Dixon Poems

Ay Be Ay

It's a Dixon Ticonderoga HB#2
This pencil, still my favorite, 
Still ties me back to you.

I'm so distant as of late,
In my mind, in my heart,
It seems there's too much on my plate.

I've been selfish in my time
And stingy with myself,
Thinking I'm passed my prime.

I don't know who I am
Now who you ever were
Nor who we should've been.

Anxiety is crippling me
Today is not my day again
Nor is any next day I foresee.

I'm tired of being here.
I want to, please, go home
Before home turns into fear.

Remind me who I'm not
By showing me who you are
All the demons I have fought.

Aftermath

It was the selfish men who tore the country apart,
For they had no love for Lincoln nor people at heart.
A line called Mason Dixon was keeping both sides apart, 
And in 1861, the Civil War battles began to start.

In 1865, a  peace mandate was finally brought in, 
But  Black's down in the South had not forgotten.
It was the end of slavery and elite slave trade plottin',
When  former slaves told their masters, "Go pick your own damn cotton".

The Pious Pelican

Myth of the peculiar pelican
Whose bill bloodies its feathery breast
Feeding blood to the chicks in its nest
Ancient acts ever evangelic
Sole sacrifice for the pelican
Whose beak speaks more than a relic can






36 Words  6 Lines  Light Verse
Pelicans appear in Christian iconography
as symbols to verify Christ's self-sacrifice.
Attributions to Dixon Lanier Merritt
(often mistakenly credited to Ogden Nash)
for authorship of the popular Pelican Limerick.

Bite Size Poem No. 16
Sponsor: Line Gauthier

Panaroma of a Drama With Stamina

saw panorama
of slavery  as a drama
sharing stamina

in states which are red
away from we quickly sped
stay would rather be dead

what we always need
fire burn bright when we feed
from slavery be freed

did have much anguish
Mason Dixon does distinguish
what we relinquish

it is our belief
our slavery we want relief
from suffering and grief

West Virginia's Birthday - June 20th

West Virginia, my beloved home state
East of the Mississippi
South of the Mason-Dixon Line
Thirty-Fifth State of the Union. *

Verdant fields and vast woodlands
Intersected by broad, rushing rivers,
Resplendent with towering mountains.
Gem of tourists and outdoor adventurers,
Individualism and independence prized,
National treasure
In the heartland of the
Appalachian Mountain region.

Written June 20, 2021, West Virginia’s 158th birthday
[*West Virginia was made a state by proclamation of
President Abraham Lincoln on June 20, 1863. It is the
only state created by a presidential proclamation.]

The Pain of Stars and Stripes

It has been said that pain is
a conversation waiting to be had.
If that is so, there’s so much to share:

Today, the term the United States
is on the road to becoming less and less
an applicable synonym for America.

Reigning division and separatism
seem to be the new twin watch-words
describing this discordant nation.

Today, the old Mason-Dixon Line
has been replaced; yet of the tri-color
flag, white remains supreme; red and blue
identifying her divisive demarcations.

Black, brown and yellow sprinkle
in the circles thereof and polarization
of color again sums up the political times.

That all men are created equal
was a worthy pen; such words, however,
have yet to become a living reality.

It has been held that what goes around
soon comes back around—if the circle
is not broken.  Yet it is also held true
that a bubble blown beyond its limits
will surely burst and dissipate into vapor.

Insult--

scornful,  abusive
you speak,  treat with disrespect 
giving cause offense

rude cause of my face
called me names, other than James
defame militate

it’s cause my skin brown
bad-mouth cast aspersions on
this went on and on 

nineteen seventy
disparage, jailed in small town
cause my step-brother

tried to steal rifle
from off a Gun store wall yes
I was innocent

was called everything
from  N**ER, yawh, boy nobody…
I sure was insulted 


all but child of God
prejudice and rage surfaced
never ask my name

below the Mason
Dixon Line in a small town 
I was just INSULTed


10/25/19
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Written for  NORTH OMAHA WRITING GROUP (NOW)
Wip writing assignment

Poem Syllable Counter Results

Syllables Per Line:	
5 7 5 0 5 7 5 0 5 7 5 0 5 7 5 0 5 7 5 0 5 7 5 0 0 5 7 5 0 5 7 5
Total # Syllables: 136

My Fairy Tale Story

Maybe I am pessimistic
you might say I'm not realistic

Finally my true love appeared
after waiting all these years...
it did happen
right before my eyes
yes, he was a prince in disguise

True loves
always arrive on time...
looking to be in their prime 
evident in all the rhymes

Seems my Prince Dixon
took up with Lady Vixon
on his way to me
right or not he needs fixin'
you certainly must agree

June 20, 2018


Fairy Tale Contest by Alexis Y.

It Took a Lincoln, Warts and All

Abraham Lincoln was America's Unexpected Jesus
Booth spilled this stream of blood along the Mason-Dixon line
Calls for forgiveness and reunion since the Gettysburg Address
Did bring out the better angels of our natures in 1865
Eventually celebrated in Memorial Day since 1866
Few nations in civil wars or uncivil, have a Lincoln or Jesus

I Pleaded the Fifth

There's a story from Dixon
About some ole drunk
Who came in the courtroom
Drunk as a skunk

When asked by the judge
Sir how do you plea
He pulled out a 5th 
And said this ones on me

Unsure what he meant
The judge threw him in jail
Without that ole bottle
Without chance of bail

When his attorney asked him
Why cause such a rift
He simply stated
I pleaded the fifth

When word of the meaning
Got back to the judge
He released him the same day
It caused such a buzz

All the people in town 
Still chomp at the bit
To tell the story of Barney
And how he pleaded the fifth

Unsure what he meant
The judge threw him in jail
Without that ole bottle
Without chance of bail

When his attorney asked him
Why cause such a rift
He simply stated
I pleaded the fifth

The day Barney died
The judge came to grieve
Said here you go Barney
This ones on me

So if you pass through Dixon
Or just stop for a bit
You'll hear the story of Barney
And how he pleaded the fifth

When the judge found it funny
He chose to acquit 
And old Barney won 
When he pleaded the fifth

Growing Up Down In the South

Just North of South Carolina 
Is where this country boy was born
All I really cared in those growing years
Was the running through woods kind of fun

Those days I fondly remember 
There's no way you can bad mouth the South
With water up to our knees chasing crawfish in creeks 
And anything else nature would allow

Even squirrel hunting as younguns 
So my Granny could make us a pie
No secret better kept than eating straight off the land
Whether it was squirrels or apples to find
Granny always made delicious pies 

Always in church every Sunday 
Paying the Lord his due respects
For all that we have and all that he gives
Plus for the forgiveness of sins

Then after church when there weren't no chores
We'd kiss and tell our parents goodbye 
They'd not see us again till we heard the bell ring
Come about supper time

There's something that's to be said about being a kid
Growing up down in the South 
Where there's no better time below the Mason Dixon line
But that you'd have to find out for yourself

Roadkill Vittles

Driving along
What's that I smell
The daily delight
Of the latest roadkill

From raccoons to possums
In this flattened cuisine
As vultures take lunches 
On this finest of dining

Call us the critter getters 
Crossing over our paths
Taking them out
As they scurry this way and that

From Bambi to Thumper
And all their forest friends
It does make you wonder
Who you'll run into next

We'll even take out the curious
Who wander on
To that portion of blacktop
To see what's going on

From teetotaling turtles 
To slithering snakes
There's not a creature out there 
That we won't pancake

So check out the roadkill
If there's still twitch after the thump
Hurry in back
And toss it into the trunk

Because down in the South
There ain't no one can say
That any of us country folk
Let a thing go to waste

Below the Mason Dixon line
If it's fresh enough
We'll take it home ya'll
And have it for lunch

As long as it's fried
There ain't a thing
With cheese grits on the side
That we won't eat

My Destination

So many interstates have I endured
South of the Mason-Dixon
Where cotton fields and swamps and Jesus saves
Upon my eyes wind up fixing.
Towns feel so familiar,
Yet I've never taken their exit.
Cities equal more time spent
Escaping the ugly edifice.
As a child, dreams filled the ride
As we made off for our destination.
Now, familiar music tags along
As I criss-cross this great nation.
In forty years, we've come a long way.
The rebel yell begins to fade,
But my destination will remain
Southward where I'll be sipping tea in the shade.

Missing the South

Seeing the mosses hanging from the trees. 
Feeling the warm and gentle breeze. 
Smell that fragrant scent from the magnolia trees. 
Touch the rich soil tha lies beneath my feet. 
I hear a rhythm and blues melody that sounds so sweet.
I miss those things that are so fine.
Let me go back below the Mason-Dixon Line. 
The south is the place I used to call home. 
I want to return there and no longer roam.

inspired by another member's poem

The Gold Rush

They must have thought that I was brought here to do the numbers....
Ninty-nine's einsteinium square dance razzle dazzle then you shuffle a masque ?
Halloween arrived although ushering in an unknown, mutation towards 
These centripetal forces ? Ancient's prophecy to bring into fold of trembling 
Foretold standing at their threshold love's thresher; combatant the messenger
If all else shall fail ? Indubitable, unto His heavens as her Angels whom know..
Quietus with hands full of good tidings this heart and a golden marionette ?
Crossing inevitables Mason-Dixon line; cyber space Spirits humanity; poetics Waterloo.

• Short Dixon Poems
• Famous Dixon Poems
• Best Dixon Poems
• Read Dixon Poems
• Long Dixon Poems
• Dixon Quotes