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Jack Harris Poem
IT HUNG IN THE SMOKEHOUSE FOR YEARS ON END,
JUST AN OLD BLACK COAT THAT NO ONE WOULD MEND.
THE LAST ONE TO WEAR IT WORE IT IN DEATH,
HE HAD IT ON WHEN HE BREATHED HIS LAST BREATH.
MY MEMORIES OF HIM ARE WEAK AND FEW,
BUT I HEARD MANY TALES OF THE LIFE HE KNEW.
BACK IN THE THIRTIES IN EAST TENNESSEE,
JOBS WERE SCARCE AND TIMES WERE HARD FOR A FAMILY.
IN ORDER TO SURVIVE, SOME TURNED TO THE BAD
THE DEEP MOUNTAIN HOLLOWS WERE ALL THEY HAD.
THE MOONSHINE STILL GAVE HOPE FOR MEN WHO WERE DOWN
THEY MADE AND SOLD CORN WHISKEY ‘TIL OFFICERS CAME AROUND.
HE WAS CAUGHT AND PUT UNDER A PRISON GUARD BOSS
SENTENCED TO BRUSHY MOUNTAIN, IN THE HILLS OF PETROS.
HE’D ALWAYS PLAYED TUNES ON HIS OLD GUITARS
SO, DURING HIS CONFINEMENT, HE PICKED BEHIND BARS.
IN HIS TIME OF INCARCERATION, AND AWAY FROM THE ROCK-PILE
SOME AFRICAN-AMERICANS SHOWED HIM A NEW PICKING STYLE.
THEY FINGER-PICKED THE BLUES WITH A BROKEN BOTTLENECK
HE LEARNED THESE SOUNDS AS EACH TUNE HE’D COLLECT.
WHEN HE’D SERVED HIS TIME AND CAME BACK TO HIS HOME
HE HAD NO OTHER DESIRE TO RAMBLE OR ROAM.
HE MET MY WIDOWED GRANDMOTHER, THEY CHOSE TO WED
ALL HIS MISTAKES AND EARLY WRONGS, SHE HELPED HIM SHED.
FOR A FEW SHORT YEARS, THEY LABORED TOGETHER
IT WAS THEIR INTENTION TO BE FAITHFUL FOREVER.
BUT THERE CAME A NIGHT AT OUR COMMUNITY SCHOOL
WHEN AN OFFICER OF THE LAW THOUGHT HE’D BROKEN A RULE.
THOUGH THE DEPUTY WAS MISTAKEN, THE TRUTH HE REFUSED
HE RESISTED HIS DEMANDS, HE WOULD NOT BE ABUSED.
THEY STRUGGLED, A GUN WAS FIRED, THE BULLET ENTERED HIS CHEST
AN INNOCENT MAN LAY DEAD, IN HIS BLACK COAT DRESSED.
I REMEMBER THE OLD BLACK COAT WITH ITS LARGE GAPING HOLE
TO MY YOUNG AND FERTILE MIND, IT SPOKE OF A STORY TOLD.
MY GRANDMA WAS A WIDOW FOR THE SECOND TIME
AND THIS TIME IT WAS BECAUSE OF A LEGALIZED CRIME.
HE DIED IN THIRTY-NINE, WHEN I WAS ONLY FOUR
BUT I RECALL THAT NIGHT OF SORROW, IT’S A MEMORY I KEEP IN STORE.
I WOULD LIKE TO HAVE KNOWN HIM IN MY YOUNG DAYS
I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW MORE OF HOW HE CHANGED HIS WAYS.
Copyright © Jack Harris | Year Posted 2010
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Jack Harris Poem
Americans are a people who have a story
Conceived in courage, forged in glory.
With a moral idea as our unique foundation
And freedom for each as the heart of our nation.
We came to these shores from many lands
We found new strength, woven with many strands.
With cultures blended and souls that are linked
We’ve built an image that’s grand, yet distinct.
For life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness
Many gave so much, motivated by selflessness.
‘Though our skin colors vary because of our race
The color of our blood shares a common grace.
When church and state are so intertwined
That the best of each is skillfully combined,
Under God, with an imperative mission
Justice, truth and piety, as our compelling vision.
The United States, yes each Amer-I-Can
Has always stood to advance each man.
Not just those who pledge when our flag is unfurled
But all those who suffer throughout the world.
One Nation under God, we will remain
In spite of those who would bring us pain.
And in the face of those who would have us fall
We pledge our allegiance if it costs us our all!
Let’s lift our voices and gladly sing
As the bells of freedom begin to ring.
Hold forth our flag and let her wave
O’re the land of the free and the home of the brave!
Copyright © Jack Harris | Year Posted 2010
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