Student+Selections-Poetry+Packet+2

 Jeff Davis is coming, Oh! dear, Oh! dear, Jeff Davis is coming, Oh! dear; I dare not stir out for I fell very queer, Jeff Davis is coming, Oh! dear. I fain would go home without shedding a tear About Davis in taking the president's chair; But I dare not attempt it, Oh! dear, Oh! dear, I'm afraid he will "hang" me, Oh! dear. I tried to deceive them, Oh! dear, Oh! dear, How hard I did strive, Oh! dear; But it was of no use, as it seems very clear, Now that Davis is coming, Oh! dear. Then I tried to coerce them, Oh! dear, Oh! dear, With thousands of troops far and near; But they joined me for bread, not for Union I fear, And they hate me the worse, Oh! dear. Then I tried to blockade them, Oh! dear, Oh! dear, With a fleet true and steady, Oh! dear; But England says No! and is coming 'tis clear, For it is not "effective," Oh! dear, Oh! dear. I would renounce all the honours, Oh! dear, And try to get home as I came, But I dare not stir out for I feel very queer, For Davis is coming, Oh! dear.
 * Old Abe's Lament **
 * Author Unknown **

-Submitted by Paul Weinrich

 Between Wytheville, Virginia and the North Carolina line, he meets a wagon headed where he's been, seated beside her parents a dark-eyed girl who grips the reins in her fist, no more than sixteen, he's guess as they come closer and she doesn't look away or blush but allows his eyes to hold hers that moment their lives pass. He rides into Boone at dusk, stops at an inn where he buys his supper, a sleepless night thinking of fallow fields still miles away, the girl he might not find the like of again. When dawn breaks he mounts his roan, then backtracks, searches three days hamlets and farms, any smoke rising above the tree line before he heads south, toward home, the French Broad's valley where spring unclinches the dogwood buds as he plants the bottomland, come night by candlelight builds a butter churn and cradle, cherry headboard for the bed, forges a double-eagle into a wedding ring and then back to Virginia and spends five weeks riding and asking from Elk Creek to Damascas before he finds the wagon tethered to the hitching post of a crossroads store, inside the girl who smiles as if she'd known all along his gray eyes would search until they found her. She asks one question, his name, as her eyes study the gold smoldering there between them, the offered palm she lightens, slips the ring on herself so he knows right then the woman she will be, bold enough match for a man rash as his name.
 * The Exchange **
 * Ron Rash **

-Submitted by Nathan Welch


 * Cornbread **
 * Jim Chandler, AKA ****Jazzbo Koontz **

i don't care to write about life & death war & peace the good times or the bad

let my words pay homage to cornbread god's present to the south

the redneck's gift to the world

crushed maize that never saw a factory smokestack or heard the hum of freeway wheels or the babble of a million lost souls

when it comes my time to walk the magic line fill my pockets with hoe cakes

hardtack for the last ride over yonder hill

over to the buttermilk river

running deep & cold beneath starry skies

the eye of a hawk reflecting cornbread dreams

Forever  <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"> -Submitted by Citlalli Sanchez, Jacarious Raines, Jovanny Duran, Tucker Crumpton

<span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"> I'm a lonesome fallen leaf just dropped from Mama's tree-
 * <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Out On A Limb **
 * <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Eddie Draper **

And as I drift this fearsome stream avoid the mouth of bass and trout-

I float and bob yet prayer my course afraid I scamp to Destin's shore-

I pass the fishers -uninterested They stare my veins then cast anew-

I made the second narrow thru my second guess - my plight - Around the bend horizon's wait - no turning back I share the current and miss you Mom--- <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"> -Submitted by Jada Haynes

<span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"> <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">The old men used to sing And lifted a brother Carefully Out the door I used to think they Were born Knowing how to Gently swing A casket They shuffled softly Eyes dry More awkward With the flowers Than with the widow After they'd put the Body in And stood around waiting In their Brown suits. <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"> --Submitted by Denzel Maxey
 * <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">The Old Men Used to Sing **
 * <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">Alice Walker **

<span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"> <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-list: Ignore; msofareastfontfamily: 'Times New Roman'; msolist: Ignore;">I. <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">LISTEN! The sombre foliage of the Pine, A smart Gitana of the woodland trees, Is answering what we may but half divine To those soft whispers of the twilight breeze!
 * <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">The Pine’s Mystery **
 * <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">Paul Hamilton Hayne **

<span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-list: Ignore; msofareastfontfamily: 'Times New Roman'; msolist: Ignore;">II. <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">Passion and mystery murmer through the leaves, Passion and mystery, touched by deathless pain. Whose monotone of long, low anguish grieves For something that shall not live again!

- Submitted by Christopher Gomez

Sidney Lanier ** <span style="font-size: 9pt; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">Superb and sole, upon a plumed spray That o'er the general leafage boldly grew, He summ'd the woods in song; or typic drew The watch of hungry hawks, the lone dismay Of languid doves when long their lovers stray, And all birds' passion-plays that sprinkle dew At morn in brake or bosky avenue. Whate'er birds did or dreamed, this bird could say. Then down he shot, bounced airily along The sward, twitched in a grasshopper, made song Midflight, perched, prinked, and to his art again. Sweet Science, this large riddle read me plain: How may the death of that dull insect be The life of yon trim Shakespeare on the tree? <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"> -Submitted by Max Germain <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"> <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> Season of the exoskeleton, spider days when the black widow flashes her hour glass.
 * <span style="font-size: 9pt; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">The Mocking-Bird
 * <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">DROUGHT **
 * <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Joan Mitchell **

Land of red ant, black stink bug, rustle of lizard and snake, where the bark beetle carves

intricate galleries into dying pines.

Life dries from the outside in to tough root and armored stem.

Buds parch before they can bloom.

We, too, turn inward, slow as the day’s heat climbs.

We haul topsoil in a pickup truck, and a thin line of green cleaves to the irrigation line.

A snake coils at the spigot.

Beyond, the earth chimes light, lacks past lives for lives to feed on.

The wind wears trees to bone.

Once I thought there were clouds, but it was fire lively across the valley.

Still, the nights are owl-eyed and cool. Moths drum against the window. Last winter’s snow

lives green along the arroyo—rabbit brush and snakeweed, Apache plume and sage.

There are thick-skinned gourds.

And primrose, low to the ground, miraculous as manna. <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"> -Submitted by Byron Patat

<span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"> There must be a smile behind 'yonder door-- Where bridges of my childhood expand--- Oh, little shoes in my cedar chest, I've willed you to my own child's nest-- And you, little cup, that nourished my young eyes-- To my little girl you go without the formal goodbyes-
 * <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">Trees are Made of Doors **
 * <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">Eddie Edwards Draper **

With one glance forward-and one last thought- They will be grown while my rockin chair awaits-- While I stand on the fender of time, And spurts of gray have spread my mind-- I may be wise--but not in the sight of my young one's eyes--

The legend of the dogwood tree just came to mind And another generation just left my door-- But, other trees will always grow-- I guess we can't always be the shade---

-Submitted by Margaret McCallister

<span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> Dear comrades on my brow the hand of death is cast, My breath is growing short, all pain will soon be past; My soul will soar away to that bright land of bliss, Far from the pain and woe of such a world as this.
 * <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">The Dying Confederate's Last Words **
 * <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Author Unknown **

I left my home and friends to battle with the foe, To save the Southern land from misery and woe; I gave my life my all (oh! not to win a name, Or have it e'en enrolled upon the scroll of fame.)

Not so, I only wished a helper brave to be To save the glorious South from cruel tyranny; My soul with ardor burned the treacherous foe to fight, And take a noble stand for liberty and right.

But oh! how weak is man! It was not God's decree, That I should longer live a helper brave to be, Before another day I shall be with the dead, And 'neath the grassy sod will be my lonely bed.

And should you see the friends that nurtured me in youth, Tell them I tried to walk the ways of peace and truth; O! tell my mother kind the words that she has given, Have led her wayward child to Jesus and to heaven.

Farewell! farewell! my friends my loving comrades dear, I ask you not to drop for me one bitter tear; The angels sweetly stand and beckon me to come, To that bright land of bliss that heavenly realm my home. <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"> -Submitted by Nour Burjak <span style="font-size: 9pt; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">

<span style="font-size: 9pt; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"> I’d like to set the record straight, for you “Yankees” in the crowd And I’m only gonna say this once, so I’ll say it good and loud! There’s been some misunderstanding, as to what we ought to call, Abe Lincoln’s great “aggression,” you know, that war we fought with y’all. You can use the word “oppression,” and be closer to the truth, but your “yankee” pride won’t dare admit, the lies you’ve taught your youth! You insist on saying “Civil War,” like we were under Yankee rule, But my northern friend, that ain’t the case, though they won’t teach that at school.
 * <span style="font-size: 9pt; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">There Was No Civil War **<span style="font-size: 9pt; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">
 * <span style="font-size: 9pt; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">Ronnie Hatfield **

See, Civil Wars are fought among one’s own, and not some other country’s land, And that’s not a true description of Mr. Lincoln’s master plan. We were a totally separate nation, with our own power to legislate, So us Southerners prefer the term, of “War Between the States.”

“Honest Abe” said “Save the Union, Throw constitution out the door!” “If the southern states secede, I think by God, I’ll start a war! I’ll reinforce Fort Sumter, and force ‘em all to fight, And then swear emancipation, though unintended, makes us right!

That, my friend, is pure aggression, and it was brought about by greed, And aggression is the water, that sprouts secession’s seed! So you’d best rewrite your history books, they’re in error like they are, And for once admit, y’all done us wrong, because THERE WAS NO CIVIL WAR!

-Submitted by Nour Burjak <span style="font-size: 9pt; color: #222222; line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"> <span style="font-size: 9pt; color: #222222; line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> Lisa Kendrick **<span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">
 * <span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Southern Summer

The deep summer night envelops me like a costly cloak of billowing satin. A chorus of night creatures hums a medley against whirring air conditioners and milling cars.

One stray mosquito, having escaped the city’s sprays, flutters by me on its bloody quest. Silence, in the city’s sounds and in the heavy air stirring slowly through its streets. Silence, in the humid heat that is shuttled and spun ‘round by a lazy ocean breeze- A southern breeze that waltzes amongst old warehouses and antique shops and columned mansions- That runs amongst shrimp boat riggings and wooden piers and gabled roofs and a thousand open verandahs!

Above it all floats a few wispy clouds, tendrils of gray life that strut across the darkness. A sprinkling of stars sparkle against the velvet black sky and dirty cotton clouds and rosy city glow.

A pine tree rears its spiny leaves, its sturdy posture a stalwart silhouette. A couple strolls nearby, their shadows chasing each other across pools of light While pulsating music spills from an open doorway and laughing sailors emerge from a downtown bar.

Above it all sings a single chime- The courthouse clock tall and regal and three hundred years old. Still it chimes the hours, its cheerful notes cascading through the sultry air- The sweet southern air that slowly, ever so slowly, lulls me into slumber. <span style="font-size: 10pt; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"> <span style="font-size: 9pt; color: #222222; font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif';"> <span style="font-size: 9pt; color: #222222; font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"> <span style="font-size: 10pt; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">-Submitted by Kathy Partida The dusk has caught them cold. Swift darkness gathers up the sun, And all the beckoning gold That guides them safely into port Is lost beneath the tide. Now the lean moon swings overhead, And Venus, salty-eyed.
 * <span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">
 * <span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Nocturne: Georgia Coast **
 * <span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Daniel Whitehead Hicky **<span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> || <span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> ||
 * <span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">The shrimping boats are late today;
 * <span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">The shrimping boats are late today;
 * <span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">The shrimping boats are late today;

They will be late an hour or more, The fishermen, blaming dark's Swift mischief or the stubborn sea, But as their lanterns' sparks Ride shoreward at the foam's white rim, Until they reach the pier I cannot say if their catch is shrimp, Or fireflies burning clear. ||  || <span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> -Submitted by Branden Rooks <span style="font-size: 10pt; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"> Jim Chandler ** <span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> Clouds gather and I wonder at the tempest to come, marked in possibility by red blotches on weather maps and the slow sway of elms and oaks in the building breeze
 * <span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> Coming Storm

Afternoon will fade to evening as the sun draws its last breath of convection like a dying man expelling his last sigh in a white room who knows if there is more magic in death than in the pull of moisture toward the sun the birth of clouds from the blue belly of heaven

I sit- torn by a million emotions and no fear of clouds be they white puff balls sliding in a zure sheen or spinning tubes of dirty gray spitting death and the loss of gravity across dale and glade if only in temporary fashion- my face in a shining tube

I wonder if things could ever be as I hope they will be of if Fate will deal from the bottom of the deck while I smile from behind four aces and a royal flush seems as far away as the dying sun

The high flights are always followed by hard landings and sometimes things seem to ebb and flow in a way designed to confuse to bring fear tromping out of the basement armed with a bloody briar blade and wearing a grin that would scare Freddie off Elm Street and into exile

I rocked like an Atlas this morning kicked butt all the way to the stratosphere swung in an orbit high above this blue and white ball but my fuel went shy at some point

Nose heavy lift decayed sour air skirted my alirons and my elevator gone I plunged and spun downward graceful as a brick off the 10 meter board

I hit bottom with a splash and here I sit lost in a haze blinded by the shine of glowing tubes in my face

And I have no answers because I'm not even sure what the question is or if I want to Know <span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"> -Submitted by Martaisa Manago