Mary Ricketson's Poem Wins First Place in the Joyce Kilmer Poetry Contest

Lost In the Roar of Big Santeetlah

I cross a wooden bridge.

A stand of dark red trillium

waits for my attention.

White violets and crested dwarf iris

sit quietly at trail’s edge.  Birdsong begins.

Butterflies dance. Jack in the Pulpit presides.

River birch, pine and poplar stand tall.

Rippling water stills my thoughts.

I can taste the wind.

Soon pink lady slipper will bloom,

then purple rhododendron.

I know every season at this forest.

I fell in love here long ago,

found comfort on this path,

met parts of me I did not know,

told secrets never spoken.

Trees made promises

then asked for mine.

I fill myself with peace and hope when I am here

then give it all away when I am gone.

written by Mary Ricketson 2011

The poetry contest is a celebration of  75th Anniversary of the dedication of Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest which is a living memorial to poet Joyce Kilmer, author of "Trees".  Kilmer was killed  during action during World War  while serving in France on July 30, 1918.

Mary Ricketson  Winning poem will  be displayed at the celebration July 30th and also will be displayed at the Stecoah Valley Cultural Arts Center throughout the month of July. 

Stecoah Valley Cultural Arts Center

121 School House Drive

Robbinsville, NC 28771

More about Poet Mary Ricketson

Mary Ricketson is a practicing poet, a mental health counselor, and a blueberry farmer living in Murphy, North Carolina.  Her poems have been published in Lights in the Mountains and in her chapbook I Hear the River Call My Name, published at Finishing Line Press (2007). Mary Ricketson  writes a column "Woman to Woman" for the Cherokee Scout. 

The Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest is a favorite place for this poet. She has walked and camped there on many occasions. Another of her poems showing a winter walk,  "At Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest" was published in ECHOES ACROSS THE BLUE RIDGE, Stories, Essays, and Poems by writers Living in and Inspired by the Southern Appalachian Mountains (2010)

POEMS BY MARY RICKETSON IN HER BIRTH MONTH - MARCH 2010

FIREFLIES by Mary Ricketson

Twinkling lights in early evening

call my name out loud. I walk

the lane to settle myself

for a long hard day of work.

A million tiny glimmers of joy

draw me farther down the gravel

road and around the curve,

past horses and houses

and gnarled locust fences.

Sparkles of the ancient insect

slip me back to a faerie ring

where magic and sacred

have been one word.

When I was four a wise old woman

took me to a child place called Fairyland

where billions of tiny lights sparkled on trees.

Magic began there for me.

A little older, I reached out,

caught a glowing lightning bug,

drawn by the spirit of its glimmer.

A hundred more quickly passed me by.

Now I am content to gaze

ito the flickinging mystery,

seeped in the ancient light potion,

softly blessed by the earth.

MONDAY NIGHT GARDEN

Dusk drops in too early.

Ater work planting puts me

in a pleasant rush.

Broccoli, collards, spincah, lettuce,

sugar snap peas

love cool, rich, dark earth

in the promise light

of still short days.

Dusk drops in too early.

Flood lights and halagen

shine on my last two rows

of persistence and patience.

Finally at nine I lay down

my shovel and my hoe.

I walk to the house

I glance back.

Good night

AT HOME ON HANGING DOG CREEK

Sun shines on purple

phlox and chigger weed.

Ticks hide in tall bush.

Dogs collect 'em only

to occupy my idle after supper

porch-settin' time.

Rhododendron hells

and dog hobble claimed

some ancient bear dog.

He didn't make it home

one blue skied autumn hunt.

Indians, time out of mind,

called this place Hanging Dog Creek.

Water rushes

over big grey rocks

disturbs fallen sticks,

collects used up roots and time,

creates cover for young trout.

Sounds carry my mid down creek.

Full moon finally peeks

over Flea Mountain.

My thoughts hang btween

sounds of bullfrog calls

as I drift off to sleep.

Three poems by Mary Ricketson

from I HEAR THE RIVER CALL MY NAME

At Amazon.com and Finishing Line Press. (2007)

Featuring Poet Mary Ricketson in March, Her Birth Month

Mary Ricketson Then and Now

Welcome to LIVING ABOVE THE FROST LINE to Ms. Mary Ricketson, of Hanging Dog, North Carolina, whose poems will be featured in March 2010, in this her birth month. (Yes, also featured this month is the poetry of N C Poet Ruth Moose. Stay posted.)

One evening I answered my phone and heard the voice of a woman asking about my creative writing class at Tri County Community College. It was Mary Ricketson. She said she had been writing and hoped she might be ready to take my class. I said, "Yes, yes." Mary took the class and I saw that she was already an accomplished writer and poet. A while later some of my students asked if I would teach a workshop on how to get a poetry book published. That was one of the highlights of my teaching career. There were six women in that class that lasted for eight weeks. It was hard work, but the program was designed to guide them in getting their poetry collection published, not self published, but to actually find a publisher who would believe in their poems and finance the publication of their book.

Mary Ricketson and the others where asked to choose a partner to work with for the eight weeks. That meant three people would proof read the proposed manuscript: the author, their partner, and myself the instructor. The poets were also asked to read their entire chapbook while it was recorded on tape. Each got comments from the group and each took their tape home with them. It worked very well for Mary Ricketson and her partner who was Glenda Barrett of Hiawassee, Georgia. A few months latere, both woman called me on the same day, both saying the same thing: "My poetry chapbook has been accepted for publication."

MANIFESTO

My body knew

before my mind

made thoughts,

before my voice

found words.

Make peace with loss.

make friends with change.

A candle flickers.

Blue light drowns

in its own flame.

Secret shards

of hope surrender.

Let me live

where crystal clear creeks

slither over small rugged rocks,

slide through the smooth,

and rain and tears are welcome

as sunlight and laughter.

Where birth and death

run the same river bed,

I run my life.

by Mary Ricketson

from I Heard the River Call My Name

Do you want to read more? If your comment

is "Yes", there will be more poems by

Mary Ricketson posted here druing the month

of March

Do you want to buy this book? I hope so.

Finishing Line Press

PO Box 1626

Georgetown, Kentucky 40324

or order on line

finishinglinepress.com

http://www.amazon.com/gp/offer-listing/1599242141/ref=dp_olp_3/103-1642903-7363836