Welcome to the Poets Corner

This site is dedicated to all the poets of Pendelton County, past & present.  If you are a poet or if you have poems written by Pendletonians, please submit them and have them published here.

Trials of a New Millennium
by
Minnie Mae Miller Vessing

As I set thinking with a weary mind
Some thoughts gentle, some thoughts not so kind
How many people are in this world
They say it takes all kinds
To make up the universe
The hatred that some feel in their hearts
Never wanting to forgive
Or seeing the peace that they could give
By getting along and sharing
With their brothers
Only thinking of themselves
Not their fathers and mothers
Or sisters and brothers
It’s always what is in it for me
Maybe they should search for a Family Tree
And as they search, don’t look for wealth
But of how our ancestors must have felt
With the toil of their hands
The bending of their back
They toiled from daybreak
Until it was dark of night
Some had little, but they were proud
For they were thankful for what they had
They strived each day to survive
And thank God they were alive
Today so much is provided
And yet each one wants more
A child is handed opportunities of many things
If only they had to re-live
The life style of ancestors of long ago
May be the boredom, they would not know
The saddest thing they could bare
As ancestors before us
For they had more than their share.

Copyrighted by Minnie Mae Miller Vessing

January 2000

YOUR NAME 

It came from your father,
It was all he had to give,
So it's yours to use and cherish
As long as you may live.
If you lose the watch he gave you
It can always be replaced,
But a black mark on your name, son,
Can never be erased.
It was clean the day you took it
A worthy name to bear,
When I got it from my father There was no dishonor there.
So make sure you guard it wisely
After all is said and done,
You'll be glad the name is spotless
When you give it to your son.

Copied from "The Marquette Story" by Kenneth Marquette

A Prayer for Genealogists 

Lord, help me dig into the past
And sift the sands of time,
That I might find the roots that made
This family tree of mine:
Lord, help me trace the ancient roads
On which my fathers trod,
And led them through so many lands
To find our present sod.

Lord, help me find an ancient book
Or dusty manuscript,
That's safely hidden now away
In some forgotten crypt;
Lord, let it bridge the gap that haunts
My soul when I can't find
The missing link between some name
That ends the same as mine.

(Author unknown)

The following poems were written by Edith Pfanstiel Daugherty in 1919.  They have been generously transcribed and submitted by her daughter, Dotty Williams.  Thanks Dotty!

DeMossville, Ky.

July 1, 1919  
  

Dear Cousin,  

A letter to you I thought  I'd send.

If you to me your attention lend,

and have the patience to read every line

before you either sleep 0r dine.  

This is Tuesday the third day of the week,

but it's about Friday I'm going to speak,

of the picnic that's going to be

under the shade of the maple tree.  

Of the ones that are going to attend

and all their aid to the picnic lend,

of salmom surrounded by lettuce leaves

made by a girl in rolled up sleeves.  

Ice cream too, there'll be,

and a chocolate cake made by me.

Sandwiches that were made by Nancy,

will please even Nell's delicate fancy.  

Pickles and cake, Gladys will take,

and other things too, handsomely baked,

Florence and Lillian will be there too,

but what they'll bring I can't tell you.  

All this Nancy told me when she was leaving

the store last Saturday evening,

and other things too, she said would be

under the shade of the great oak tree.  

A few more will be there, including all

who will come to this our picnic ball.

And when an old, old woman you be,

remember the picnic under the tree.    

The games you played,the songs you sung,

and prizes that your quickness won,

of the things you ate, including peas

and potatos and salmon in lettuce leaves.  

  Edith Pfanstiel Daugherty

Age 15

LICKING RIVER

   Oh river slowly winding

in and out among the hills

with thy ever ceaseless flowing

over rocks and rills.  

Oh river of Kentucky

that calls us back to you

where the sun is ever shining

and the sky is always blue.  

Oh pride of old Kentucky

unchangeless with the years

the river that we love

the object of our fears  

Oh river of our dreams

how beautiful to be

upon thy shimmering surface

and there the moon to see.  

How it shines across the water

with a gleaming silver light

like a broad white pathway

leading toward the right.

h how beautiful t'would be

if darkness n'er did come

but always there the moon beam

or light of shining sun.

  How beautiful if we could see

the beauty day and night

and darkness never hide thee

entirely from our sight.

  Oh how much our lives are like thee

with here and there the light

and then across our pathway

comes the dark of night.

  Never fear the shadows

never go astray

for always there's the sunshine

to chase the night away.

Edith Pfanstiel age 15
   
DeMossville, Ky.
1919

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