Age 8 and younger
Magdalena Vongkasemsiri, Middle Tennessee EMC
The kangaroo from the
Was hopping today
and the farmer said, “hey!”
“You’re going to the fair because
You’re sure to win something there!”
At the fair there was a big brown bear,
And an elephant with a big long trunk.
The farmer said, “I’d better get in bed
To be ready for the long day ahead”
The next day the kangaroo hopped,
And made those judges’ eyes pop!
The kangaroo got first, and the farmer
Was proud enough to burst!
Sweet Sweet Tennessee
Rachel Ramsey, Tri-County EMC
In Tennessee you lay under a tree
The birds sing and chirp
Sweet, sweet cherry trees
In Tennessee you drink ice tea
The zoo is where I like to be
Sweet, sweet Tennessee.
Jaycee Kaylin Daley, Caney Fork EC
I was at the playground.
I saw flowers.
I saw clouds and the sun.
I started taking my shoes off.
Running until I get sweaty.
Hannah Stone, Middle Tennessee EMC
The sun-lit trees aglow
The fields that people often mow
The summer sky
The sheen on beetles passing by
Puffy clouds like steam from a train
Queen Anne’s Lace on the side of the lane
The sky when there’s a
A dove in her nest, safe and warm
The barns that you pass as your drive along
Cheerful cardinals singing their song
The firefly bottoms that light up the night
The Tiger Swallow butterflies as they take flight
Neely Brown, Tennessee Valley Electric Cooperative
The rain is swift
The rain is slow
watching the rain
makes me glow.
The wind takes it
further and further
out until it’s gone.
The next day
it has returned,
rumbling from the cracks
in the sky.
More rain from the south
drowns out the word’s
that come from thy mouth.
The rain has paused,
only to flood the earth
Rain is swift
Rain is slow
The rain makes me
Samantha Rosencrants, Cumberland Electric Membership Corporation
As the sun rising color explodes.
A bruise color turns to ocean blue,
next lavender, then blush pink,
and finally vibrant orange.The sky’s awake. Now the
The sky’s awake. Now the
creatures shall wake from
their slumber. They wake
with songs to the gods and
young wake in search of food.The animals are awake. Now
The animals are awake. Now
the morning glories open their
petals towards the sky. Insects
open their wings and fly.The land is awake. This is a new day.
The land is awake. This is a new day.
The morning’s glow turns to day.
A sea of shifting hues
Rust, scarlet, rose
A hint of palest blue.
Once flying cotton puffs
Laughing at their brothers far below
And swathed in soft
The great orb
In final farewell
Gazes solemnly on the earthly landscape —
Of forest run wild
Like a patchwork quilt
Squares in green, gold
And dappled white.
A lone mockingbird
Takes to air as
Piercing streaks of fire
Split the sky
Making black silhouettes
Of trees and silos.
The last rays
Fade and vanish
Shrouding the world
In endless gray.
Telling Tennessee Time
Anna Kurschner, Chickasaw Electric Cooperative
Funny how down south the time
Can run and yet seem slow;
Same clock as Illinois, Nebraska,
And New Jersey on the go.
But something about the greener land
‘Way down in deep country;
It can give and take and last forever-
The heart of Tennessee.
Here we live and dream our dreams;
The limit’s way out yon’.
Year after year land stays the same;
Foundation built upon.
It’s a heritage passed down
From Pioneers to Modern days.
Though endless clocks keep ticking on,
Down here time sleeps always.
Little Valley of Sunshine
Alexandria Roberts, Middle Tennessee Electric Membership Corporation
Little Valley of Sunshine
As I gaze upon the great expanse of the west
Wonder at the still everglades of the north
Marvel at the mighty mountains of the east
There is still but one place I call home
Just south of the Mason-Dixon
Where the sky is blue
Grass is green
I know you, and you know me
Where summers are longer
Tea a Iii’ sweeter
And faith a Iii’ stronger
Where we raise our flags
Count our blessings
And love our neighbors
Where the sun will forever shine
And freedom forever ring
This is home-sweet-home to me
Bethany Binkley, Cumberland EMC
Serendipity is the sun
Shining over a forlorn field
That is a hard life riddled
With uncertainty and a constant
Fear of perpetual disappointment.
It is finding love in hate,
And a flower growing in the concrete
When the flood came
And you tried to rescue me,
When I found peace on my own
On the Bicentennial Trail,
You were there as well.
No matter how dark the sky,
You brightened it whether I wanted the sun or not,
And somehow I always found
Myself grateful for something I
Didn’t know I needed.
Childhood Drawings in Crayon, Revisited
Hunter Keough, Pickwick Electric Cooperative
Orange mountains trekked by the footsteps of trees:
It’s like walking on the sun. If you were walking on the sun.
And purple birds glaze the curved edge of Heaven,
replace themselves with their shadows
of bats. Their primary forms make m’s across the night,
the backdrop of a world that is an advertisement
begging more desire than love. Cicada coos fall
like the stars that bats are. Taste the salt coating
the night’s darkness; feel the rust-world
on your tongue. Hum deeply down your heart-trail.
Southern Summer Night
Rachel Blackwell, Appalachian Electric Cooperative
She walks gracefully through the humid evening air, in baggy t-shirt attire, cap turned backwards; her auburn hair is a messy ponytail.
She floats lightly like the rippled clouds stained in hues of indigo and fuchsia.
The air smells of fresh laundry married with the aroma of begonias and azaleas; the petals fall in a pink blanket upon the pavement.
A mocking bird is perched ornamentally upon the street sign of Dryden Drive; joyously it sings it’s summer song.
She stands in awe as her hazel eyes melt into honey gold as the Tennessee sunset consumes them.
Lucinda Coleman, Duck River EMC
In this place
Where once the river bent
Native tongues spoke with meaning
Words now echoed with hollow resonance
Lingering to haunt the sentient soul
Syllables murmur in ghostly whispers
With many vowels
Mispronounced evidence of
Language lost and sold
With a little gold, shamefully
Promises made and broken
Still words remain
Falling on innocent ears accustomed to
Erroneous inflection, grave mis-direction
And abuse of phonics
But, tender conscience detects
What macron rejects
And is sorely pricked by green-signs near paved-roads
And faded-maps in
Nancy Lawrence, Duck River Electric Cooperative
Lovely call upon air
at twilight’s first sigh;
as sun sleeps, night’s breeze
stir my yearning heart;
life rustles and rises
within forest deep. Eyes shaded, head bowed
Eyes shaded, head bowed
Beneath low-slung vines
past brambles thick;
beckons with curiosity or foreboding yet leads me along
a magical ribbon of song. Life’s renewing dance;
Life’s renewing dance;
shadow upon shadow
dusk until dawn,
frolic of wings
feasting of spirits
to and fro as love calls. Dark’s safety at end,
Dark’s safety at end,
dawn breaks with anticipation,
light scatters and settles
upon leaf and limb
safe harbor, camouflaged and still. Rest till dusk, Tennessee Whippoorwill.
The Human Spirit, Like a River
The human spirit, like a river ………………
Nourished with the spring thaw
Depleted with absence and drought
deep, wide, brimming with life’s discoveries
shallow, swift, furious with haste… dangerous yet exhilarating
Nature’s observer with miles of detours … direct, the unyielding explorer
An aware pioneer in beauty and simplicity
Age 65 and older
Old Lady in Red Convertible
Christine Colane, Duck River EMC
Short punky white hair
Stands at attention
Tickling bronze leathery face
Of short stout matron
Barely peering over steering wheel
Of bright red convertible
Resting at traffic light
On Main Street
Tullahoma, Tennessee 37388.
Rap music shouting, spouting through air
Like invisible obnoxious exhaust
Offending ears of nearby drivers.
Blaring lime green t-shirt
Adorned with heavy jewels
Glaring over-sized multi-colored sunglasses
Perched on under-sized pug nose.
Just before turning right
And disappearing out of sight
She catches my vision
Sparks my imagination
Gives me inspiration
And becomes subject of this creation.
Dot Small, Middle Tennessee Electric Membership Corporation
Look at the skyline, what do you see?
Reaching out above it all
is cold hard steel with chain and ball.
The Crane creeks and groans as it changes direction,
angled at buildings to work its destruction.
the lines are changing
as the machines climbs, They blow out rocks, trees and vines
They blow out rocks, trees and vines
build more angles, make more lines.
The tops show stark and straight,
not like nature made. The sun in sharp contrast bounces from glass, dazzling our eyes as we drive past.
The sun in sharp contrast bounces from glass,
dazzling our eyes as we drive past.
No more tree tops on rocky top,
as the machine climbs the hills and blows them up.
God draws the curtain
And drapes the earth
by the black of night.
As he awaits backstage
to observe his children
as they play night games.
Beneath a star-light chandelier,
hanging from the rafters of heaven.
Who knows, even God may have fun.
Occasionally, I will see him,
toss a glowing diamond from the heavens,
but it never touches earth.
Or maybe lightening will spare a tree
and burst the very heart.
But beware, the quality of your fun and games.
Theirs an eye watching you.