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Omajean Lewis' Profile

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About Me and My Poetry

Born 1935 in a half dug out near the " Pack Saddle Bridge," within five miles of the small town of Camargo,Oklahoma, growning up during the Dust Bowl days and amid the early days of the Texas Panhandle Oil Fields, observing WW11 as a child, graduating from Borger,Texas High School and marrying in the early fifties, raising two children Tonya and Brenton through the sixties and seventies and taking care of her parents and parent-in-laws through the nineteen nineties has given Omajean Lewis a unique perspective on life. When not traveling and enjoying her family with her husband Dalton of 61 years, Oma is active as an artist, photographer,poet and writer. In 2012 she was chosen, "Pampa Fine Arts Association, Artist of The Year."

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When my sister and I were just little tikes,
My mother would always say,
Don't get in a car with anyone,
... continued
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I used to walk with my sister,
Singing funny little songs,
She was taking piano,
Mama always let me tag along.
 
Sis was in grade school,
Thinking herself so big,
I was only a year younger,
What an enormous dig.
 
I begged, 'Let me take lessons,"
Sisters getting ahead,
She'll know everthing about piano,
Mama,"That enough said?"
 
I sat at my desk,running my fingers,
Over imaginery ivory piano keys,
Classmates asked," Do you play?"
I answered haughtly, " I plan to?"
 

From fourth grade on, I played
I found I never was fond of piano,
A lot of hard work , because sis loved it,
Dear Lord, if I could change that first day.
                                                                                      

 
 


 
 
 
 
 


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There is a deep dark forest,
That humanity has seldom seen,
Will you come with me,
... continued
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My Grandfather owned a distillery,
Set up in his big old barn,
Just a stones throw from the house,
... continued
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Sister and I were born in 1934 and 35,
Everyone thought we were twins,
Our bobbed black hair,
... continued
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Mother loved this heavenly place,
In a Gazebo, yellow flowers all around,
Looking at the majestic mountains,
... continued
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Tell me sweet little cotton tail rabbit,
What are you doing in Mama's strawberry patch,
We thought we had run you off,
... continued
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My sister and I decided we wanted stilts,
Dad came in from a hard days work,
We begged for stilts until he gave in,
Wooden posts, leather straps and a few pins
 
The stilits were little,so were we,
We were so proud walking around,
Back and forth across the yard,
Making indentions in the ground.
 
This was fun, I don't know why,
Maybe because the neighborhood kids,
Were all giving stilits a gun-ho try,
Busy,as bees clomping around on trees.
 
We thought we were so big,
The stilits were a least four inches,
From step to the ground,
Even falling wouldn't make a sound,
 
Now we had a grown cousin,
Who was daring in the least,
A few days after getting our stilits,
Down the road he came on a couple of trees.
 
We knew it was our cousin, only he would,
Stilits 20 feet high, 16 feet where he stood,
His stilits bowed out with every step,
Scrape, ker plop, scrape ker plop.
 
He came to our house and turned and sat,
Right in the middle on the top of our roof,
We ran and got Mama, scared out of our wits,
Could our cousin be having some kind of fit.
 
He asked for a drink of water,
Mother agreed to this thirsty young man,
Knowning the quicker she quinched his thirst,
He'd be off of her hands.
 
He stood on the roof and got on the stilits,
Scrape ker-plunk, scrape ker-plunk,                                                          
We learned a real hard lesson that day,
We'd had all the stilits we'd ever want.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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Fom the time I was five years old,
I wanted to be a movie star,
To be on the magical screen,
... continued
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Open the gate my love,
For I am coming home,
Tell our children I'll be there,
... continued
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