Monday, March 30, 2009

Too Wet To Plow, Too Windy To Pile Rocks



Too Wet To Plow, Too Windy To Pile Rocks
By Roni Gilpin


Warm sun through the window beckons us. “Outside, Outside.”
Across the field, brown grass wears a green glow.
Stiff bones creak, “It is time, it is time”.

March wind, incessant and unforgiving, disagrees.
It drones on through the distant trees
Like a torrent over rocks in the stream.

There is no quiet, no rest from the tempest, the dull unending roar.
As the last leaves of the burr oak
Are loosed in the current and sent like debris,

Natural detritus mingled with the neighbor’s garbage,
Fast food cartons and plastic bags
Catch in the trees and wave like pennants announcing a spring not yet come.

There is work to be done, but like the crows, tired of fighting the headwind,
We acquiesce, go inside, and pour over seed catalogues.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

An Evening With the Mountain Keepers

The University of Kentucky Writing Program
Community Engagement Series
Proudly Presents



Thursday, April 9, 2009 from 6 - 10 pm
UK Student Center Grand Ballroom
Free and open to the public

The Evening celebrates the way that public writing and grassroots community action work together to ensure a healthy, participatory democracy. Learn about Appalachia's endangered culture and its uneasy relationship with coal, and experience how journalists, poets, speakers, artists, and musicians use creative activism to make their voices heard.

Take a look at the Beehive Collective's incredible new work of art The True Cost of Coal and talk with the artists who created it, see Jeff Chapman-Crane's breathtaking sculpture The Agony of Gaia, visit with our community partners about their unique coal-culture exhibits, browse art and culture displays, watch MTR visuals, listen to activist music from Public Outcry and others, and enjoy refreshments.

7-9—Program

MC Erik Reece begins the program with a brief reading from Lost Mountain and a discussion of the way that public writing and grassroots community action work together to safeguard the participatory democratic nation our Founders designed. He highlights the way in which engaged citizen-writers have worked for decades to make disturbing environmental and social justice issues visible to the public eye

Frank X Walker offers an introduction to Appalachia's endangered culture and performs his new poem—a reflection on a photograph of WV coal miners.

Judy Sizemore reads The Badlands of Kentucky

Dave Cooper gives a geographic and ecological overview of MTR

George Ella Lyon reads original poetry

Silas House and Jason Howard read from Something's Rising: Appalachians Fighting MTR

Public Outcry! plays original acoustic MTR music.. meet Silas House, Jason Howard, Jessie Lynn Keltner, Kate Larken, George Ella Lyon & Anne Shelby

Anne Shelby reads original poetry

Larry Gibson, the WV activist featured by CNN, Nightline, and People Magazine, shares his moving personal narratives on MTR and community

9p—Q&A and . . .

Audience Q&A discussion with presenters, talk with participants, peruse the art, culture, and information exhibits—and hear more MTR activist music.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

The Inner Me

(Art by Tammy Vitale)




THE INNER ME

My inner woman has done got up and gone
She tripped and ran fast as she could
Not a word, a poem, or even a little song
She only did what she thought she should

My inner me is buried deep
Afraid to come out or even to see
She has so many ideas she would love to keep
But she's afraid of life and the collective we

My inner self is bruised and torn
Grief stricken and fragile, threatening to break
But it's time to move on and no more to mourn
Even if my actions feel like a fake

My inner drive must suck it up
Stop wallowing in pain, start enjoying my life
Quit dragging my ass through the layers of muck
Cut this pain away with the blade of my knife

My inner id is a beautiful thing
When I allow her a chance to breathe
She is filled with life, almost bursting to sing
I think she'll stick around if I only believe

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Sisterhood of the Unraveling Pants

I hadn't intended to post this here because I have it on another blog, but after it was published in the Lexington Herald-Leader (3-17-2009), I couldn't resist.



Sisterhood of the Unraveling Pants

Why is it that sometimes I think my youngest daughter is raising me instead of the other way around? With a 10-year age difference between my oldest and youngest daughters, Christine has practically been an only child because her older sisters have been out of the house for so long.

Although the stereotypical "only child" has been portrayed as spoiled, pampered and selfish, I can vouch for the fact this is not true.

Case in point, "the ripped pants."

"Honey, do you have to wear those ripped pants?" I looked at my daughter, shaking my head.

"But I like these pants, Mom. They're comfortable." She proceeded to pack her backpack for school, ignoring my exasperated sighs and rolling eyes.

"The teachers are going to think you don't have any good pants to wear." I tried turning on my pleading voice.

"But I do have good pants, Mom; they're just not as comfortable." She walked into the bathroom to pull her long hair up into a ponytail.

"What will your friends say? They are going to make fun of you because you have a big hole in your pants."

"But I don't care what my friends say. If they make fun of me, then they weren't friends to begin with." She turned on the water and started brushing her teeth.

"What about the dress code? I don't want to be called to school to bring you a decent pair of pants." I was running out of objections, but I didn't want her wearing those pants to school.

"But the dress code says you can't have holes on the butt of your pants. They don't want us showing our underwear. It doesn't say anything about holes in the knees." She rinsed her mouth and headed for the front door.

"But honey, I just don't want you wearing those pants!" I knew my voice had gotten forceful, but I couldn't help it.

"Why Mom? Are you worried about me, or are you embarrassed for yourself?"

I stopped dead in my tracks and looked at my daughter with different eyes.

"Mom, these pants are comfortable. I'm not wearing them to make a statement. I'm not wearing them to upset my teachers. I'm not wearing them because of my friends. I'm not wearing them to go against the dress code. And I'm certainly not wearing them to make you mad. You're a great mother! You shouldn't worry so much about what other people think of you." With her speech complete, she kissed me on the cheek, threw her backpack over one shoulder and headed out the door to the bus stop.

I was dumbfounded. I suddenly realized I was more worried about what people thought of me. I was afraid her ripped pants would be a bad reflection on me. I was going against everything I had ever tried to teach her.

Out of the mouths of babes.



(Edited to add: this post appeared in the Lexington Herald-Leader on Tuesday, March 17, 2009)

Monday, March 16, 2009

Tempered Glass



TEMPERED GLASS

I'm so distorted and wavey, not at all serene
My thoughts are captured like the curves in tempered glass
Frosted over, trapped in dark, trapped in light
Always my own, and trapped inside my head

Why can't others see as I do, the rapidly changing world
The dangerouse times in which we live
Hazy waves of violent hostilities, destroying the fabric of life
Leaving us in staggered amazement and full-gale trepidation

When will peace prevail, or at least a steady calm
A breath of tranquil kisses in the face of all alarms
I send a prayer onto the wind to blow a gentle wish
Then I'll remain like tempered glass as hazy as my fears

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Three of Three for March 12th



The Economy of Nature

Ice hung on the trees like
candy on a stick.
Sunlight reflected off each
branch and glistened with color.
For those who looked
it was a fatal beauty
taking with it limbs
and lines
anything hanging
anything without support.

The crackle of destruction
crippled the minds of men
who had grown accustom to
the warmth of easy living.
Suddenly this act of winter
became a nightmare
and inconvenience
a hopeless hazard
no one knew how to deal with.

We cried and moaned
over lit candles and bottled water
unprepared to face anything
unexpected.

And, yet, it was
photogenic
beauty to the eyes…
a contrast in what we are
and what we have become.

We are like weak limbs
and sagging lines of power
susceptible to the real laws that
govern us.
We are dependent on the unnatural
and rebellious to the truth of nature.

Are we unprepared for other storms as well?

Tony Sexton
3/12/09

Two of Three for March 12th


The Benefits of Early Rising

It smiled at me this cold morning.
Oh, not with teeth and lips
like we do, but with
streaks of purple and orange.
It smiled and said I am beautiful
and it was.

And, as it smiled
I heard the geese
flapping and hooking
encouraging the strong to lead
and the weak to learn.

Together
the two gave me hope
that I too
might smile
and lead and learn

Tony Sexton
3/12/09

One of Three for Mach 12th


Knowing the Dark

My eyes look toward
a lonesome dark moon
hanging in the sky
hiding from me and
my half of the world
waiting for another turn
of the earth
to reflect its light on me.

But,
without seeing
I know it is there
just as I know the seasons
are present though
obscured by unseasonable
weather .
Winter is winter
Spring is spring
and I am who I am
whether you can see me
or not.

Tony Sexton
03/10/09

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Cemetery Voices


CEMETERY VOICES

They call to us from the depths of past
Breathless family, friends and foes
Gone away from earthly days
Existing in the barren calm

What would they say, if they could speak to us
Would they approve of this harsh new world
Or would they happily blend with us
To capture the times gone by

I wonder if they understand
All the changes going on
Or are they fixed in time and space
Lifelessness n'er to age or grow

Familiar whispers on bated breath
Try to reach my ears
Cemetery voices from my distant past
Call to calm my fears

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Assignment for March 12, 2009

The writing inspiration for the next Speaking Out II is again a poem by Mary Oliver - Snowy Night. Use this poem creatively in any type of writing - poem, essay, short story, song, etc.

Snowy Night
~~Mary Oliver

Last night, an owl
in the blue dark
tossed
an indeterminate number
of carefully shaped sounds into
the world, in which,
a quarter of a mile away, I happened
to be standing.
I couldn't tell
which one it was -
the barred or the great-horned
ship of the air -
it was that distant. But, anyway,
aren't there moments
that are better than knowing something,
and sweeter? Snow was falling,
so much like stars
filling the dark trees
that one could easily imagine
its reason for being was nothing more than prettiness. I suppose
if this were someone else's story
they would have insisted on knowing
whatever is knowable - would have hurried
over the fields
to name it - the owl, I mean.
But it's mine, this poem of the night,
and I just stood there, listening and holding out
my hands to the soft glitter
falling through the air. I love this world,
but not for its answers.
And I wish good luck to the owl,
whatever its name -
and I wish great welcome to the snow,
whatever its severe and comfortless
and beautiful meaning.


We hope to see you Thursday, March 12 at 6:30 at the Mercer County Public Library!

.

Saturday, February 28, 2009

Analysis of Mary Oliver's Cold Poem

“Cold now,
Close to the edge. Almost
unbearable. Clouds
bunch up and boil down
from the north of the white bear.
This tree-splitting morning
I dream of his fat tracks,
the lifesaving suet.”

The first stanza of this poem sets the scene. You can see the cold, feel the cold, all the way down to your bones. The white bear is the cold winter wind, but the clue is in the lifesaving suet. Technically, suet is the fat tissue around the kidneys of some animals like sheep and cattle. In some cultures, suet is used for cooking, but I think this suet is a more literal form.

My lifesaving suet is my passion for writing, my thirst for knowledge. Reading and writing are what gets me through the hard times, the cold times. So often I feel like my life is perpetually in its winter months. "Cold now" and "almost unbearable," so what keeps me going? The life-saving suet; the fat from my past.

“I think of summer with its luminous fruit,
blossoms rounding to berries, leaves,
handfuls of grain.”

We move from "almost unbearable" cold to a memory of "summer with its luminous fruit." I see the summer as the happy moments of life. The luminous fruit and blossoms are the memories we gather in our hearts, storing them away for when the times are cold. These handfuls of grain help to light the darkness, stave off depression and give us hope for the future.

“Maybe what cold is, is the time
we measure the love we have always had, secretly,
for our own bones, the hard knife-edged love
for the warm river of the I, beyond all else; maybe”

The cold of winter is when we measure the love we hold for ourselves; the hard love for "I." It is a drawing inward, a time to look deep inside and find our true self. It is a time of reflecting, finding the problem areas and learning how to change them.

“that is what it means the beauty
of the blue shark cruising toward the tumbling seals.”

Many times there is beauty in fear, beauty in ugliness or violence, so I can see "the beauty of the blue shark cruising toward the tumbling seals." Love can devour, sometimes swallowing emotions whole. So this confusion of cold is likened to our inward desire to consume ourselves. We are the blue shark.

“In the season of snow,
in the immeasurable cold,
we grow cruel but honest; we keep
ourselves alive,
if we can, taking one after another
the necessary bodies of others, the many crushed red flowers.”

We keep ourselves alive by taking “the necessary bodies of others.” That cruel requirement of life, that it takes life and life is taken; we feed life and life becomes beautiful. Whether we eat the bear in winter or ourselves in our loneliness or our lovers in our passion, our lives are consumed with the desire to destroy by partaking in an event we usually associate with health, nutrition, life; but in this case, our lives are the deaths of something else – a memory, a feeling, an emotion.

I've certainly grown more honest even if it is seen as cruel, even if it destroys some things that are beautiful. I think the red flowers at the end might be "crushed" underfoot; therefore, they contrast with the "fat tracks" at the beginning of the poem. That is, the "lifesaving suet" that is left bleeding at the end.

I see this as a poem about aging and growing older. Dreaming of the "fat" times and thinking back to summer are ways of remembering youth, grieving the loss of youth. It's as if the cold brings out the worst in us - cold-hearted survival, or intense love. Only by loving our innermost selves can we hope to love others.

We drain the very essence of the other to continue to hear our own river's song humming in our ears. We continue to collect the suet of memories, the blossoms of happy times, and the crushed red flowers of lessons we have learned along the way.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Time


TIME

Time is elusive
It never ceases
No matter how hard we try
Time keeps marching by

What time is it now
Where did time go
I don't have enough time
When will there be time

Time slows for no man
It ravages every day
Until our time is up and gone
From every dusk and dawn

Thursday, February 19, 2009

February 26th Assignment

Writing prompt by Mary Oliver


Cold Poem

Cold now,
Close to the edge. Almost
unbearable. Clouds
bunch up and boil down
from the north of the white bear.
This tree-splitting morning
I dream of his fat tracks,
the lifesaving suet.

I think of summer with its luminous fruit,
blossoms rounding to berries, leaves,
handfuls of grain.

Maybe what cold is, is the time
we measure the love we have always had, secretly,
for our own bones, the hard knife-edged love
for the warmth river of the I, beyond all else; maybe

that is what it means the beauty
of the blue shark cruising toward the tumbling seals.

In the season of snow,
in the immeasurable cold,
we grow cruel but honest; we keep
ourselves alive,
if we can, taking one after another
the necessary bodies of others, the many
crushed red flowers.



The Assignment:
Give yourself 30 minutes with no phone and no interruptions. Read Mary Oliver's poem, pick a line or two that reasonate with you and WRITE without stopping. Or consider the following writing suggestions:

1.) What do your dreams of "lifesaving suet" look like?

2.) This time of year, do you find yourself thinking of summer? What are the 5 things you miss/look forward to most? Why?

3.) What does this line mean to you?
"Maybe what cold is, is the time we measure the love we have always had, secretly, for our own bones."

4.) Do you find yourself growing "cruel but honest" with the snow or the darkness.

5.) What are your "many crushed red flowers?"

6.) Write about what you anticipate - excitement or dread or both. What are your coping mehanisms? Make a promise to yourself and KEEP it.


We hope to see everyone on Thursday, February 26th at 6:30 p.m.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

February 12th Assignment

So sorry writers, I forgot to post what the assignment was for tonight's meeting!! This is a carry-over from the meetings we missed in January. We are to write a piece about someone who has been an influence in our lives.

Hope to see everyone tonight at the Mercer Public Library @ 6:30 p.m.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Governor's School for the Arts

Congratulations Christine!! You made it past the first creative writing hurdle for the Governor's School for the Arts. Next step, the Transylvania interview and reading in March. Good Luck!!

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Ice Storm

Due to the ice storm that has crippled Mercer County and surrounding areas, the Speaking Out II writing class scheduled for tonight has been canceled. The next scheduled class will be Thursday, February 12th.

Everyone stay safe, keep writing and we'll see you in 2 weeks!

Sunday, January 25, 2009

The Wedding Ring

I recently accepted a challenge from Mama's Losin' It to write about the following topic:

**Tell about a time you stole something.**


THE WEDDING RING

What child - at one time or another - has not stolen something and then been caught by an adult? Most times, it just takes once to cure a child of stealing. This is what happened to me when I was 8 years old.

I loved visiting my grandparents farm in Bohon - a rural community in Kentucky. There ere fields to run through and outbuilding to play in, always something to do. We would visit the farm at least once a week, but during the summer, my brother, sister and I would get to spend an entire week on the farm while our parents went on vacation.

It was during one of our summers at the farm that my little fingers became sticky. It was a rainy day and we were stuck inside to play. The back room where we slept had a bed with a thick fluffy feather mattress. I loved jumping onto that mattress, hitting the fluffiness and then sinking down into the cozy comfort.

Because this room was right off the kitchen and lead right into the backyard, Granny had a hook for hanging her sun bonnet and a little shelf where she kept her wedding ring when she was going to be working in the garden. Of course, at 8, I didn't realize that Granny would take her ring off before working outdoors.

At the time I found Granny's wedding ring, I didn't know it was a wedding ring. I just knew it was a pretty gold ring and I put it in my pocket to take home with me. I don't remember when Granny missed her ring because she never said anything to us kids.

It was a week later after Mom and Dad were back home that I realized what I had done. I was coming down the hallway when I heard Mom and Dad talking.

"She said she's looked everywhere for it," my Mom said.

"Well, it's got to be somewhere," said my Dad. "Is she sure she didn't lose it in the garden?"

"No - she thinks she left it on the shelf in the back room."

Shelf in the back room - as soon as I heard those words, I knew what they were talking about.

"Wh ... at's wrong?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing sweetheart," said my Mom. "Granny Sallee has misplaced her wedding ring."

All the rest of that day, I was sick to my stomach. I hadn't meant to steal Granny's wedding ring - I thought it was just a pretty gold ring. I remember not sleeping well that night, worried about what my parents would say when they found out. Because yes, I knew I was going to have to tell them.

The next day - with the ring gripped tightly in my hand - I went to my Mom. I told here I knew where Granny's ring was and I took my hand from behind my back and showed her the shiny gold ring. Even though I was only 8, I can still remember the look of disappointment on my Mom's face.

She called Granny and told her the ring had been found. Later that night, Daddy drove me to the farm to return Granny's wedding ring. I had to give it back to her and apologize, and at the time, it was the hardest thing I had ever done.

It's amazing how one thing can effect the course of your life. I never stole anything after that one incident. I couldn't stand the look of disappointment from my parents and grandparents.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Hope Is In the Air


The enthusiasm is contagious! Everything is building to a crescendo for this all important day in history. Hope is in the air and with hope comes the emergence of a new day in America.

After agonizing over whether to allow my daughter to stay home from school today - I did decide YES - today ended up being a snow day. So now she can stay home without fear of all the work she's missing!

My hubby called last night - he is in Washington for work - and he said the crowds and the traffic are unbelievable! He said just going a short distance takes hours and hours. But he did say most people are excited and even helpful. Plus, he got to see Keith Olbermann doing Countdown from the temporary set for MSNBC!

Today is one of those "Where were you" moments in history our children and grandchildren will be talking about. Write down your hopes and feelings. Talk to your family about what is important to you. Someday, a family member will feel honored to know what YOU were feeling on this important day.

Remember to sign-up and volunteer your services to your community. Even if it is only a small step, every little small step counts towards making our nation stronger.

Happy Inauguration! God Bless America!

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Class Canceled

Wait - before you hop out in the cold tonight, read this:

DUE TO THE FRIGID WEATHER WHICH HAS ARRIVED IN HARRODSBURG, TONIGHT'S SPEAKING OUT II CLASS HAS BEEN CANCELED. HOPEFULLY, WITH COOPERATIVE WEATHER, WE WILL BE MEETING AGAIN ON THURSDAY, JANUARY 29TH.

KEEP ON WRITING AND WE'LL SEE YOU IN 2 WEEKS!!

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Hitting the Big Time


For the past 12+ years, I've had a monthly column in our local magazine - Mercer's Magazine. For the past 3 months I've had a weekly column in the local paper - The Harrodsburg Herald. For a town with roughly 20,000+ residents, I've been proud of the work I do.

But this week, I've hit the big time. For the past 2 days, I've had blog posts printed in a regional newspaper - The Lexington Herald-Leader. To say I'm excited is an understatement.

I have been blogging on the Herald-Leader's break-away website - Bluegrass Moms - for just under a year and I've picked up a few more readers for my personal blogs. Now I'm hoping this added exposure will lead to something more.

Here are the links to the 2 published posts: Being the Best and Anti-Resolutions.

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas one and all!!!