Doors to fall



Abandoned. Overlooking the river’s bend.

Doors open.  A promised memory lingers.

A line of dreams enter into a rusty rest.

Each one full of dreams, hopes and heart.

Dancing across the meadows, echoes.

Laughter and tears. Dust and dreams.


Doors open. Left there to rust. Engine dead.

Dreams of theirs fade like paint, rusting away.

You have to wonder about their flight.

North to hope, away from the dust bowl.

A generation moving away from desolation.

Driving the dream to fields northern.

Past the rivers Saskatchewan and White Fox.

Farmer’s cars edge the fields, memories live.


In the dustbowl years many people fled southern Saskatchewan looking for land that was alive and farmable.  They ended up north of the Saskatchewan River and along the White Fox. Further north than they ever dreamed and yet they found land that did grow crops, and communities sprung up to grow families.  Their dreams drew them north, another wave of pioneers driving wagons of steel powered by gas drinking horses.  You can see their remains, the farms, and you can see their fields still growing abundant crops.  My small tribute to them for Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. Come over won’t you?



  1. Mary said,

    September 25, 2013 at 1:06 am

    Shanyn, this is a moving tribute to those who moved north in order to fulfill their dreams…..and who stayed, finding what they needed!

    • shanyns said,

      September 25, 2013 at 11:47 pm

      Thanks Mary! It was neat to learn the history while we were there.

  2. brian miller said,

    September 25, 2013 at 1:08 am

    smiles…next to my great aunts house is an old MG that my (whatever he is)(her son) ran into the group and was rebuilding but never did…we used to play around it…run through it….it was missing so many parts…i promise we did not take too many of them…smiles…

    and interesting story behind your own car there…happy tuesday shanyn

    • shanyns said,

      September 25, 2013 at 11:48 pm

      I wonder how many sons have abandoned project cars at their parent’s places – including my husband. Ha ha. Thanks for coming over, and I’m glad you enjoyed this.

  3. Jeff said,

    September 25, 2013 at 1:38 am

    “Laughter and tears. Dust and dreams . .” all in a car once served well. Now gone with them abandoned it, pursuing fairy tales elsewhere.
    You have written a touching piece, most appealing to one whose ‘roads’ were once traveled, directed by such falling doors.
    I’m left reminiscing . . . and hopeful still.

    • shanyns said,

      September 25, 2013 at 11:49 pm

      Thanks for coming by Jeff, appreciate it. And I’m so pleased you enjoyed the poem.

  4. Truedesa said,

    September 25, 2013 at 1:58 am

    There is so much to like about this..but, I like theme rolled around dreams..

  5. claudia said,

    September 25, 2013 at 2:46 am

    it must be both, fascinating and strange as well to see those abundant houses and place..dust and dreams..we don’t really have this in germany so much – just because we don’t have that much space..

    • shanyns said,

      September 25, 2013 at 11:51 pm

      It is very strange to contemplate farms of many thousands of acres, some with hundreds of acres per field. Glad you enjoyed the poem Claudia. Come visit one day and I’ll show you some big farms!

  6. Ed P said,

    September 25, 2013 at 3:45 am

    laughter and tears. dust and dreams is also my favorite line. those cars and trucks rusting in the land is a reflect haunting passage of time. this is such a fine tribute.

    • shanyns said,

      September 25, 2013 at 11:56 pm

      Thanks Ed. There is a line of combines as well as other things. It is like their lives are lined up at the edge of the field. But the cars were coolest!

  7. cloudfactor5 said,

    September 25, 2013 at 4:31 am

    If those old cars could only talk, I bet they’d sure have a great tale or two to tell !! By the way that picture is particularly interesting to me as I haven’t seen suicide doors like those before !!

    • shanyns said,

      September 25, 2013 at 11:57 pm

      Aren’t those doors cool? I love them! 🙂 I wish the cars could talk. It would be amazing. Good thing we have poets to speak for them 😉

  8. grapeling said,

    September 25, 2013 at 7:03 am

    reminiscent of the Joads’ car washing away at the end of The Grapes of Wrath, Shan.

    • shanyns said,

      September 25, 2013 at 11:57 pm

      I never thought of that, yours is the second comment to reference the Grapes of Wrath. 🙂 Glad you enjoyed the poem.

  9. Glenn Buttkus said,

    September 25, 2013 at 4:21 pm

    A fine tribute poem, lots of nostalgia in old cars in fields, behind barns, with trees growing out of them. My favorite line, oddly enough, is in your explication stanza /pioneers driving wagons of steel powered by gas drinking horses/; nice job.

    • shanyns said,

      September 25, 2013 at 11:58 pm

      Thanks Glenn. I’m glad you liked that stanza, I thought it was so cool they were another wave of pioneers moving north instead of west.

  10. September 25, 2013 at 7:36 pm

    The stories of the dust bowl are so very stirring. This was so well told with such clear imagery. My father was born in Sask. I hadn’t thought of how that event affected all of the plains, up into Canada. I guess my understanding was based on “The Grapes of Wrath.”

    • shanyns said,

      September 25, 2013 at 11:59 pm

      What part of Saskatchewan? (so curious!) The ‘dirty thirties’ dried up most of the prairies, including ours especially in southern Alberta and Saskatchewan. 🙂

  11. September 25, 2013 at 8:02 pm

    Hi.. those old wrecked cars are wonderful motives to ponder on the history of people.. and those leaving lands to find their fortune elsewhere is very moving… made me think of Grapes of Wrath …

    • shanyns said,

      September 26, 2013 at 12:00 am

      Thanks Bjorn. It is moving, and it makes you wonder if there is something in our genetic code that has some of us always ready to wander…hmmm Thanks for coming by. Glad you liked it.

  12. Grace said,

    September 25, 2013 at 10:48 pm

    I appreciate the historical background ~ Lovely tribute to those brave pioneers ~

  13. October 2, 2013 at 1:04 am

    I can feel the dry dust lingering on every line. Enjoyed this very much!

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