Icy cold rips through my seams –
icicles invade my dreams…
Forever, sometimes, it seems…

Yet awaken new to thawing spring –
finding robins and cardinals on wing –
prancing, so merrily they sing…

Spiders crawl in through the holes –
hidden by last years maple leaves,
crackly brown now, against
the foundation in wet clumps….
my spirit rises, but sumps –
to find a spider in my shoe…

Soon comes the 500 mile race –
parties, people, pretty parades –
Rah! My favorite driver wins –
see him in the palisades….
Drinking milk in the shade…

Summer’s end comes too soon ….
hearing the call of the loons …
Hurry now, hurry now….
They cry, nudging the young –
fly now, fly away….

Last picnic, ears of corn –
roasted in butter – dripping
sticky fingers, taste lingers…

The geese said fare well today.
And now time to close my eyes.
Another year gone by…
Stretching, stretching…
Good winter nod, friend…
’til spring anew….

© 2015 John Allen Richter


About johnallenrichter

I am an aspiring Poet and adorer of life, a conqueror of nothing. However I am a champion curator of truth and friendship and hold both of those things most dearly to my heart. Welcome to my mind's eye. I hope you will enjoy what you may find and please know that you have a friend here. View all posts by johnallenrichter

28 responses to “Hoosierville

  • Björn Rudberg (brudberg)

    what a wonderful end of summer poem.. there is a sense of nostalgia here.. though it’s a stretch to fit it to the prompt maybe.. I really really enjoyed the sense of memory in your words.

    • johnallenrichter

      Hi Bjorn… I think you are probably correct, It is a stretch and I guess that it was too latent to get my meaning out… I hate poets that do that and yet I do it all the time! All four seasons are there, though. Not just summer. It was meant to say that I am from the four seasons of midwest soil… (without actually saying “I am from….” Like your own poem did.) Because I’m truly not “from” somewhere… I am somewhere…. I am the wolf spiders that crawl in my basement and scare the crap out of me… I am the moldy leaves that spent the winter huddled against my foundation because they were not raked, reticent to reveal my laziness in fall brought spiders in spring, I am that cold bottle of milk drunk by the winner of the Indianapolis 500…. All these things, exactly as you are the child who sat silently at your father’s dinner table…. You are not “from” the table.” I originally wanted to title this piece “I am from Nowhere” and retrospectively I think that would have been more in line with my intent… Thanks for the heads up…

  • Mary

    This shows where you are from by giving the reader a sense of summer activities and place. Where we live surely does influence who we are.

    • johnallenrichter

      Thanks Mary, as I explained to Bjorn though all four seasons were represented in the poem. The first verse is winter, and the last is fall. I must be slipping terribly…. I think readers focus on summer because it is one of the three seasons named in the poem… The only one not mentioned specifically was autumn. Which I think is interesting. I’ve always said that readers bring themselves into a poem, essay, or book. Amazing how that works… The writer merely jostles a few memories and images the reader has stored away in his or her own memories. Yourself, Gabriela and Bjorn immediately highlighted “summer” – which tells me that summer is probably something special to you three – in some way perhaps part of where you are from….

  • Janni Styles

    Really enjoyed your employment of the seasons to tell us where you are from. Very vivid! 🙂

  • Glenn Buttkus

    Yes, John, we are, in fact, from where & who we are; an audacious twist of the prompt pap, but wonderful poetics regardless, rife with lovely word smithing.

    • johnallenrichter

      Hi Glenn… Yes, I agree. My poem was too hidden. The clues? Indianapolis 500, the winner drinking milk, corn, robins, cardinals, maple trees, loons preparing their young for a fall journey, cold icy winters, and not least of all – Hoosierville. I am “from” Indiana. 🙂

  • C.C.

    That first stanza is killer….so descriptive! Glad that isn’t where you’re always from, but that the remaining stanzas bring spring and new life 😉

  • kanzensakura

    Now you have made me hungry for fresh corn on the cob! I can get a sense of where you are from – our memories are where we are from.

  • Gabriella

    What an evocative description of the end of summers and of our feelings when we reach that time in the season. Fortunately at the moment we are expecting rather than bidding summer farewell.

  • Linda Kruschke

    Nice picture of the changing seasons and what they mean for the activities we do and see. Peace, Linda

  • Rose Red

    I am from the Midwest U.S. also but you really brought it out more than I did. Nice 🙂

  • Suzanne

    There are some wonderful phrases here – the call of loons heralding the end of summer and icicles invading dreams. your words capture my imagination and take me to a land I have never been.

  • katiemiafrederick

    Yes.. i too am friend and from the seasons.. changing my creative powers from warm to extremely hot..;)

    And love the move out of the box.. here.. as literal is not my game..
    at least not anymore.. no matter Winter..Spring or Summer Fall…:)

  • Sherry Blue Sky

    This was an evocative read. As spring is having a little trouble getting started this year, it made me sad to think of geese flying away and another winter coming, I so barely survived this one, LOL………but that is good writing!!!! you convinced me they were.

  • Bryan Ens

    love the sense of joy in this…seeing your favourite driver drinking milk in the shade was my favourite part.

  • Prajakta

    I come out of this poem hungry and happy 🙂 Your take on the prompt through the seasons was very creative… Those memories do form us, don’t they?

  • Sumana Roy

    “icicles invade my dreams…”…my favorite line of this beautiful poem…

  • claudia

    hmmm. love me a picknick with corn roasted in butter… i’m getting hungry…

  • zongrik

    obviously, if you are a hoosier, and you didn’t talk about sneezing, you are lucky enough not to have allergies. when i think of seasons in Indiana, that’s the first thing i thing of. 🙂

    i like the spirits rising and the spider in the shoe. there’s a lot of alliteration going on there too.

    My Brain is a Cheap Gadget That Spins

  • vbholmes

    I was aware of the four seasons from the beginning and think those who were caught by summer are hungry for the warm, carefree days of the season. A lot of us are tired of cold, dreary days of a late Spring (although not looking forward to that spider in a shoe).

  • billgncs

    I like the rhyme scheme you used – this one worked for me.

  • Kathy Reed

    Thanks for sharing your reflections from your past…you are from Hoosierville!

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