Voice of the Hills

By George Daniel Stewart

People in rural mountains of southeastern Kentucky are avid about their spectator sports, especially basketball and football. A modern example: #2 Tim Couch, who was star football player in his hometown of Hyden over in Leslie County who is now playing pro football with the Cleveland Browns. By many accounts, Tim Couch played superior ball to rival Peyton Manning from the University of Tennessee as quarterback for University of Kentucky Wildcats. Thus, my playing varsity basketball (although not as popular as football) for the Evarts Wildcats at the local high school had its advantages.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 30, 2011
• ISBN: 9781257240500

Book preview

Voice of the Hills

Poetry & Prose from the Southeastern, Kentucky Coalfields

A Collection of Poems and Short Stories

By: George D. Stewart

© Copyright 2005 All Rights Reserved

ISBN 1-4137-9999-X

Dedication

To my precious mother Patricia Ann Artressia and father George A. Stewart for loving me unconditionally and teaching me to respect life and to never take anyone or anything for granted. They taught me to stand up for what I believed in and to love my neighbor regardless of there race, color, or creed. My parents instilled in me the belief that we are all God’s children and to strive for excellence through education. I love and miss you so much Mom and Dad.

And to my, my life mate George Douglas Stallard. I love you more than words can begin to express. I am truly blessed by the unconditional love you have shown me. You are my biggest fan. Thanks so much for inspiring and supporting me in everything I attempted to do.

Acknowledgements

I would like to pay tribute to all of family both living and deceased , for their valuable contributions to life -- especially my siblings Charles Gene Artressia, James Kenneth Stewart, Daryl Lee Stewart, Robert Wayne Stewart, Esther Elaine Bennett, Jeffrey Allen Stewart Sr., Peggy Sue Nienberg, Larry Joe Stewart, and Nancy Jane Stewart. I love you all more than you know. Being raised in such a wonderful family was a true blessing.

My beloved and treasured friends who profoundly and forever touched my life Michael Collins, Richard Weir, Randy Springs, Eric Swafford, Jackie Grubbs, Greg McLain, Vernon Lee Cottrell, Don & Connie West, Paul Sitting Bull Gosda, Terry Ward, Elanya Young-Wills, , Billy Jack Piatt, Troy Vogt, Dwight Powers, Bill and Nunna Hensley-See, Dr. Jerry L. Walke, Dr. Edward Miner, Terry Ward, Dock Neal, Ross Thomas, Marion Wyatt, David Williams, Jeffrey Goldsmith, David DewBerry, Randy McMillan, Dave Vanderpol, Diana Joyce King-Perkins, Jim, Phil, and Gail Storm, .

Last but not least, a special thank you to everyone at the Evarts Clover Fork Clinic especially Diane Osborne-Kelly, Jen, Sis, Renee, Dr. Rachel Eubank, Dr. J.D. Miller, and Mike Napier.

My friends and comrades, you know who you are. Thank you for being there for me.

Mrs. Tommie Ann Saragas, an inspiring teacher and coordinator at the Lindsey Wilson College School of Professional

Counseling whose articulateness and genuine love for her students is awesome. Mr. Ryan Vitatoe whose teaching technique and word pictures are beyond any abilities I’ve ever possessed. Susan Patterson, an awesome person who is both beautiful inside and out. Dr. Angelia Bryant whose strength and unconditional love for her students inspires me Dr. Daniel Schnopp-Wyatt, and Dr. Daniel Williamson who have become the major influence of my return to writing and publishing. Dr. Jeffrey Parsons and Dr. Jennifer Williamson who challenged me Cynthia Edwards, Jackie Montgomery, Dr. John Rigney, Dr.

Mary Kloth, and Brenda Houston

I’m forever in your debt. Thanks so much for passing on your knowledge to me and inspiring and supporting me in everything I attempted to do.

Last, but certainly not least to every one at Lindsey Wilson College in my undergraduate cohort.

Dawn Bala

Beth Boggs

Michael Browning

Rosa Lee Fields

Carolyn Gaines

Christina Halcomb

Allison Key

Paige Lunsford

Jennifer Marsh

Christopher Montanaro

Karen Nolan

Diana Joyce King-Perkins

Jenny Powers

Toni Trainor

April Wynn

Those in the LWC program who came before us and befriended me and profoundly touched my life

Regina Quillen

Mary Caldwell

Tammy McLain

Lori

Toni

Crystal

Each one of you touched my life in your own special way and it is a true honor and pleasure to share this awesome journey with each and every one of you.

Introduction

The man behind the pen:

by

Douglas Stallard

George D. Stewart was born in a two room ramshackle house atop Stone Mountain in the Cranks Creek community of Harlan County, Kentucky on August 3, 1959. He was raised in the coalfields of Kentucky along with six brothers and three sisters. George knew what it meant to be poor and to struggle. Times were hard, but he is a survivor. After completing high school at Evarts High School in Evarts, Kentucky, he attended Shawnee State University in Portsmouth, Ohio.

Before completing his BA degree in Human Services and Counseling, he had to return home to take care of his mother, who was suffering from the many complications of diabetes. His mother passed away on Wednesday, January, 29, 2003. He walked in her room to wake her at 7:00 AM and found her dead. Such a traumatic event shows that George is certainly devoted to family.

His father whom he was named after, taught him the value of keeping one’s word. And to stand up for what you believe is right, whether it was popular or not.

Initially, some of George’s family vehemently disagreed with his sexual orientation, but they were always loving and supportive. His parents came to believe that their son’s sexuality was innate and after some trials and tribulations, they were very supportive of his endeavors and learned to accept him fully.

In college, George wrote for the Shawnee State University newspaper The Open Air which later became known as The University Chronicle. In 1993, he became a columnist for Kentucky’s most respected GLBT newspaper The Letter where he could write about an array issues.

George met his life partner on November 14, 2003. The love of his life was from a nearby town across Pine Mountain called Whitesburg in Letcher County, Kentucky.

George has traveled extensively during his life to several different cities both in the United States and Canada and has managed to accomplish a lot in life.

George Stewart is none pretentious, and a down to earth kind of man. He is outspoken and open with his feelings and thoughts.

According to George D. Stewart, "A poem is not really finished until it is read. Then it interacts with the reader to become what it means to that particular reader. Because of this, my poems change from reader to reader. I write taking this into account. What you think one of my poems or stories means, is what it means for you.

Poetry for me has always been an expression of what was going on in my life - bled onto the paper. Expressing how I was feeling at the time. I’ve never written a poem to please another person - what I write is purely for me and if others appreciate it, then it has validity."

George is charming and has wonderful personality which attracts people to him, as a result he has managed to acquire a host of friends that love and support him. The values of his life have been instilled into him by his wonderful mother Patricia, who has stood by him and encouraged him throughout her life.

God has richly blessed and has truly guided this man to be able to write such beautiful poetry and prose. George is a self avowed gay Christian man with liberal thoughts and ideas concerning spirituality and life.

It is my fervent hope and passionate prayer that God continue to pour His blessings upon this man, for his ideas, thoughts, and beliefs and values. I hope you’ll enjoy this magnificent work as much as I have.

Entreat me not to leave thee,

Or to return from following after thee:

For whither thou goest, I will go;

And were thou lodgest, I will lodge;

Thy people shall be my people,

And thy God my God.

Where thou diest, will I die,

And there will I be buried.

--The Bible

These Things I Need

These things I’ve hungered for--books

Book to read and ponder, and friends,

Friends to talk and visit with, to be quiet with--

And the love of a man…

These things I hunger for, and need…

Lessons from the Past

In all my wanderings

I’ve gone most to my own

Those adept at hiding pain

Sometimes the rural mountain man

Does it stolid, ox-like,

Revealing scant emotion.

But I know there is a cry inside

A flute song hungering for words

And maybe a curse.

I Harlan County I eat and sleep

In the makeshift home

Of a disabled miner.

Hurt lies heavy on the house

But the deepest hurt is still unspoken.

There is a today in Harlan County--

Ghost-town mining camps

Miners who sit idle

Drawing disability checks

While machines drag coal from under the mountains

And bulldozers tear the mountain down

Mixing with cess-pool creek filth--

A today swallowed in poverty’s greedy gullet.

There was a yesterday in Harlan County

Benham, Lynch, Brookside, Dayhoit--

A yesterday with heroes, heroines and hope---

Mother Jones and the UMWA

As miners wives blocked the roads,

A with young miners shot dead

Or sealed in exploded mines….

Yes! There was a yesterday of hurt and hope and solidarity

When a virgin Union’s inspiration stirred

Mountain men and women to heroic feats.

Born on Cabin Creek, WVa, Solidarity Forever

Went on to stir lowly hearts in all parts of the land

And there will be a tomorrow in Harlan County

And across the Commonwealth of Kentucky

A clean tomorrow,

Child of hope and hurt and solidarity…

A tomorrow with equality and fairness for all..

Today, I Cry

I had a friend named Ty

He said he was bi.

We met on the street

He was really sweet.

We’d go for drinks

He’d say life stinks.

Being gay meant he’d be hated

So, it was both men and women he dated.

Although it may sound sappy

Ty was very unhappy.

Accepting he was gay

Was too high a price to pay.

Ty lived a lie

He was not bi.

The religious right

Wound his mind tight.

One night

He gave up the fight.

I think about Ty

And how hard he’d try.

He endured such pain

Hoping he didn’t die in vain.

It’s my hope

That we learn to cope.

Let us join the fight

To make things right

And end our plight.

I miss my friend Ty

And, today I cry.

Hate Beat

The lies and abuse

From practical men

Are portions of hatred

The deadliest of sin.

There’s naught to be found there

And try as you will

To justify intolerance

The great overkill.

The stuff of inequality

Is sorrow and hurt

And death, the foul player

To carry it through.

Never Forget

On strange and different roads

with struggle and strife,

clouds blackening overhead

and the deafening roar of thunder

everywhere,

I shall remember a time-

a time of singing

and a man’s eyes-

eyes that never leave me

alone…!

A Tryst to Keep

I asked the dawn if she had seen

My lover walking in the dew,

And she said yes, there had just been

One searching there, resembling you.

Then far I wandered, climbing high

The tree-topped mountains on the way

Where towering pines stretch across the sky,

But you were not on Black Mountain.

But if you ever seek again

To find and know me long and deep,

Go where there is struggle born of pain--

It is there I have a tryst to keep.

And when you come there you will know

It is yourself that you have found,

Back to the struggle you must go

For each of us to this is bound!

A Secret Key

If I could only stir the heart

Of those who labor long and hard,

Arousing there that godly spark

That makes men fight against a wrong!

If I could find a secret key

To open wide the hearts of men,

I know then that we all could see

The beauty buried there deep within!

My Hand

My hands create beauty for those who long

My heart beats twice for friends now gone

My trust in man gives hope to some

My soul’s surrounding you now that I’m gone

I’ve felt your tears

Your sorrow I see

Your life will go on

Your love sets me free

The words not said to my ears while alive

Your love if unsung plays now in my mind

Lessons of life

Made my stay here complete

Reborn once again, as a child I’ll repeat

So look not above as you remember my past

But gaze down upon children Whose hands I now grasp

A child I once was

To a child I will be

Hold close to your heart

The child that is me

My hands create beauty for those who long

My heart beats twice for friends now gone

My trust in man gives hope to some

My soul’s surrounding you now that I’m gone

I’ve felt your tears

Your sorrow I see

Your life will go

on Your love sets me free

The words not said to my ears while alive

Your love if unsung plays now in my mind

Lessons of life

Made my stay here complete

Reborn once again, as a child I’ll repeat

So look not above as you remember my past

But gaze down upon children

Whose hands I now grasp

A child I once was

To a child I will be

Hold close to your heart

The child that is me

Love

My heartbeats only for you,

The only one I love.

I know this is true,

Because it came from above.

The first time I looked into your eyes,

You filled mine with tears.

And every time we said our good-byes,

I wanted to keep holding you and rid you of your fears.

I hope now you know,

How much I care.

And I wish for our hearts to grow,

And for everyone to be aware,

That I love you,

For all that you are

A Wish For You And Me

Today!

My reflection made me cry.

It made me think of all the times

We smiled together

And held each other tight

I looked into your eyes

I searched for the answer.

Today!

These distractions made me cry.

They made me ask myself why.

I never told you,

With my heart open wide.

I’ll leave myself open.

A story for you to read

Lying alone in bed tonight

I made a secret wish A wish

for love so true.

A wish to open our hearts.

A wish for me and you…

Don’t Say You Love Me

Don’t tell me you love me

If you are not sincere!

For a lie that strong can ruin a life,

And bring on a new fear.

Fear to be loved,

Fear to ever love again.

It can cause a fragile heart

To break, tear and bend.

Image a life that will be emptied

From one small deceptive deed.

I put all of my trust within you

Please don’t say love me,

Unless you truly do.

Don’t Hide Truth

advice to a would be poet

Away with pious references

To patriotism and prayer,

As the naked child is born

Let the truth lie cold and bear!

If there is a thing to tell

Make it brief and write it plain.

Words were meant to shed a light,

Not cover it up again!

The Rain

When people think about the hard times,

They compare them to the rain.

And no matter how bad things may seem you make it through again.

And yes the rain it may seem hard, unbearable, unkind.

But there is relief, an umbrella,

The greatest story of all time.

My umbrella’s folded up, but never far away.

It’s right here at my bedside, to remind me everyday.

Jesus came to save the world, but hard times would endure.

And when he left to be with his father,

He told us about the cure.

He left us the Holy Spirit, our comforter, our peace.

And when the rain is falling down, we can seek relief.

And so now you may have guessed that storms may come and go.

But that’s all in his plan.

Just as the flower blooms in spring, I’ve been born again.

So next time the rain may fall,

Have patience it will end, it will end.

He left us the Holy Spirit, our comforter, our peace.

And when the rain is falling down, we can seek relief.

Not There

I stare at you across the room

I see your warming face

I try to see the inside you hide

Your feelings I try to embrace

I realize as I look at you

As I just sit and stare

I can see you perfectly clear

But for some reason you’re not there.

I see your eyes,

I see your face

But yet I cannot see

The loving soul that you had

I can’t see your personality

I realize how much that you have changed

How you don’t seem to care

I stare at you across the room

But yet you are not there!

Give Me A Crown

Taking the limit

Feel