Michael Walker

Veteran Poet - 1,046 Points (July 15,1990 / Omaha)

Omaha - Poem by Michael Walker

You are the city of my childhood,
Where the Spirit moved over the water
To give to my spirit the highest good:
The Blood of the Lamb sent to the slaughter.

I recall your cozy neighborhoods
Beneath white clouds amidst the greenery,
Enraptured with the hills, the bluffs, the woods -
O, serenity of such scenery!

Alas! Misery of the Missouri
And the Platte Rivers flows into your streets,
So in your bricks we smell the potpourri
Of America - peat, wheat, and meats.

Omaha is America's heart,
And from her bosom I will never part.

Topic(s) of this poem: america

Poet's Notes about The Poem

I was baptized in Omaha, and spent every summer there.

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, July 20, 2014

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