I Held The Sun in my Right Hand



The land where I grew up
was a wild land.
I was young, and held the sun
in my right hand.

Long prairie grasses,
and the orange flowers
of flat, long-spiked cacti
bloom in the spring.

Rattle snakes
coil in piles,
like fresh cow patties,
on the hot, dirt roads.

Sundays, we worshiped
at the dam, casting our lines
into clear water.
Eating bass over an open fire.

The wind and sun, constant...
The big sky, wide enough
to swallow you whole,
down to the soul.

No reason for lies
or putting on airs out here.
You know who you are,
and your neighbors as well.

The only surprise is
in the growing of children.
How like or unlike
their parents they are.

And the seasons roll...
The cows go to market,
and the wheat is
harvested and stored.

School starts again.
And again...
the war with snow
and cold begins.

Spring comes in March
to the flute song of meadowlark,
and the wind that flies
the kites and dries the fields.

The cacti blooms again.
The grasshoppers return.
Big, green hoppers,
big, dusty-gray flyers.

Kittens are born and
swaddled in blankets
by little girls, until grown
they escaped in dresses.

This is the Dakota prairie.
The land of God's grace
To my pony and me
there was no better place.
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Submitted on February 13, 2013

Modified on March 05, 2023

1:06 min read
1

Quick analysis:

Scheme XABA CDXX XXXX XXEE XXFF GXHX IBXH FXIX JJXX XXGX JXDD XXXC KLKL
Closest metre Iambic trimeter
Characters 1,146
Words 221
Stanzas 13
Stanza Lengths 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4

Sandra Manning

I believe that poetry is the music of the soul. Your music can be either sad or beautiful or ethereal or ugly. Its how you make it, just like your life. I try to write poetry that will feed into the good in other peoples lives. more…

All Sandra Manning poems | Sandra Manning Books

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