POETRY
MY POETRY
A PHOENIX HAS RISEN
Molded of ancient earth this mystical birth.
Within faint flickers of fiery whispers;
Now crying chants -- "Arise - Arise."
Renewed eyes; staring, squinting through
The blue-gray mists of untouched dawn.
Waking; searching; where beyond lies the
unknown.
In that realm; tomorrow awaits the birth-
ling; this child of renewal.
The forgotten fire of yesterday; ignites
the dead cold embers of forlorn thought.
Then from within those cold embers renewed;
A blaze --- A phoenix has risen
from the ashes of oppression, refusing
to yield to greed and obsession.
Gallant; this new birth at one with new
self; risen above now, beyond torrid past.
Stately creature spreads new found wings,
and sings the melody of freedoms song,
Lost for so long. With birth of new day
Painful yesterday slithers away, and
Gentle winged birth of freedom rises;
Rises to open sky, to fly.
On crest of summer breeze;
Life below slows to ease.
The words of the procrastinators
Fall to deaf ears, where now flow silent
tears. Thought; that gentle thought,
Valiantly has fought; and upon
Winged steed has conquered the oppressor.
Now weary days of weighted past
lie dead at last, and this phoenix
born anew; has risen beyond oppression.
Beyond indecision, from belief, from
thought, from sweet Mother Earth
comes now; sweet rebirth.
Me with poem
displayed at regional
attraction.
My poetry has apppeared
in magazines and journals
across the nation.
ALL MATERIAL IS COPYRIGHTED:
please do not copy without
permission. Thank you.
My home is perhaps poetic by nature,
it is undoubtedly poetic for me. The rugged
area around Paint creek inspired me as a child
to write. Many of those words have faded into
the past; lost in some mislaid journal, or
unwritten verse.
The people of the area are also inspiring, gentle, soft-spoken, and often the influences of my words.My Grand Pa introduced me to the hills and cliffs around Paint Creek, this when I moved here from Ohio at the age of twelve. His teachings launched a desire in me to bring others to the rugged Paint Creek lanscape through my words.
When I was in High School; I had a dream as did most- mine however was to be at one with the hills and cliffs in some secluded cabin tucked away in a hollow, with just the necessities; and a solitary typewriter. But, life is always demanding, and sometimes survival leads you to earn a living the old fashioned way; by hard work.
Now in the winter of my life- change has brought forth new and meaningful opportunities. I have now the time, and I have discovered not only does the love of this region come alive through my words; but also in my paintings and carvings. So - whenever I remember the dream I had in school, I look around and realize it has came, though in a time when I least expected it.
Jimmie R. Pennington
2002
copyright-1998/Written March 1977
From the HOLLOW TALES COLLECTION
In the wind swept days of March
I have walked through golden fields
And roamed o'er these peaceful hills
I have conquered towering cliffs
Climbing to their summit to kiss the sky
Among the tree tops
There I have thought with the silence of
Nature around me, and I was overcome
By her many wonders
I have drifted silently with the gentle flow
Of this winding stream
Where sun sparkled diamonds
Lie sprinkled on rippling waters
I have touched - no embraced
The beauty of this land it has been my friend
I have came here often to seek its freedom
Seek its silence; I have found both
For hours on end I silently sat
Touching distant dreams
That lay hidden beyond blue capped hills
I have walked o'er pastures that edge
This majestic stream and felt the spirit
Of forefathers past; the labors of hours spent
Clearing this precious land
Here - their earthly home
And peaceful reward of life
And now in fertile soils have found
Eternal rest