Daily Independent (Ashland, KY)


March 2, 2014

03/02/2014 — Regional Poetry

ASHLAND — Farewell My Heart

Leave Me! My heart.

I am ready to bid you farewell,

From you, I am ready to part.

So, from my life you I expel.

I will toss you out from my soul,

Inside that void I will place a rock,

Then once again I will feel whole.

Now caring or worrying about anyone, I will not.

I am tired of all these emotions,

That you my heart had created,

The guilt the sadness, and the impulse notions,

You have made my life difficult and complicated.

From my being you now must leave,

To everyone that decision of min I will notify.

I do not any longer want to love or deceive,

Leave me! My heart, and goodbye.

Randy L. McClave

The Right Choice

For the soul of man

Never shall die,

It will live forever,

Either below or on high.

Which ever direction,

Only you can make,

The choice is yours

But don’t wait to late.

For the Lord is just,

And for the those who are willing,

Turn unto him,

And start thy healing.

For he will cleanse your heart,

And reshape your mind,

And you will develop into,

One who is no longer blind.

For you shall see,

And long for His coming,

And know that one day,

For you He is coming.

And your love for others,

Will grow oh so strong,

As you witness to them,

Of thy Heavenly home.

And you shall be thankful,

And in our Lord you will rejoice.

For the many blessings He gave you,

And for making “The Right Choice”.

Lawrence Melvin


I can hardly wait until spring,

When soft warm breezes blow.

To hear red breast robins sing,

I can hardly wait until spring.

When gone is the winter king,

Leaving no more ice and snow.

I can hardly wait until spring,

When soft warm breezes blow.

Helen L. Hunt

Life In The Attic

If I lived in an attic,

I would eat a block of cheese.

My shoes would be stitched remnants

Of potato peels.

I would lay on a cotton woven sleeping mat

In front of a small kerosene heater.

My flesh would be the same color as a dolphin.

My soul, on the other hand, will di a hole to china,

And start a business selling cheap religious trinkets

To tourist on there way to the Xi-Xiang Provence.

I do live in an attic.

I eat chocolate and drink water.

I have no shoes nor clothes,

Wallowing in bellows of linen

In from of a semi working tv.

My flesh is the color of age, mottled in places,

Sagging in others.

My soul on the other hand, soars to the heights

And selling nothing religious,

But giving it away for free, to those who ask.

Jeremy Wheeler and

Lydia Wiley


I ask, Why was I born?

As I sit in my darkness alone and forlorn

The Shades of night come as demons,

Stripping me of my sanity and reason.

I search for something to ease my pain,

The demons are coming to drive me insane,

They gather around me attacking my mind,

Twisting and melding to which they have entwined.

Daylight comes bringing me relief,

Knowing it’s temporary and only brief.

For my darkness has no time or clock,

It comes suddenly my demons are unlocked.

From the depths of my hell demons ascend,

Attacking my sanity once again.

Just for some solitude or place to hide,

My demons come to me as a rising tide.

They weaken my spirit and shake my soul,

The demons bubble up from their master below.

The darkness is something I truely dread,

For the demons are again attacking my head.

I grab my gun and newtown I go,

Shooting and killing to everyone’s woe,

Next to Colorado the demons did show.

Death and destruction are seeds they sow.

These demons can attack any time or place.

There is no warning or recognizable face,

As a thief in the night the demons will appear,

Bringing carnage and death to all that’s near.

Earl Ferguson


No one told me that love could come slowly.

Seeping into an unsuspecting heart,

Winding its way to the center emotions.

Silently lodging somewhere within,

A joy created but often left unspoken.

Lighting an ancient path,

That only lovers understand.

No one told me.

Anita Griffith


He doesn’t like togetherness or me to crowd his space,

Or gaze lovingly into my eyes or gently stroke my face.

He doesn’t share my inner thoughts and keeps his own,

But with his loyal devotion we’ve had a happy home.

He never talks about me with words that are unkind,

If he is thinking them, they are kept locked in his mind.

His words come slowly and most of the time are few,

Especially the ones that he’ll boldly say, “I love you”.

He doesn’t  hold grudges and most often he forgives,

And with out an explanation for that’s the way he lives.

He hates the word goodbye and just says so long,

And he loves cats, flowers, music and a pretty song.

He seldom gives me gifts and his compliments are rare,

But I am always quite content just knowing he is there.

He’s my truest friend and there’s none better I could find,

And sleeping peacefully beside him gives me peace of mind.

I’ve never felt all these years that I was being deprived,

For true love isn’t pretty words but what you feel inside.

He’s beside me in the good time and when they are bad,

And our children love him and they proudly call him dad.

Each day that we’re together grows better in every way,

And I thank the Lord daily for my blessings when I pray.

His love is like pure gold that I’ll treasure and always keep,

And he’s proven that old adage that true love does run deep.

Dotty Holbrook

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