Best Carolina Poems
She came back like she said she would.
Great grandma was not a typical ghost
She was a kindred spirit guiding for good
Just when we needed her the most
She saved a life by invading a dream
Until uncle was woke and went to search
How she did it from beyond a mystery
Like a bible story from church
She insisted that he get the baby
That she was very ill and could die
Even though he thought it crazy
He took action from his bedside
Across town baby was found
A deaf mute she was you see
Also brown so hospital around
Took her straight to surgery
The infant child's appendix burst
And her sleeping family didn’t know
What pain the babe must have hurt
That grandma’s ghost came and told.
Now this story is true that I tell you
But there is no fear on my face
For this ghost was grandma so true
Full of love joy and grace a ghost with lace.
*This really happened in my family in Charlotte, NC and the babe who was saved has the scar from surgery till this day. The then colored hospital site was Good Samaritan Hospital. Now it is the site for the Carolina Panther Football Stadium. Great grannie’s name is Mary McGee and she was seen by another aunt as a bright light playing peek a boo as that aunt was then a tot. McGee had always told her kids she would visit one day beyond her grave. I am Mary McGee's great granddaughter.
10/16/2021 WRITTEN FOR GHOST LACE CONTEST
SPONSOR Chantelle Ann Cook
Winter sun is yellow gold
Making mud run of melting snow
And Carolina clay is frozen hill
Where kids sled and play at will
Frosted sky with cotton cloud
In the eye of guy driving snow plow
He’s hard at work while we all play
All school kids search for snowy days
Where this time?
The pair makes several tries--
my hard hat, a can of nails, window ledge
all filled with leaves.
How do they judge
those inferior, this one prime?
It's predetermined,
I don't know how.
So too their songs--
he two-notes or three-notes,
and she chirrrs along.
Same songs, same positions,
morning in and morning out.
I wake to their repetition.
If they watch me, no doubt
they'd see my own routines,
but neither they nor I can find
what isn't wired in my genes.
Why does this human mind
hear Figaro, Figaro, Figaro
in his operatic voice?
Or is it video, video, video?
It's his song, but my choice.
North Carolina—a beautiful place of humble abode,
On summer vacations or all the year round.
Rife with history, the Wright Brothers showed,
Thanks to Kitty Hawk's sand dunes at heights quite profound,
Hosting Earth's first manned flight on wings at our coast.
Carolina Tarheels—the battle cries loud,
Across our green state, Biltmore east, towards Kill Devil Hills.
Rolling gently across cotton and tobacco fields plowed,
Over civil war lands defended with vigor and skill.
Lakes and streams they're a plenty, abundant wildlife to boast,
Identified as "Southern" south of Mason-Dixon’s own line.
North Carolina place of wonder, from mountains to coast,
Appalachian Trail hikers by the thousands lovingly opine.
So the next time you feel, the need to discover,
Visit North Carolina's splendor, with a friend, sister, or brother!
Her list includes croutons and jelly and jam,
as I read down, I see knockwurst and ham.
Bananas and tuna, pick up Borax and Bold,
if there's no Zest, then get Palmolive Gold.
Orange juice and lemons, Pepsi and Sprite,
ice cream and cookies for our guests tonight.
I arrive on line nine with it all and croutons.
It rings up, I reach in..I forgot the coupons.
On top of the fence
A Crisp and Dewey morning
Smaller than her sound
the line drawn,upstarts
champions no more,we get it
simple,run by me
Blue blue blue blue blue blue
Dressed in blue banging North Carolina
I'm a blue dog I'm a blue dog I'm a blue
dog
dressed in blue banging North Carolina
yeah I bleed blue yeah I bleed blue yeah I
bleed blue
Blue blue blue blue blue blue
I bang my North Carolina State you see
my North Carolina hat nothing but that
NC state the dog is off the chain the dog is
off the chain the dog is off the chain
Blue blue blue blue blue blue
written by Keith Edward Baucum aka Red
Seven aka The Brown Philosopher aka
The Green Poet
I wrote this when I was stupid
A K-8 school, J.S. Waters, was roundly chastised today
Its students held a 'mock' slave auction
This happened in March, in North Carolina, in the year 2022
White students sold black students as slaves, and used the n-word too
One boy went for $350, later he was clubbed with a baseball bat
So, if you roll your eyes over 'Racism?' --in the USA?
~ You ought to think long and hard about that
Fire the principal, the teachers involved, expel the white participants too
Throw the book at the adults, and at those white kids too
Make an example of these horrid beasts, so this NEVER happens again...
We dare not wonder why Civil War wounds have yet to mend
Salty mistiness enters my head.
Nostrils take in. Waves crash!
Sting rays sting! Crabs scatter!
Sandcastles, built wet on dry sand.
Walking miles on water-lapped shore.
Caesar remains, constant companion.
Then man politely asked for my hand.
Next year, for my hand in matrimony.
Ah. Salty, misty, water-waves pull.
Floating out to horizon, swim back.
Suck in the sweet, ocean air retreat.
Summertime vacations, every August.
Gray, weathered house, long ago gone.
It provided shelter, bed to lay head.
Shish kabobs! Stone crabs from fishy,
Dead heads on string. Left turn, bay.
LOW COUNTRY BOIL SOUTH CAROLINA STYLE
Potatoes, corn, onions, sausage, shrimp, and crabs
Boiled together to perfection
Old newspapers laid on the table
All ingredients dumped together
Careful, it's hot
YUM!!
Contest – Low Country Boil
By: Sara Kendrick
It's the last time...
I'll shame myself, this skin will never drink again...
my lips will tumble, escaping from the frown that sits above my chin, I'll
taste loneliness and the shadow of forever as I run my tongue across the silhouette of
dishonesty...
and I'll starve, I'll lose my waist as he wraps arms, legs, hands and
lies
around me.
This...
is December, he found me somewhere hidden in these weeks, years ago...
he decided my fate and it doesn't snow here...
the days are all identical, the sky blinks only when she's bored and I've experienced
totality in the mocking indifference of these Southern seasons but tomorrow I'll have
goosebumps, I'll feel the chill of finality and the demise of my dreams.
He's...
broken, I've cut my hands trying to pick him up, I've smeared my blood across these
unforgiving walls and the
whispers, they echo,
I can still hear myself begging for mercy
I can still
hear
him bruise me.
My thighs ache for him, just slide themselves across the abyss of silence and my curls
scream for the intertwining of his fingertips...
my skin
drinks the dreams he shattered, thirsty, dry...
and bleeding...
for salvation.
This...
will be the last time December drops from my eyes, the sunset sits on the edge of my gaze,
I'll reward my body with the feel of him, I'll
suffer my skin and shame my lips...
as he validates my pain...
and I'll starve, as barren as the summer sun, I'll
be the tears of South Carolina
and his only
saving
grace.
Palm trees fingers stretch in the sweltering breeze,
bending over graciously,
It shelters Mr. Bluejays retreat,
Above, clouding blue skies prepare to shower,
No movement in this afternoon sauna,
Life must wait for South Carolina sun to settle.
How sweet the honey suckled air,
long summer days without a care,
(our childhood feet were always bare),
spent playing in the hot sun's glare.
On summer nights we played 'til dark,
in fields among the meadowlarks,
to us, it was a real ball park,
we left there sweaty, faces marked.
Through darkness lit with fireflies,
(like walking home through star-filled skies),
our sleep was deep, life simplified,
lulled by cricket's lullabies.
Carolina's endless summers,
filled with play and guiltless slumbers,
children free and unencumbered,
unaware our days were numbered.
©Danielle White
Turned it loose and got drunk
As a smelly old skunk
On disgusting cheap wine
In the Carolina pines
Shot guns at thin air
(Who the heck gonna' care?)
Weren't it fun, weren't it fine
In the Carolina pines?
Then we REALLY got clobbered
We staggered and slobbered
We wallowed like swine
In the Carolina pines
(In the morning we grieved
We hocked and we heaved
We whimpered and whined
In the Carolina pines)
By: tryerson
Motif: Nature