2nd Annual
2015 "Poetry for Change"
Young Adult (12-17) Alexa Campbell Laurel County “Dreaming of Nightmares” In the dark of her room, She lay a gentle narrow path, Her dreams calm and sweet, Forgiving her for the last nightmare. In her slumber there was a man, A man with quite the cheery disposition, He stood at the top of the hill, Where his smile seemed to fade away. Once she reached the top of the hill, Her look of wonder turned devastation, She saw there that the man was not standing, But hanging. She screamed, though no one could hear her, Lying on the ground squirming, Then at a moment she realized no one cared, There her dream turned nightmare. Benjamin King Rockcastle County “The Archer” The crowd grew silent as night when the archer took his place on the line. He drew a dark blue arrow from his quiver as he knocked it into his cherry red bow. The archer held his breath silently as he drew his bow back with rough Calloused fingers. Aiming at the target focused he thought about all of his training. He took a breath and released. Alexis Long Laurel County “My Teacher” “Dreams are only real if you make them”, A friend had once told me; Before she slipped her way out, If only I went with her. Only possession I had of her, A memory stored in a tiny, glass bottle; Brittle and Soft. What will become of her in Heaven? She didn’t know that the world had changed, Drugs. Sex. Violence. Money.
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All the Love, Happiness, and Peace; Slipped away just as she did. Our dreams turned into nightmares, Monsters under our beds and hidden in closets; Have turned into our worst fears. Where they crept inside of our heads. The ugly truth remains, Beside her bottle of memories, And what was left of my innocence, At least, she taught me well. She taught me to be gentle. Kindness, Patience, and Bliss. A key in which to get by in this world; But only if you succeed. Many have failed; many have passed. Either take the world by the horns, Or let the Bull run you down. We all have a choice. I sat under the sycamore, Smothered by the ash and the sun, Holding onto her bottle, As if I were hugging her. I pop open the cork, Dig into the Earth with fragile hands As I empty the rose seeds into the loose soil, ‘To the rarest in this Ever-changing world.’ Taylor Maggard Jackson County “Change the World” All around us there are so many Who have few friends, if they have any Because of the different way they look or act We give harsh judgment and turn our back Just think of how many things could change If all our priorities should be rearranged Putting the cares of others before our own And helping those who are all alone So to what people think of you, don’t give a care For the ones who are different make friends beyond compare Just give a smile and a few cheerful words And you could somehow change the world. Sarah Quinlan Whitley County “When the Peace Bells Ring” In our world of darkness Who will be the one to shine a light?
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When our people are blind Who will be the one to heal them? When the peace bells ring And we join together That is when we will Truly be free, and the light will come We will stand hand in hand With hope in our hearts again When the peace bells ring When we lay down pour weapons Whether they be guns or words, That is when our safety will return Smiles will be brighter Burdens will be lighter. When our fighting stops Our wounds can be bandaged When we join again as one nation, That is when the peace bells will ring. Lacy Searles Whitley County “For Anyone Who’s Willing to Listen...” It’s so hard, Knowing one of our boys left... That he needed out so bad... I don’t like seeing the ones I love in pain, I don’t know what to do. So I feel like something’s missing, And I believe it went with him... We might not know the whole story, But we do love him more than anything... So, for anyone who’s willing to listen, I’ll not put my last ones in pain. I’ll keep them close, And him closer. I know it wasn’t my fault, But it feels like it is. I feel like I should have done something, But I don’t know what... So, again, For anyone who’s willing to listen, Please tell me what’s wrong. I’ll listen just as close, I’ll try my best. I’ll remember my sisters, The ones we lost this day.... And I’ll keep listening to them, I’ll listen for the pain, Like I should have done with him, With them... And I hope others do the same... I can’t go through their pain, Not again...
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Loki Searles Whitley County “At 17 and 7 Months” When I awaken in that pale morning, When my mouth is dry, And my neck is bent, I peel the darkness from each eye, And stretch my heart’s contempt. When I raise and hear my joints set in, When my kneecaps crack, And my spine is popped, I hear lost whispers whisper back, And leave my heart unlocked. When I feel that lust for the coffee, When it fills my lungs, And it guides my nose, I know it thaws my frigid tongue, And drowns that old, mean crow. Poppy Spradlin Laurel County “Nighttime” The stars are lightning bugs glowing in the sky They twinkle and shine, putting on a show for all to see Dazzling! Swimming around to create shapes and puzzles They occupy the sky like flowers occupy a meadow “Oh wonderful stars, how I wish you never left the sky!” The moon is a security guard watching over the world It shines across the yard creating dark shadows Gleaming! Luminating light so we can find our way around It is like a volleyball rolling across the sky “Dear moon, you brighten my nights so greatly!” The wind is a cold glass of lemonade on a hot summer day It rustles the dark leaves on the trees Refreshing! Kissing our warm cheeks as we step into the night It is like a teacher giving us a free day, making everyone smile “Oh regenerating wind, blow on until the sun awakens the sky!” The clouds are shields defending the bright stars They scurry across the sky as the wind blows them on Infatuating! Hiding the silvery moon from our wondering gaze They are like a giant blanket covering the sky “Dear clouds, I love the beautiful shapes you make!”
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Adult (18+) Pearl E. Anderson Laurel County “Becoming” The years have rolled by Hours into days into months Continuous rotation from soft sunrises To¬ brilliant sunsets on the western horizon On and on year upon year Until this tall, slender, white female Has become an elder, a senior citizen Or, an old woman; I prefer an elder lady— With pace slowing from a cheetah to a kitty cat But, with mental acuity sharp as a razor; Though the thought processes have changed From policy and procedure to poetry and prose – “The purposes is to identify” becomes ‘Love likened to soft velvet” I’m glad God stopped me from working and said, “This is what I want you to do now.” Oh, that my tongue was that of a skilled writer* Or, that my hand could express what my heart thinks, How blessed to look at life retrospectively And see life’s puzzle gradually coming in place But, still have the sweet wonderment Of what is yet to be while inhaling the present; An elder lady with lifetime developed refinement Combined with a sense of contentment It is better to be settled in later years Than the flitting from hither to the yon Of youth scrambling for meaningfulness Though that is not true for all youth or all elders; Searching in crooks and crannies Wiping away the cobwebs of life Looking for what may have been or Ridding the what was and won’t go away Rainbows, sunrises, sunsets, gentle rains Add visual flavor and meaning As the tall and slender becomes bent And hair turns to silver— Children rise up to call mother’s blessed; Sunrise to sunset day upon day Continually rotating in God’s beauty From dawn to dusk until eternity
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Hailey Bech Whitley County “Dream” Always dream above a trickle Small ones never thunder Stand,look,shiver and fly Into the skin you want Wander about wild grass Tear through the roof Michael Bloomingburg Whitley County “In These Hills” There are ice sculptures in these hills, The kind of complexities that make the young feel old. Cigarettes and coal paint the colors of my childhood like white Lines bleeding down the highway. In these hills, the heart is an eastern redbud With too few branches to measure. In these hills, the mountains are the worn change of generations. The blue hewn of broken promises and soot stained faces Present no barrier to the cries of “Holy, Holy” And the echoes of entanglements worse than death. In these hills, the hard hats and hopeless reveries ease down The back roads of the dispirited soul. The whip-poor-wills warn of fates worse than Calloused hands and cornered heartaches. In these hills, the fallen leaves bury the backdrop Of bluegrass and bourbon—I am home. Ryan Cornett Clay County “The Call” Would you call me brother Or cousin or son? Is our blood so dissimilar That we cannot coexist in Living, breathing Harmony? From communities to inhabitants Of the same zip code, Neighbors to acquaintances To strangers we go. We to I. Us to me, mine, my. This is not yet a wasteland, But a wasted land. Not yet a cacophony, Although chaos rings loud. For there is a voice on the horizon,
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Distant, soft, suffering. Music descending to the ears of the hopeful, Noise soaring to the ears of the beast. It is a call, A call to me, you, us: Wake up from this reality And dream again. Jean Marie Durham Laurel County “A Mother’s Love” My life has been blessed in so many ways; Even during the down times, which I have experienced on so many days. Since the beginning of my life, you laid a foundation where I could stand firm; Even if life’s experiences were merely a lesson to be learned. No matter what card in life I was dealt by fate; I could always count on your moral support without any wait. Your unconditional Love that I was given throughout all of my years; Has given me the strength to overcome all of my fears. I can not imagine who I would have become, if not for you; For your love has always remained forever strong and true.. Being a Mother is the toughest job that life may bring; And for a job well done, I feel you should wear the crown fit for a Queen! BJ Edwards Whitley County “Poetry Power” Words Written, recited, rapped, sung Chisel and chip away the granite Of how things have always been done. Change, An ever present need Can come about through words we heed. Michael looked in the mirror And declared it started with him. John imagined all the people And wrote his hymn. Martin spoke and millions Were inspired to overcome. Maya, dear Maya Her words move everyone. And ah, the Psalmist of old In poetic and sonorous tone Gives sweet blessing to every soul. Humans learned to speak words And poetry began A powerful tool To effect change in man.
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JW Erwin Rockcastle County “Dream Window” I sit silent in a hollow room, Overpopulated by zealous thoughts. It makes me feel crowded, Like I need to run and hide, but How can I run from room with no doors? Just a window. My window of hope.. No running, just looking, At what could be. There’s only one way out; By lifting the window A little more every day. For, one day I will no longer be looking Through the glass of dreams, But at the dreams themselves. Then all that will be left to do Will be to jump into them. Everyday seems to be a struggle When I try to lift the window. So, I’ll keep my head up And my eyes forward. For ahead my dreams are realities. Jackie Gilpin Laurel County “The Hope for the World” Crime in all the world abounds. In every nation we hear the sounds Of people suffering everywhere. Many feeling like no one cares. Broken homes continually increases Leaving hearts broken in pieces. Alcohol, drugs, and lust lead to things Like abuse and trafficking. Such suffering it brings. There is a change that needs to be. What is that change? Can we see? There was a day I needed hope; With my life I could not cope. I could not even change myself. I knew I needed someone else. My bitter heart was lonely inside; From my fearful fate I could no longer hide.
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Then one day I met someone Who gave me hope where there was none. He fixed the things I could not change. He gave me healing where there with pain. He took my bitterness and fear. His loving whispers I could now hear. My heart was filled with joy and love And peace that only comes from above. The man I met was Jesus Christ. He took my life and made it right. He died for me to set me free, But He did not do it just for me. He did it for every boy and girl. He did it because He loved the world. He was tortured and finally died on the cross. He took the punishment so no one would be lost. So eternally they could be in heaven with Him, If they would only forsake their sin. He would heal all of their hurt and pain. He would give them sunshine for the rain. He would take their anger and violence, If they would just turn to him and repent. So in my conclusion I hope that you see Jesus is the answer for the change that we need. Lilian Helton Laurel County “Legacy Long Forgotten” The difference between then and now Is separate as night and day They were habitual and long established We always try to find a new way They had respect, earned what they had No wasted resources or squandered time We expect things at the click of a mouse, feel we’re owed No punishment with the crime Life was pleasantly simple; take one thing, do it right! Instead of: How much and how fast can I get done today? Family time was a must and not forced; we loved each other! Now we’re too selfish to find a way With the Great Depression and two World Wars Education seemed just a dream Today it’s expected and we focus on being diverse Wasn’t accepting everyone’s hope of work, love, and success the same thing? Back then they wanted to be the heroes When the only phone was at home and mail was snail slow They wanted a better life for everyone
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For an opportunity to grow They worked to build a legacy To let choice and freedom ring We should continue to make that meaningful! Make their struggle worthwhile and mean something! In our present age of entitlement and rush Maybe we should slow down and think? About their legacy long forgotten and abused And renew it before we blink We should remember there’s a difference Between the traditional and the now Not one of outdated and slow But back to basics of who taught us how Then from there, we should go Time will keep ticking and new days will dawn With possibilities beyond what we see Don’t let their work be in vain; let them know they achieved their goal Through his legacy, Grandpa was a hero to me. Jennifer Marsh Laurel County “1968” Upheaval, Innocence Social turbulence, Children laughing Vietnam, My neighborhood Army fatigues, Sears cotton dresses with knee socks The smell of Napalm, The smell of crayons The taste of alcohol and drugs, The taste of Dairy Queen “Incoming!”, “Ally ally in come free!” The Armies of the Night by Norman Mailer, Tikki Tikki Tembo by Arlene Mosel “Helter Skelter” by The Beatles, “Yummy Yummy Yummy” by the Ohio Express CBS evening news with Walter Cronkite, Captain Kangaroo Closer to walking on the moon,
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Closer to walking to school by myself Assassinations, Childhood friendships Protests in the streets, Kickball in the streets LBJ, then Nixon, Kindergarten, then 1st grade A country sees itself Becomes cynical, I see the world And become me. Jeremy McQueen Pulaski County “Syllabic Revolution� If words were prevailing regal decrees, Each syllable dripping with casual ease, Demanding their transcendent will be done, Perhaps changes would arise with the sun; Busy peasants might be proudly living, Rightly cherished for arduous giving, Blithely yielding when society calls, Possibly secure from lower class falls. If stanzas were ballots sanguinely cast, Thoughtful critiques for a deficient past, Electing fairness with model intent, Conceivably choosing deserved ascent; Gender disparity could disappear, Archaic ignorance berthed from male fear, Allowing mutual respect to reign, Expectably cleansing a worldwide stain. If novels were epic sacrifices, Porous pages as printed devices, Begging humanity for equal claim, Feasibly adjusting an errant frame; Pigment dare not negatively hinder, Diverse fruits anxiously ripe to render, Eagerly engaging with fixed fervor, Finally unchained as devout server. If lyrics were harmonious protests, Compilations sang as lasting bequests, Imploring courts for orientations, Plausibly inducting all creations; Legal unions not opposed with blind hate, Public hearts shedding their malicious state, Reviving global community hope,
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Likely widening our restricted scope. If syllables were only spoken sounds, Mere fragments of influential compounds, Unwritten to encourage the masses, Maybe time for revolution passes; Words fortunately invoke high spirits, Soaked in emotions that sustain merits, Corralling the populous to act now, Certainly defining what we’ll allow. Layne Partin Whitley County “Conclusion” If not for this, then surely that Would be within my reach Rising and falling, calling As oceans do a beach If not for that, then surely this Would be within my grasp Coming and going, knowing That it could never last If not for these, then surely those Wouldn’t be too much to ask Tossing and turning, burning Until there’s nothing left but ash If not for those, then surely these Would be my final reward Laughing and crying, dying By the occasional sword If not for failure, surely success Will be the end result Heaven and earth, a church And all my words a cult Brandon Patterson Laurel “Conscious, Conscious” Flames, flames tossed in an endless nothingness Three daughters chase up a summer hill, dauntlessly teasing the Earth, Trees move, shadow dancers in the stirring forest To begin is an impossibility, you cannot take back an end times birth. Life, life without a consciousness will flourish Three daughters will perish, another grain of soil for the Earth, You cannot tell a river not to flow, that is all it knows to do A creature aware will fight for the sum it is worth. Light, light filling the great expanses of the wild
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To go quietly, in the stillest of nights on Earth, The greatest of rare flowers will bloom, growing among a forgotten home An end to the conscious creatures is to be met with immeasurable mirth. John Radecki Laurel County “Versifiers” Listen.....A poet’s poem Rhythm and rhyme Poet’s mind meanders like mystic wanderers Molding verses from realties and dreams Words penned, simple or complex Words expressing ideas and ideals Words shiftless as grains of sand Explainers of their inner thoughts From unceasing restlessness to real time They write and recite for all Even natures call Yet, they pen Of love and lust Of death and mourners Oh! A poet’s mind wanders How they spin wanting words So clear, so pure That all Seeks to want and wish Dubious dreams Their hearts Must be of natures kind For they conceive in solitude and intrigue Repertoire of wordy fiddlesticks Pen what they desire and phantom The beginning.....Life Never ending experiences The end.....Death This, their written watchword Word a versifiers sword So be it Planting perceptions Tending expressions Harvesting words. As if forbidden fruit, From their poet’s tree. Edward Rhodes Laurel County “Pets” In our lives we have a lot of change Some we don’t understand just yet But the one thing that is certain All have that one very special pet. For me her name was Shadow Who gave me both her friendship and love
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And now that she has passed away I know that she is in heaven above But even with her passing There will be an emptiness in my heart A loss that will always be there Like her love from the very start. Yet you try to find that one thing That in time will help to ease your pain And somehow down the road You find both comfort and gain. So to change the way how you feel Is sometimes like taking a bet For you try to find that one thing You find it in a new pet. For they can’t take away the memories The special one you lost But they will still give you their love No matter what the cost You will still feel the sadness For the one that passed away But somehow the newer pet Brings a different kind of happiness each day So find that very special one just as I did And make yourself a new friend For the love and friendship you share with them Will be there with the both of you till the very end. Rest in Peace Shadow I miss you a lot. Phyllis Robinson Clay County “The New Lynching” We have come a long way - first Black President, truly African American Not descended from slaves Ancestral line unstained by forced congress with a white slave owner We think we are changed in beautiful America Surely a long way from 1939 and Billie Holliday singing “Strange Fruit” Song of the Century prompted by a postcard Postcard of a Marion, Indiana lynching of two Black men Strange Fruit echoed in an Oklahoma frat song Hanging them high by the neck, from Southern and not so Southern trees Smell the honeysuckle in the woods as the mob sweats and strains Difficult to hang a struggling Black man Or If he dared to run His woman and children became the fruit Then the smell Oh, the smell of teaching the lesson Until the slow carrion crows came
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Plucking the bulging eyes first Simpler, cleaner to shoot them Safer for the shooter Especially if the fruit is unarmed and young Brown, black bodies lying in the street - the new strange fruit Shooting unarmed African Americans, Latinos is the new lynching Roxanna Robinson Laurel County “The Reach of Your Hand” Chains of compassion, chains of truth. I’m longing in life, to know what to do. I feel like I’m running, from here to there. I wonder, when will anyone ever truly care? About the choices in life that we must make. How much love do we give? How much sorrow must we take? We’re not thankful enough for the things that we’ve got, We worry over needless things and what not. We can’t always see the beauty, because of all the pain, We go along in life worrying about what’s to gain. Life isn’t measured by the treasure’s we have here on earth, We need to quit worrying about how much we are worth. We should live every day as if it was our last, Give thanks for our blessings,and quit living in the past. Love while you can, and hold everyone close, Because life is but a vapor, and we never really know. When we will take our very last step, When we will breath our very last breathe. I fall on my knee’s with a humbled heart, And I pray Dear God, please let me start. Living my life so that it’s pleasing to you, Giving thanks for all I have and all that You do. Help me to remember that when life gets to hard to stand, I just need to fall on my knees, reach out, and take your awaiting hand. Catherine Ruby Laurel County “Father” When I was young my father came And drew the world for me. His paints were words, his colors, love, And all the joys I’d see Of make-believe and fairy-land, And laughter ringing free; The fantasies of kings and queens Made ‘specially for me. But as I grew, somehow he changed-Or maybe it was me; The joy and laughter faded now And all his faults I’d see Of weakness, fear, and failure, too--
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His strengths had ceased to be, And in their place, somehow, I drew A sketch of frailty. The world, for me a transient place Of hopes destroyed by pain, Would puzzle that same father who Had smiled away the rain. But somehow, over time, he knew, Those childhood dreams he wove, Would come again to set me free, Reveal that light of love; I’d revel in the joy I’d see-The laughter that could be. And all because my father drew . . . A fairy world for me. Arlo Sharp Whitley County “When Three Shall Walk” When three shall walk across the midnight sky, And all the world abed in dreams doth lie, ‘Twill be the night the race of man shall die. In blood and bile, in brain and battered bone, By horrors rarely seen, by fears unknown, Forever shall man’s sons his ways disown. The dog no longer shall be man’s best friend; His fangs shall rip man’s flesh; his nails shall rend. Their curse shall wicked elder demons send. In chill of winter shall that dread doom fall, As men upon their powerless gods shall call, A darkling shroud of death shall drape o’er all. Don Smith Laurel County “My Appalachian Girl” She comes from the meandering waters of Straight Creek in Harlan County, A young lady whose feet ran between the weathered worn stones of the stream. At the base of Pine Mountain’s evergreens, at the feet of her grandmother she learn the ancient craft of using her hands to design images of her visions, and she developed her determination to overcome all challengers to come, my Appalachian girl. Life has been like a ride over the mountain for her, Twisting along the broken surface as she leaves her home, Hugging the road as she climbs to face the steep crevice below, Undaunted by voices of doubt and her own inner fear, She receives the reward of knowledge that speaks of many to come, My Appalachian Girl. Forsaking the isolation of the primitive barriers of the land,
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She traversed the narrow paths to the center of the bluegrass, Laying new roots and sharing her dreams with the Unwanted young, accepting the fresh summons to unfold her inner strength, creating unique dexterities to subdue unwanted reproach, My Appalachian Girl. Through the unwanted sorrows casted upon her she has Endured, establishing a wealth of supportive relationships to enable the downcast, feeling their need while defeating Overwhelming thrusts directed toward her, she glides along new roads with hope for a continued expansion of her dreams, My Appalachian Girl. Brandon Thorpe Laurel County “Little Lion, Wait With Me” She had outlived the deadline the doctors gave her, But she could feel it in her bones waiting Like a lion to take it’s chance. Her son came around more, around noon and sat on Her bedside looking at photos and telling stories. The nurse warned her to keep her pills hidden. If they kept disappearing she would lose them. So she did, under her pillow. Her son stopped coming over and she looked at Photos alone now, waiting for the end. She put the pills back and called him, Cringing while she hinted Her medicine was back. And he came back, every day. She forgave him And they waited together. Henry Wilhoit Laurel County “Life as I see it” My life’s had it’s changes, As I’ve lived out my years. I’ve has lots of happiness With a fair share of tears. My father protected me. Mom comforted me with song. They raised me to do What was right, not wrong. I went through my school years. I endured all the strife, So I could gain knowledge, That would help me in life.. Then I met a young lady, Who brought me such joy. Who’s wisdom and love,
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Made a made of a boy. I found joy in marriage. Then a gift from God above, Brought to our lives children, Who we taught how to love. We taught them to live right, In sunshine and rain. Through good times and bad. Through laughter and pain. And even through all of our Trouble and strife. One thing is for certain. We’ve lived a good life. We spent it with those, That we cherished and taught So just for this reason, I offer this thought. For those starting out, As once did I. Be aware; you will laugh. At times you will cry. Show love to your neighbor, As God the Father loves you. To your family and friends, You should always stay true.
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Poetry Contest Participants: Adult:
Young Adult:
Pearl E. Anderson Hailey Beck Michael Bloomingburg Ryan Cornett Jean Marie Durham BJ Edwards JW Erwin Jackie Gilpin Lilian Helton Jennifer Marsh Jeremy McQueen Layne Partin Brandon Patterson John Radecki Edward Rhodes Phyllis Robinson Roxanna Robinson Catherine Ruby Don Smith Arlo Sharp Brandon Thorpe Henry Wilhoit
Alexa Campbell Benjamin King Alexis Long Taylor Maggard Sarah Quinlan Lacy Searles Loki Searles Poppy Spradlin