vanishing, apparition
burning upon the birth
in a final scene: breathing to
dying; and now nothing is visible,
vines twist, a stain in the moon-eye,
crisscrossing your babies and opus tragedies;
it’s the brute, it’s the face
of windows eyed with soot
gaze pure ash; there is nothing
more than flesh and bone
filling with dust around the
trees;
identical to working hands
in dirty dust
it will be home upon the fields,
and I was only
in the messianic eyes
twitching,
as air is eaten from me
as silhouettes dance, hands dressing
in red; I close my eyes somehow still breathing
as cold-blooded a miracle
years on.
© 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Written for the dVerse prompt: Write a poem incorporating setting (specific or descriptive).
I wrote this about the Dust Bowl, while listening to Straightline by Pete Bernard. I always associated that song with the Dust Bowl especially with some of the lyrics.
37 responses to “It will be home upon the fields.”
There’s anguish in the words, and even though it’s not made clear why the home in the fields should inspire it, there’s death there.
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The home in the fields inspired anguish, in my poem, as either the house with dust and soot under the windows or the farming practices (topsoil erosion being a cause) that led to soil turning to dust that would eventually be blown in the wind.
It just stays in my mind, the tragedy of it. So much death.
Thank you for your feedback.
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I don’t know why, but the phrases, “it’s the brute, it’s the face” struck me as especially menacing, and laid down the pain inherent to the setting most vividly for me.Beautifully written, Lucy.
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Thank you so very much, Dora!
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I could hear Woody Guthrie crooning in the background. You had me at “it’s the brute, it’s the face, of windows eyed with soot, gaze pure ash.” and” and I was only in the messianic eyes, twitching.”
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Thank you, Glenn.
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Your note about the Dust Bowl adds even more weight to this. Many suffered.
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Indeed. It’s such a horrible event. Many suffered, many died. It’s hard to think about.
Thank you for your feedback!
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Lucy, this piece is stunning.
xoxo
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Thank you so very much, G! ❤️❤️
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My pleasure hon 🌹
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💕
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A powerful scene you have painted for us Lucy. This part:
it’s the brute, it’s the face
of windows eyed with soot
gaze pure ash; there is nothing
more than flesh and bone
filling with dust around the
trees;
Reminds me of the time, a volcano erupted and all the grains of sands was everywhere. It was just dust – dust everywhere, from the sky to the city, to inside our homes. Thanks so much for writing to the prompt. Hope all is well.
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Thank you so, so much Grace! I love your feedback. I must also thank you for the intriguing, engaging prompt at dVerse. I just had to write to it, and the Dust Bowl kept swirling throughout my mind.
I hope all is well with you too! Stay healthy and safe. ❤️
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I close my eyes somehow still breathing
as cold-blooded a miracle
years on
How memories can still affect us even years after. This the beauty of being there for the first time where all are new to us. Beautiful write Lucy!
Hank
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Thank you so much, Hank!
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Your ending is wonderfully full of imagery…
as air is eaten from me
as silhouettes dance, hands dressing
in red; I close my eyes somehow still breathing
as cold-blooded a miracle
years on.
A we all will be at home as we rest in the dust of the field!
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Thank you.
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You are welcome!
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I have read lots about that time in our history. Dorothea Lange’s photographs are among the best depicting the utter desolation of that place and time. Your poem brings it all back. Well done.
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Thank you greatly, Helen!
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I had visions of some kind of Dust Bowl scenery before I read your explanation, Lucy. I love the mystery and intrigue in the title line ‘it will be home upon the fields.’ It made me think of Terrence Malik’s ‘Badlands.’ Just so atmospheric and wonderfully done!
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Thank you very much, Ingrid! ❤
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I felt the pain and despair in this poem, Lucy, at ‘working hands’ having to live in such a god-forsaken place, where ‘nothing is visible’. These lines are so powerful:
‘it’s the brute, it’s the face
of windows eyed with soot
gaze pure ash; there is nothing
more than flesh and bone
filling with dust around the
trees’,
as is the phrase ‘air is eaten from me’.
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Thank you so much, Kim!
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I am way too high — come on over and fly with me! I will be back earthbound tomorrow to tread.,!
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Ground control to major Rob, hahaha. 😁
I read your lovely poem and will comment on it sometime today. I honestly wouldn’t want to be earthbound after reading it–a certain freedom in flight expressed that makes a person feel truly alive.
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I am back, just as I threatened Lucy… 😉 oh, dark and unsettling piece — but so damned engaging. It brought to mind war, and that powerfully destructive essence. “ there is nothing more than flesh and bone filling with dust around the trees;” Ironically, I also hot a sense of “planting” from your piece. A real Yin Yang experience, that I thoroughly enjoyed. I don’t know if you paint, but if you did, I know I would love the abstract nature of your work
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It was about time you made good on that threat! 😄 I was waiting. Thank you so much for the encouraging comment. I am so glad you enjoyed reading my piece, and I wish I could paint. I’ve dabbled lightly into sketching but when I have more free time soon, I’d like to see what I can pursue with that and if I can create something sustainable as art. I could only wish to create an art piece that is abstract as half of my poems seem. Thank you for your kind words and support, as always! It truly means a lot to me. I hope all is well with you. ❤
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Dear Lucy, this was exquisite. Every word made me think and realize how much we hear or read words and do not allow them to resonate with us. Reading your poem I was transported to a time of destruction. I stood there in the starkness and breathed the ash. Wow! Amazing Lucy!
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Aww, thank you for your kind words Christine!
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You’re welcome ☺️
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❤ ❤
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Enjoyed it thoroughly and after reading the background I read it again thinking that it’s time for me to read Grapes of Wraith again… especially loved:
“as air is eaten from me”… it really caught the desperation of the time and place for me.
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Thank you so very much, Bjorn!
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Blown away Lucy… Truly amazing piece… You are flying ❤️🌹
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Aww, thank you. ❤️💗
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