The Influence of Tennessee’s Landscape on my Poetry

The Journey Began from the Front Porch on a Farm in Tennessee

My journey of writing began as a child growing up on a farm in a rural town in Tennessee as I gazed upon the beauty of a picturesque landscape that encircled me from the front porch. Gathering my notebook and pen, I headed to the edge of the porch where I dreamed and dared to pen the language of my heart to paper. Any serious writer has a “sacred space” where they can leave the distractions behind, be creative and get lost in their writing.

In my childhood, this “sacred space” was the farm nestled in a valley between the rolling hills of middle Tennessee. The house was surrounded by a white wooden fence on which my favorite feathered friend, the cardinal, would often perch and sing to me. The house was built by my father’s hand after he returned home from WWII. There were and still are many memories of the farm, and that is where my journey of poetry began. 

Tennessee’s Landscape…the Beauty & Serenity that fuels the Inspiration

At the porch’s edge I would settle with books in hand, swing my legs in the breeze and dream with the jets as they flew through the distance. It was my go-to place if I needed to shed a tear, or watch a butterfly in flight, and hide my mason jar for the lighting bugs that I would catch. It was also the place from which I would listen to the beautiful melody of the whip-poor-will serenade the valley and the wooded hills.  

The beauty and serenity of the farm in Tennessee captured my thoughts in those early days of writing, and since that time as well. Tennessee’s Landscape has been a foundation of inspiration for multiple poems penned over the years. It has always proven to be the perfect backdrop from which to write.  

Falls spreads her colors on the road that winds its way back to home.

In writing this blog, it was surprising to me how many of my poems have been influenced by Tennessee’s landscape, too many to count! It would be forty years later when from that same front porch that I would pen a poem, An Era Ends, about my mother’s life.

Pen & Prose Birthed from Tennessee’s Landscape

A velvet sunset had come to grace the farm at the close of a June day. My aging mother was resting comfortably in her favorite chair in what would be the final days of her life, I heard a soft voice from within bid me into the chambers of reminiscence. The front porch would be the perfect place to take the trip down memory lane. The yellow rocking chair was still there, the white, wooden fence replaced by an updated veneer, the red rose bush in full bloom rambled its way across the shoulders of the fence.

Sunset over the rolling hills is a voice of inspiration inviting one to write, meditate and reflect on the day without the distractions of social media.

As in days past, it did not disappoint. The evening’s procession strolled down the hills and through the valley bringing songs and a pleasant aroma that I had remembered. The lingering breeze bathed my soul in peace, and from there I penned An Era Ends. I was honored to read it as part of the eulogy at the celebration of my sweet mother’s life on a beautiful Sunday afternoon in May.       

My Beloved Tennessee named as one of Tennessee’s Official State Poems

It would be a few years later when Tennessee’s landscape would once again inspire me to write My Beloved Tennessee. You can read the poem in the Home & Farm magazine at this link… https://tnhomeandfarm.com/tn-living/my-beloved-tennessee-ode-to-the-volunteer-state-considered-as-an-official-tennessee-state-poem/. On an evening in late September as I traveled on I-40 westbound from Knoxville to Nashville I was awed by the beauty of the rolling hills that stretched over the horizon. The slant of light streamed through the mist rising from the deep valley painting a beautiful Tennessee sunset. A fresh harvest of hay was spread across the vales as dusk laid her shadows over the hills. The scene engulfed my senses as the poem was birthed.

The rolling hills rise to touch the sunset, the valley waits for the mist to sweep through its chambers at the end of day.

I begin to scribble phrases on paper later that week. Like any poet, I allowed it to simmer in the chambers of creative thought for several months until My Beloved Tennessee was complete.

Several years later, I was honored and humbled when TN State Representative Dennis Powers informed me that he and other TN State Legislators would be sponsoring a bill to designate My Beloved Tennessee as one of Tennessee’s official state poems. The bill passed both houses unanimously and was signed by Governor Bill Lee on April 13, 2021.

Finally, I will share one other poem, The Hills of Home, that was influenced by Tennessee’s landscape. It was a cold afternoon in late January. The sun rested on the sturdy shoulders of the hills as I made my way from the funeral to the final resting place of a childhood friend. She had died too young. I coasted down ‘Big A” hill where time always seemed to stand still allowing my mind to travel back to the days gone by. On that particular day, I needed some extra time to grieve the loss of one of my very earliest friends in life. 

As I rounded the bend, the hills rolled out the green carpet across the valley to welcome me home. Their shadows long and deep reached out to greet me as the valley echoed their gentle whispers. My presence was a familiar acquaintance, and they were glad to have me within their gates again.

Those hills held my story, and their paths had carried my little feet. They knew my favorite place to hide when the world was unkind and had kept every secret that I had shared. It was good to be among the hills of home again for there I felt safe within their arms. As I breathed in the beauty mingled with the sadness of my loss, I penned the following poem. Enjoy the poem that was influenced by the beauty of my beloved Tennessee!    

Hills of Home

These hills could talk for me

For they have watched me grow,

Their pages hold my story,

And now they see me growing old.

They remember my feet

Upon the path that leads home,

To that place yonder and sweet

Where the memories had been sown.

They have heard the voices blend,

Both young and old, through the years

And greeted both strangers and friends

Amid the rain of laughter and tears.

With joy they watched me soar

To spread my wings across the sky,

But left for me an open door

Without ever asking why.

Like a faithful friend they watch me come,

Down the hill and round the bend

To say goodbye to those precious ones

As my heart would break and rend.

Gently, they still call my name

To come with my little pale

To pretend that all is still the same

As I gather the flowers in the vale.

Someday these hills will talk for me

When the new world unfolds,

Their pages hold my story

And someday must be told.