Age 8 and younger
Tennessee Is Home to Me
William Birdwell, Middle Tennessee EMC
Tennessee is home to me
Because of all the light I see.
I can play under summer stars
Catching fireflies in glass jars.
The fall is fun because of leaves
That fall out of pretty trees.
Winter is cold because of the snow.
School is out! Come on! Let’s go!
Spring is pretty, pretty as can be.
That’s why I’m glad it’s home to me.
Kristina Crowder, Cumberland EMC
I’m a red and gold fall leaf hanging
from an oak tree.
I’m a red and gold fall leaf excited
about falling to the ground. The wind
will come and take me away.
Flying through the air I go.
About to touch the cool fall ground.
I made it!
I’m on the ground!
I’m so happy!
What an exciting journey for me,
A red and gold fall leaf!
Aryanna Dykes, Holston EC
The unexpected smell of smoke
wavered through the air,
Caused when a fragment of Sun fell and
caressed the dry Earth.
A gentle kiss that soon became hungry and forceful.
The covetous flames began to bloom
over The Great Smoky Mountains, like
the invasive kudzu that clings to tree
trunks and takes their nourishment.
It’s serpent’s tongue, hot and bright,
slowly licked over the mountains,
Eating away at the fleur and fauna that
couldn’t escape quick enough.
Yet, now it grows back, ash and charred
leaves permeated into the Earth.
A new life blooming in its place.
Cricket Sands, Middle Tennessee EMC
Mr. Self-Destruct will soon erupt
similar to a belligerent volcano.
Drowning in pity and woes,
his mind is his greatest foe.
Forgot to brush his teeth,
therefore they have fallen out
like golden autumn leaves.
Endless fights with himself,
over his paralyzing peeves,
and regards to his health.
He locked a ball and chain to his feet
and then threw away the key,
for he genuinely does believe
this is what he’ll always be.
To the bed he shall greet,
and the mattress he shall rot in,
Thus, he wastes another day.
will never change his ways.
The Ivy Vine
Sandra Wells, Holston EC
The leaves growing from an ivy vine
Told the trees and ferns you’re mine.
But the tree just laughed and said
so what …
My heart belongs to a coocoo clock.
For they’ll cut me down
and I’ll be boards
Then they’ll carry me away o
all the stores.
There a wooden clock I’ll be
Yes, they’ll make a teller of time
So what Mr. Ivy Vine will you say
When the woodsman come to take me
Will you still cling to me and say
that I’m yours
Or will you hide along the forest floor?
Age 65 and older
The Fisherman’s Song
Millie Ungren, Pickwick EC
Old river dragged a reflecting sky
through shadows of night and day
an orb of moon, splashing along
crossing the milky way
The lone heron stood on one long leg
in silent contemplation
the fisherman sang, raising his nets
a song of expectation
“Oh sphere of gold
are you opposed
to Earth where cares abound
do you rejoice to fleecy clouds
and starry crowns
are you a watchman of the night
guiding vagabonds to peaceful dreams
I would that I that light could be
and all the world
some happiness could see”
Sycamore leaves filtered down
like musical notes.