By Kelsey Block

Darting through
The crooked rows,
Coarse leaves slapping
My face and arms.

The ground is crusty, uneven,
Pulled up by wiry roots
Clawing deeper into the earth.

I am laughing
But the sound evaporates
Quicker than water,
Soaked up by green.

Daddy’s warning:
Don’t play in corn fields!
But I won’t lose myself –
I am only a few rows in

Staring out
Tucked behind spindly stalks,
Almost invisible,
But I am there.

Author’s note: I wrote this poem for my book arts class taught by Professor Anita Skeen. The assignment was to create a tunnel book, a task I happily admit I am not competent at. So, proud of at least one part of the project, I decided to post another poem on Cows2College. If poetry’s not your thing, no worries, this is not about to become a poetry blog. I just happen to be doing a lot of poetry-related things lately. Hope you like it.


Haiku Hike with the Poetry Center

Hi everyone! So, I went on a haiku hike around campus with the RCAH Center for Poetry today, and decided to publish a few of the haiku I wrote on here in honor of National Poetry Month. Enjoy, and write some of your own! If you want, send them to me and I’ll put them up here!!

The thawing ground pulls
hungrily at my sneakers.
Ready for warmth.

Water rushes steady,
Excited to finally be free,
Tossing itself downstream.

Waves crease and bend,
Dimpling before hurling
Over harsh rock cliffs.

Thin twigs litter the ground – 
Young growth snapped off too early
During the harsh winter.