Where I’m From

Earlier this year, we asked patrons to write poems about where they’re from, in the style of Kentucky 2015-16 Poet Laureate George Ella Lyon’s Where I’m From. The poems are a part of a statewide project sponsored by the Kentucky Arts Council. Poems were collected from many counties across the state, and they are being posted online this week in honor of Kentucky Writers’ Day on April 25.

The Arts Council will continue posting as many submissions as they can throughout the end of the year. Poems can be submitted throughout Dec. 1, 2016 to Muhlenberg County Public Libraries or directly to the Arts Council. More information, as well as several of the submissions from Muhlenberg and other participating counties, can be found on the Arts Council website.

Muhlenberg County’s submissions can be read below. Watch for posters in our library branches featuring the poems and authors!

 

Adrienne Fauver
Moorman, KY
Muhlenberg County

Where I’m From

I am from striving to touch the clouds
swinging high, never reaching
but I still try

I am from running wild with my imagination
made up games, new personalities
laughing together, my cousins and me

I am from baking brownies, sweeping floors
setting tables and cleaning up
helping my mom when she needs me

I am from being a big sister
wagon rides, a big hill, a swing set on a sunny day
Band-Aids on scraped knees

I am from old TV shows
snuggled in bed
my pillow is fluffed and my covers are warm

I am from bus rides with my best friend
a shared seat and shared laughs
our creativity runs free

I am from long drives to Grandmama’s house
telling stories and sharing about our days
all the way up the gravel driveway

I am from the legacy of my grandmothers
great and greater
I am an artist in the making

 

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Kenya Stump
Central City, KY
Muhlenberg County

Where I’m From

I am from Mason jars,
sweet tea and blackberry thorns.
I am from coal dust off the conveyor,
putting food on the table and driving us mad.
I am from the apple tree in the backyard,
holding us up and shading our hearts.

I am from canning in the kitchen,
katydids and fireflies too.
I am from snuff chew’in,
gourd grow’in, and wrestl’in on the TV.

I am from the deer in the tree,
shotguns and Leave Us Alone!
I am from four wheel drive,
Stripper Pits and High Walls too.

I am from fried pies on Sunday,
Sit Up Straight! and fear of God.
I am from chicken and dumplings,
thumb pick’in and homemade wine.

I am from the quilt on my grandmother’s bed,
mothballs in the closet and the garden out back.
I am from the sweet rain of summer,
trips to the Dairy Freeze and barefoot in the grass.

I am from drive all night,
bootleggers and love’in by the lake.
I am from Get Out of Here,
Make Something of Yourself!

I am all that was and all that will be.
I am the questions that I didn’t ask,
callused hands long gone.
I carry them with me —
till death do us part.

 

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Vicki K. Hairston
Greenville, KY
Muhlenberg County

Where I’m From

I’m from the wrong side of the tracks,
That carried the coal in a county that at one time
Was the world’s largest producer, but they are no longer there.

I’m lived behind the school I attended twelve years, but due to
Progress it is now shuttered and empty.

I’m from parents who believed in hard work
but not a lot of love and praise.
I’m two of two, different and distant.
I’m a coal miner’s daughter, but have never been
a coal miner’s wife due to the bust.
I’m a mother, grandmother, believer, volunteer, employee, friend.
I have known grief for parents, grandparents,
a best friend and a granddaughter.

I’m where I want to be, in this county
where the sun rises in the Green
and sets in The Pond.

 

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Jordan Hancock
Greenville, KY
Muhlenberg County

Sonnet 2: Belfry

Fording two creeks, Whiskey Run and one,
Descended Adam from green Paradise.
He eyed a vast Frame whose shell was the sun,
And Creation remembered, was enticed.

The Silhouette offered Adam a drink,
And feeling parched, he could not quite say no.
“Ay, ‘tis dark, yet not starless, I should think.”
“Here, the rivers are but compeers of coal.”

Inspired by the easterly winds of steam,
Adam heard thumbpicking that reached Heaven.
This song replaced by that of budding dreams,
Echoing tones spoke the Form, times seven.

Adam looked down the chalice and saw me
And up shrouded columns a great belfry.

 

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Vicki Whitaker Taylor
Central City, KY
Muhlenberg County

Where I’m From

I am from mountains,
from creeks and hollers.
I am from front porch sitting,
lightening bus, crawdads
and butchered hogs.

I am from the Willow tree,
the soft breezes and
the fog on the mountain.
I am from pop and bologna,
from Arthur and Altie.

I’m from preachers, Aunnies and give me sugars.
From in or out one and shut that door!
I am from bluegrass
and hymnals.

I am from Linefork and Kingscreek,
lettuce and onions, cornbread and beans.
From the warmth of the pot-bellied stove
to homemade quilts.

I am from the yard of
Precious memories,
Voices of those long gone
Reminding us of a loving family

I am from those times.
I am from those people.
I am those memories.

 

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Lisa Winter
Greenville, KY
Muhlenberg County

Where I’m From

I came up hard and fast,
rough, rowdy and ready,
born and bred country,
true blue tomboy to the bone,
rockin’ bibs, boots and flannel,
diggin’ fat, slimy fishin’ worms,
and plantin’ delicate ditsy daisies.

Guess that might make a body
curious-minded ‘bout my upbringin’
ponderin’ where a girl might be from
who digs worms and plants daisies?
Well, givin’ this opportunity to brag,
it would be my privilege to reveal
precisely where I do come from:

I come from a place called, Paradise …
raised up in the midst of
Haul Roads and Slack Piles,
Strip Pits and Air Shafts,
down a long line of
risk takin’- deal makin’
Soot-Covered Heroes.

Straight outta Shantytown,
Foot Paths and Dirt Roads,
Penny Pinchin’ and Scanty Livin’
barefootin’ round Shotgun Shacks
down low in Train Track Bottoms,
on the outskirts of Company Row.

I come from Feed Sack Dresses,
Cast-Iron Skillets and Wood-Fired Stoves,
Butcher Knives and Mason Jars,
forged offa’ Smoke Houses and Home Grown Cookin’
Soup Beans, Turnip Greens and Cornbread Fritters,
Country Ham, Red Eye Gravy and Buttermilk Biscuits.

Scarcely survivin’ the Backwoods,
Feedin’ Chickens and Sloppin’ Hogs,
Fetchin’ Water and Scrubbin’ Rags with
Lye Soap on knuckle-bustin’ Washboards,
and air-dryin’ Laundry on the Line,
no matter the weather, even in the freezin’ cold.

I come from the Company Store,
Warm Mornin’ Heaters and Potbellied Stoves,
Wringer Washers and Galvanized Washtubs,
suppliers of Coal Oil, Carbide, and Kerosene,
fuel for the hard-workin’ simple man,
bartered in return for Back Breakin’ Labor.

Brought up on Company Script,
Coupon Books and Metal Flickers,
Store Credit and Unendin’ Debt,
caught up in a Coal Baron’s Monopoly,
selfishly swellin’ the pockets of the rich,
and dauntly drainin’ the life out of the poor.

I come from a Hard Day’s Work,
Picks and Shovels, Sweat and Grit,
Rooms and Pillars, Tunnels and Slopes,
belly crawlin’ through Low Ceilings,
hustlin’ butt bustin’ train loads of
Black Diamonds and Dust.

Raised on the “Hoot Owl Shift”
Hard Hats and Draglines,
High Walls and Sludge Pits,
eatin’ Lunch Bucket Leftovers, and
diggin’ Pay Dirt from dusk till dawn
in the swampland round River Bottoms.

I come from the ragin’ Radicals,
Labor Disputes, Union Strikes, and Picket Lines,
Layoffs, Shutdowns, and Unemployment.
infamously fueled by High Sulphur Coal
bein’ hauled ‘way on a long black train,
billowin’ thick, gray smoke down the tracks.

A genuine product of perilous times,
livin’ hard and dyin’ young with
Emphazema and Black Lung
battlin’ a hellacious fossil fuel,
a million years in the makin’
in the heart of the West Ky Coal Field.

I come, from a jaunty line of outright Originals,
a fortified descendent of the legendary
play hards, love hards, and work hards,
tobacco smokin’ snuff dippin’ chaw spittin’
Bible believin’ Sunday preachin’
Down-Home, Home-Grown, Legends.

Bred on Larger than Life Reputations,
the Jokesters and the Pranksters,
the Nicknamers and the Storytellers,
makin’ the most outta’ expectin’ the least,
runnin’ trot lines and scoutin’ game
tradin’ Pocketknives and whittlin’ Hickory Sticks.

I come from God’s Greatest Generation,
taught the value of John L. Lewis, and
witnessin’ the glory days of the UMWA,
takin’ pride in a good day’s work,
lovin’ Family and holdin’ Friends dear,
learnin’ bout Jesus and bein’ proud about
knowin’ how to work with my hands.

Been watchin’ all my life how mankind
pursues the ever-present quest for survivin’
noticin’ early on how bread winnin’ possesses
no age limit, markin’ up the strong willed with
Calloused Hands, Dirty Nails and Dingy Faces,
from packin’ Coal Buckets, Cinders and Ashes,
but never failin’ to provide, no matter the cost.

Spent most my life livin’ on the edge,
dodgin’ hard knocks, killin’ precious time,
never givin’ a second mind to bein’
lost in the midst of toil and despair,
rackin’ up sufferin’… stock pilin’ pain,
and gamblin’ every moment away like
a Canary tappin’ a new Coal Seam.

Yet, when I recollect where I come from,
my inner spirit soars at the thought of the
Precious People who shaped my mindset,
taught me right from wrong, and watched in
anticipation of what I would make of myself,
and for the sacrifices they made so that
I can stand today and pay tribute to our home.

In honor of all those I grew up with:
like the front porch Checker pushers,
leanin’ back in Ladder Back Chairs
drinkin’ Pop Bottles full of peanuts,
talkin’ big, Thumbpickin’ by ear,
and Singin’ Country by heart,
I can proudly say: I come from Paradise…