakes. And yet, I stay here, on the prairie with air too hot to breathe For I would have no other home if I would have to leave. It's hot and dry and very dirty but here is a world of my  own cactus, aloe,  and yucca plants and prairie dogs to invade my home. So leave me out here when I die my bones buried under the dust but set my ashes out to fly on my prairie to boom or bust.  

Copyright © June 2006 Ellen K Lewis


This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2006-07-05 13:39:14
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.87500
This brought back many memories, the prairie dog, dust, heat, and wind. Good descriptives here. The wildfires are something else to behold. Right now there are several threatening one of the communities I used to live in. However you got to watch your spelling. I've picked up on at least four words Do you not use spell check? I liked the passage about the rifle and the pick. Very apropos but the coyotes never really bothered us. I think they were more afraid of us than we of them.


This Poem was Critiqued By: Jordan Brendez Bandojo On Date: 2006-07-02 04:13:24
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.68750
Hi Ellen, The voting period is almost done. I am just reading here. I just want to say that I enjoyed this poem as it talks about nature the way you describe the dwelling place is kind of what I have experienced. In our province we have abundant trees, grasses and the gift of nature. Hopefully this will remain abundant as I am afraid some people are doing illegal logging. The ending is poignant and I feel like I am part of it! Jordan
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2006-06-24 19:59:39
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.90476
Hi Ellen, My Home On the Prairie {good draw} My little cabin, small and humble on short stilts above the ground {this needs a verb, does it set/squats ? } I am never really alone out here though it's the only one around. With 2 feet of air space under me {prefer to have “2” spelled} and a high porch to [gaurd] the door [guard] a breeze, if ever there is one will brush across my floor. The [trantula's] down under me [tarantula’s] and the snakes that rattle their [tales] {do you mean “tails” or this a play on words} are happy to lay quietly in the airspace under the stairs. Early each morning I step outside to see and feel fresh air {do we really see “fresh air”} sometimes it feels wonderful but lately it's not there. The wind has stopped her breathing the rain no longer falls the dew comes not in the morning {and} the dust has entered the well. {you could loose the “and” , would carry pattern} {Even} the staunch and stubborn sunflower has no seed to share this year the scarecrow stands [indignently] [indignitly] there are no birds to scare{.} {The} wildfires have stolen from me the shade trees, {and} the garden My little pond I once adored is now mud{;} cracked and hardened. {,} . Now the eagle and the crow {try, The eagle, the crow wild turkeys and the grouse {the wild turkeys, the grouse call my name nevermore or roost atop my house. {nor in place of “or”} .Alas! the locust showing his strength {next for lines are confusing, like something is too soon upon the plain {missing} and all the prairie grass is gone along with the beans and the grains. Inside my blanket door I keep a rifle and a pick{;} one to scare {the} coyote's away the other for {the} snakes. {And} yet, I stay here, on the prairie with air too hot to breathe For I would have no other home if I would have to leave. It's hot and dry and very dirty but {this line is redundant} here is a world of my own cactus, aloe, {and} yucca plants {and} prairie dogs to invade my home. {So} leave me out here when I die my bones buried under the dust {but} set my ashes out to fly on my prairie to boom or bust. You have a nice story here albeit a bit too long. You need to tighten it up. Loose the superfluous words, many are not needed. If your going to punctuate, use it throughout the poem and please no semi-colons. Please, double check your spelling before posting since we don’t have anyway to correct it once it is posted, all of us have made spelling boo-boos that we wished we could change once posted. I like what you’ve set out to say but got bogged down with the extra words that unbalance the cadence. These are only suggestions, keep them or throw the, best to you. Lora
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2006-06-23 13:28:14
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.85714
My Home On the Prairie My little cabin, small and humble on short stilts above the ground I am never really alone out here though it's the only one around. With 2 feet of air space under me and a high porch to gaurd the door a breeze, if ever there is one will brush across my floor. The trantula's down under me and the snakes that rattle their tales are happy to lay quietly in the airspace under the stairs. Early each morning I step outside to see and feel fresh air sometimes it feels wonderful but lately it's not there. The wind has stopped her breathing the rain no longer falls the dew comes not in the morning and the dust has entered the well. Even the staunch and stubborn sunflower has no seed to share this year the scarecrow stands indignently there are no birds to scare. The wildfires have stolen from me the shade trees, and the garden My little pond I once adored is now mud; cracked and hardened. . Now the eagle and the crow wild turkeys and the grouse call my name nevermore or roost atop my house. .Alas! the locust showing his strength too soon upon the plain and all the prairie grass is gone along with the beans and the grains. Inside my blanket door I keep a rifle and a pick; one to scare the coyote's away the other for the snakes. And yet, I stay here, on the prairie with air too hot to breathe For I would have no other home if I would have to leave. It's hot and dry and very dirty but here is a world of my own cactus, aloe, and yucca plants and prairie dogs to invade my home. So leave me out here when I die my bones buried under the dust but set my ashes out to fly on my prairie to boom or bust. Hi Ellen....I was so upset that I could not read all your words clearly so I did a copy and paste hoping that would do the trick and it did! This is a lovely poem and one which is near and dear to my heart. I live in Wyoming (I may have told you that) and we have been in a drought for what seems like forever...so this piece sings to me in every line. Your images are so clear and as I read it I was able to put myself right there with you...however I have never seen a cabin or an old homestead that was on stilts. But no matter where it is you have done an excellent job of writing about it. A little nit...in your second stanza I would write out the word 'two' instead of using the number '2'. I love the notion of the breeze brushing across the floor....I have seen this so many times. We don't have trantulas here (thank heavens as I am scared to death of them) but snakes we do have...not afraid of them!...'the wind has stopped her breathing, the rain no longer falls' is a creative line, I wish I had written it. Also the line about the scarecrow having nothing to scare is creative. There are a couple of places where there is too much space between words....in the 5th stanza 'the well' should be a space closer to the previous word but this could be because I copied and pasted it....small thing which in no way detracts from this well written poem. I like the way you ended this...shows determination and strength. Well done....I enjoyed it from the first line to the last. My best....Marilyn
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