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Eagle Hill Middle School
4645 Enders Road, Manlius, NY 13104
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(315) 692-1400
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Poetry about The Dust Bowl

Poetry about The Dust Bowl

Dustbowl Days
by Nicole S. Porter

Handkerchief to nose,
I cross these dusty streets
the wind whipping my gingham dress
around my legs.

My son carries his frosty bottle
of orange Nehi pop
while my daughter hugs her dolly
close to her chest.

We struggle, nomads fighting
the swirling whorls of sand
trying to keep the dust
out of our eyes.

When the wind settles again
I can see the barren lands
surrounding our tiny town -
Hopeful skeletons.

The farmers playing checkers
in front of the gas station
grumble about the price of corn
and their souls.

Porter, Nicole. Dustbowl Days. The Dust Bowl. 2003. Web. 2 December 2010.


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Leaving the Dust Bowl

By: Bob Bradshaw


Our house poked between the sand dunes
like a half-buried shrimp boat.
Sand leaned against the tops of fences.
We turned our plates on the dinner table
upside down
and covered the baby's crib with a wet sheet
at night to keep her
from breathing
Dust pneumonia was as common
as rash and bankrupt farms.
It's time to leave, Mother,
I said. We gave our land
to the bank. We gave our mule
to Jordon, who took on the burden
of trying to feed it.
Don't worry, Mother. California
is like a big green harbor
waiting for us. Mother nodded. We tied on
the beds and furniture and cooking pans
and threw in the kids
out of sentimental reasons
and pointed the car

Bradshaw, Bob. Leaving The Dust Bowl. Prairie Poetry. 2004. Web. 2 December 2010.






It took place back in the 1930s
And it was called the dust bowl days
Folks tried to scrape out a living
As dust storms left their world in a haze

There was a drought in Oklahoma
Dust storms took over their home
No food or jobs could be found
They had to pack up and begin to roam

They couldn’t seal their homes enough
The dust continued to sift through
Can you just imagine what it would be like
If this were to happen to you?

Some starved and froze in the winter
Folks lost new babies in the cold
It was a nightmarish time
Such sad stories later were told

It is almost impossible to imagine
It continues today to amaze
Thinking about what folks went through
In those terrible dust bowl days!




Dust Bowl

Dust! rolling, blinding, dirty, grinding,


Dust Storm

It swirls around, along the ground, then

In the air, it isn't fair!

It howls and groans,

It squeals and moans,

It gets in everywhere.

It finds each hole,

And every bowl,

And fills them all with glee.

Through doors,

On floors,

On every book and chair.

It stings!

It clings!

Then leaves behind


Broken Hill Dust

Dust everywhere.


Clean it up,

Wash every cup,

Polish floors,

Shine doors,

Clean up this cursed stuff.


That will do,

Just like new,


Look outside!

No, no, don't hide,

It's just

More dust!

Rolling, blinding, dirty, grinding,


Stella P. Bell









Pietricola - Social Studies