September 7, 2012
Pictured (from left) are the winners of the fifth annual Northeast Texas Poetry contest: Samantha Trickey of Mount Pleasant (student honorable mention), Matthew Jordan of Pittsburg (student second place), Andrea Necole Wells of Daingerfield (student honorable mention), Jesse Rivera of Mount Vernon (student fourth place), Ann Reeves of Pittsburg (adult second place), Ricky Huitema of Pittsburg (student first place), Lauren Shortnacy of Mount Pleasant (adult first place), and Jacob Brantley of Daingerfield (student third place).†
† † †The Fifth-Annual Northeast Texas Poetry Reading was recently held at the Whatley Center for the Performing Arts at Northeast Texas Community College. The event, sponsored by Elliott Auto Group in Mount Pleasant, celebrated the work of students and community members.
† † †Top selections from the contest were read aloud by the poets. This year's winners in the student category were: Ricky Huitema †of Pittsburg, first place; Matthew Jordan of Pittsburg, second place; Jacob Brantley of Daingerfield, third place; and Jesse Rivera of Mount Vernon, fourth place. Lauren Shortnacy of Mount Pleasant won first in the adult category and Ann Reeves of Pittsburg won second.†Contest winners received cash prizes. Reeves donated her winnings back to NTCC to benefit the Campaign for the Whatley.
† † †"'Northeast Texas' as a region distinct from 'East Texas' has received some corroboration from historians such as Walter Buenger, and writers such as George Shafer," Dr. Andrew Yox, NTCC Professor of History and Honors Director, said. "This year's poetry contest made clear that many in our area appreciate the luxury of being Texans, while at the same time enjoying the thunderstorms, trees, lakes, quiet glades, and small towns,that abound in our region."
† † †For more information about the Northeast Texas Poetry Contest, please contact Yox at 903-434-8229. †Below are the winning poems in their entirety:
As the Morning Sun ? 1st Place Student
By Ricky Huitema
As the morning sun rises over the tree
Long shadows are cast down on me
Life is abundant all around
Horses graze in the meadows
Ignorant of all the affairs of life
A turtle rests on a log
Basking in the sun to warm its? blood
While a crane waits in the shallows
Hoping to catch the unwary minnow
In a meadow greened
By the abundant summer rain
The sun has been a friend
During the summer months
The grass grows violently
To prepare for the next cutting
A lone cedar stands
In the center of the field
Strong and tall
Is it has for many a year
An old fence that has seen better days
Is overtaken by trees
The rusted wire has a few more years.
Now the forest where the destruction
Of the previous year can be seen
Old trees leafless
Thick bark is cracked and falling off
Limbs crash down
With those that have went down
What once could not be moved
Has fallen over
King of the forest no more
Life moves with the season
The mild temperatures made
One perfect summer
Bountiful rains
All but erase the terrors
Of fire that plagued the land
The year before
The Lord has showered
His blessing once again
Over the land
The Treasure of Northeast Texas ? 2nd Place Student
Matthew Jordan
There comes a time of year
when Northeast Texas reveals her euphoric allure.
The treasures of the region are expressed only for a season.
Fall manifests her inner beauty across the Northeast Texas region,
like a rainbow across the woodland's canopy,
as she follows the Autumn trail.
Winter creeps his way into Texas,
searching for the mysterious treasure
at the end of Fall's rainbow.
Winter's search began to grow cold
when he reached Lake O' the Pines,
where the pine trees are all that remain.
It was not until this moment
that Winter discovered the hoax.
He discovers all the treasures
have fallen to the forest floor,
and the search froze entirely
for only a couple of days.
Spring gently arrives to the Piney Woods,
with her emerging daffodils and magical naked ladies.
She develops an early season cold
due to Winter's frozen search for the treasure.
She sneezes across all of Northeast Texas,
as yellow pollen settles on every surface.
All too soon
Summer encroaches upon Spring,
bringing his unpleasant allergies
from the pine pollen of the Piney Woods.
He develops a relentless, humid temperature
as if enduring in a living hell.
Fall returns to Northeast Texas,
concerned for Summer's wellbeing,
and comforts him with cool, crisp mornings.
She covers the canopy with a rainbow of fall colors
to rescue him from his devitalized condition.
The treasures of Northeast Texas have returned.
The Valley of The Oak
-A Ballad of Northeast Texas-† - 3rd Place Student
By Jacob Brantley
The charred oak, oppressing all upon its spread with its overcast shade,
Inadvertently offering a haven to every weed lucky enough to escape Apollo's wrath.
Forgotten fence posts, disfigured and melted by Father Time himself,
Supports barbed wire whose rust stands testament to the many thunderstorms--
Whose water surrenders the only respite from summers rivaling Dante's descent.
And whose bite decorated the guardian hardwood.
This land, engineered for the hardy.
For once the tilt quells the dog day?s rein,
The frost seems to immediately clasp the land to its bosom.
A new scene of ice, snapping limbs in the valley of the oak,
Exchanges the mascot from bovine to stag.
Nights render the land brittle, grass unable to resist the crunch from those who dare tread,
the danger disguised as beauty; its cold embrace ensnares any unwary,
And lulls them into a security undeserved.
A coyote howls tribute to this law before bracing over its fallen long-eared prey.
A fierce land indeed.
But conquered by us through traditions passed down,
Even a paradise for those who know the secrets from whispers of years passed,
The secret of the seasons of waxing and waning life, the rising and falling of leaves,
Fleeting, but a breath in the story of the valley of the oak.
Perhaps a fortnight?s calm among the cycling storm,
But time earned even by those who shrink indoors from the valley's cruelty.
Growth, passing, and celebration; much is crammed into the decent days-
Days void of the unsolicited sweat or Jack Frost's breath.
Spring and autumn--one always around the bend,
Bane to its harshness, and hero to the valley of the oak.
Born from the Dust ?† 4th Place Student
by Jesse Rivera
Born from the dust
In a country broken
By idolatry to death it?s self
I escaped the jaws of inevitable poverty
By coming to the land of freedom
The land where in God we trust
But now
The country?s grown corrupt
The rich wage war
But it?s the poor who die
They no longer fight for freedom
They fight for oil and gold
Then make laws
To suit their malicious ways
They rewrite marriage
And bend morals
Then rejoice in their mischief
As the media differentiates
Right from wrong
And an honors student
Goes postal idolizing
A fictional villain
And babies have babies
Because they where never taught
How to wait
But rejoice in their mischief
But when a drought
Engulfs the country like a tidal wave
And fields of crops feed plagues
The rich go hungry and the poor starve
Currency loses value
And the country breaks
In their torment
They remember their creator
And they shout
? Where is God?
Why has he abandoned us? ?
So I answer
?How dare you ask
Where is God
When you?ve done all you can
?To take him out of
Your schools, court houses
And public buildings
?God has not abandoned you
You have abandoned God ?
No Place Like Home ? 1st Place Adult
By Lauren Shortnacy
As my car approaches that ?Welcome? sign, I look out my window and I?m reminded of a familiar paradise.
Never ending golden fields where the cattle and horses mingle and pay you no mind as you pass them by.
A place where woods stretch abundantly for the eyes to see, and the young at heart dare to walk among the coyotes.
Where secrets lie beneath the deep waters of the lake and the fish and crawdads have untold tales to share.
A place where smells of fresh cut hay greet you with familiar scents you thought you had forgotten.
Whispers of warning and late night adventures echo through the trees and tunnel of
Bluelight Cemetery.
A place where the weather changes its mind more than a worrying bride deciding what frosting she will use for her wedding cake. Hot summers in October and winters in March, how I missed the uncertainty of what the Texas weather would bring.
Walking along the old railroads realizing there are mysteries beneath the stones no one will ever truly know.
Why did I ever leave this place of untold stories and memories? When did my heart lose its love for the small town that I grew up in?
For the constant routine of familiar faces passing you by in the aisles of the family grocery store one can never shop without seeing the whole town.
Where you met your lifelong friend on the school playground that first day of school.
A place where you journeyed on some back road with that first love and let the crickets sing their lullabies as you get lost in each other?s arms.
With every shade tree, along the railroads, on the school playgrounds, and right in Momma's kitchen we are creating a history. A story that will be told time after time, and cherished with each year that passes it by.
Maybe that's why I left this place and tried to find a new mystery to entertain my country eyes. To get away from the typical tame day and finally make some secrets of my own no one would know about. Then again, when the unknown is solved and the secrets are revealed, what was left behind was missed.
So here I am looking out my window reminding myself of what I left.
I gaze at the streets to where my life began, where it has always belonged, and where it will end.
Whatever adventures I seek outside this little town, one thing is certain...
There is truly no place like home.
This Corner ? 2nd Place Adult
By Ann T. Reeves
And yet again I leave
And I am bereft
And longing to keep my feet
Nestled in the red, sandy loam that
Nurtures my life.
Of my life, seventy-seven years
Of luxuriating in the beauty,
Of looking up to the tall pines
And oaks whose life numbers
Accompany my own.
My own is belonging in this corner.
My own is having roots akin to the Deep South.
My own is speaking and hearing the soft vowels.
The soft vowels spoken in this corner of Texas.
This corner of Texas so unlike any other in my State.
Mistake me not, travelling is in my blood.
Mistake not the joy and wisdom attained elsewhere.
Mistake not the thrill of Greece, Japan and many others,
But they are not home.
Believe me, they hold not my heart in their hands.
Northeast Texas has arms that lovingly caress me.
Nowhere and nothing else can give me that love.
No other love has the beauty of this sandy land.
Oh, yes, I am a named a Texan.
Oh, but this corner is my life.
