Tag Archives: the great depression

Notes on the depression: Parts One and Two


As you may or may not have read, my first post on this blog was that of a poem relating to children living during the great depression. I find this topic exceedingly profound to write about, and there have been other absolutely perfect examples out there (A death in the family by James Agee-plus the gorgeous musical adaptation “Knoxville summer of 1915″ -I advise you look it up if you haven’t already). Recently I wrote an addendum to that poem. They are quite strange, and probably need a good deal more editing, but hopefully you”l like them as much as I do.

An added commentary: the word” petrichor” was not coined until the mid 60’s, so that part of my poem is  historically incorrect…


Notes on the depression, Part One

How about mother wears her coat

as it drapes around her head, and

you wonder why this rain

can’t stop falling through the cracks of the sidewalk

and can’t mother let the rain become

older than her wrinkles

that are as smooth

as cream

so it melts dead

like frosted snow in the winter before the rain starts

and you just learned that the

smell of rain is plants making

oil of petrichor-

yes you get a whiff of petrichor and know it’s going to rain

and you say that to your freind and she’s so impressed,

oh how EVER know that sal, how EVER did-

but mother with her wrinkles

she doesn’t know the word for the smell of rain

or she doesn’t have and umbrella,

or just a coat or a piece of newspaper?

Read the rest of this entry


Renting starvation-1932


Hello. I am a young poet and short story writer in middle school, and I am very  eager to share my vast collection of poems, stories, thoughts, and jokes. In short, I hope they will inspire you to write your own poetry, read, sip a cup of tea, or just relax. Okay, here we go!

Renting starvation-1932

the children

like the old people

they sit on rocking chairs

on the porches

Porgy stole pa’s pipe

she doesn’t light it

she pretends to light it

and it looks funny in her

mouth. She calls me Watkins

and we solve cases-

we are hungry I say how

can we play there should be

dreamers not solvers come! Porgy

what are you waiting for but she

just looks at me, her innocent eyes

asking me a question.

Copyright 2012 Golden Star Poetry