The ornaments on the southern willows
Where we can have a picnic
Get a souvenir of skin and blood
As we have a Barbecue with burnt flesh to eat
The scent like nothin’ anything you will experience
That’s what we do in the South
We don’t care about those liberals from the North
After we can drink some ‘shine
Maybe go to the other side of town
And get more ornaments for the trees
Like Christmas in the August night
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I’m kind of a stickler for this, but you should check your spelling. A misspelled word is distracting and shows a lack of attention to detail…something that an editor would reject your poem for. That being said, I enjoyed this one…seems like you’re sitting on your back porch and letting your thoughts just flow