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    Barefootin' the Country
    Barefootin' the Country
    Barefootin' the Country
    Ebook80 pages29 minutes

    Barefootin' the Country

    By Lacey Arthur

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    About this ebook

    Inspired by life experiences, Lacey Arthur's poetry focuses on relationships, family, love, education, and spirituality. Her work portrays the average person's everyday life in an almost melodious sense with regard to tone, voice, and natural rhythm. This gives her poetry a musical quality in very common language. Southern influence is evident through the use of dialect, events, and imagery. She uses wit and metaphor to create complex scenes and concepts in simple dialogue. This collection reveals not only who she is and where she's been, but what she believes.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTrafford Publishing
    Release dateJan 16, 2014
    ISBN9781490724584
    Barefootin' the Country
    Author

    Lacey Arthur

    Born the only child to married high school sweethearts, Lacey Arthur grew up in Eastern North Carolina a true southern "tomboy", very active in both team and outdoor sports. As a proud member of a very musical family, she shares the same love and actively participates with her family's singing group. She met her husband while in high school. They successfully maintained a long distance relationship and married after college. She holds two Bachelor of Science degrees in Biological Sciences with pre-med concentration and Business Administration with healthcare management concentration. She has minors in Chemistry and Creative Writing. After reading some of Lacey's work, a high school English teacher advised her to take some creative writing classes in college to sculpt her craft. Later in college a poetry professor advised her to attempt publication to share her work. Although most of her education involves healthcare, poetry has always been a cherished love.

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      Book preview

      Barefootin' the Country - Lacey Arthur

      PART I

      this road i walk

      black and white photos mark the miles

      dust burns my eyes rocks hurt my feet

      i’ll keep walking ’til it turns to gold

      through all weather patterns cold or heat

      dust dries my eyes rocks cut my feet

      there’s no pavement on this ole road

      shiver through cold sweat through heat

      no one can walk this long road for me

      there are no signs on this ole road

      no lines to guide me through the night

      no one can walk this narrow road with me

      when curves come up i’ll hug them tight

      no lines to show which way is right

      roads intersect and run parallel to me

      none but this one leads to light

      when will its end come to set me free

      roads may interrupt and mirror me

      and color photos will mark the miles

      when its end finally sets me free

      ’cause i kept walking ’til it turned gold

      Tomorrow Quatrain

      Today’s tomorrow’s yesterday,

      don’t run through it in haste,

      for yesterday is then a waste

      and tomorrow’s thrown away.

      How should a country girl’s worth be measured

      Not in terms of her physical beauty

      of which she is unaware

      but in her belief in virtue

      few do share

      For her beauty

      natural and unforced

      as fall leaves carried

      in a gently flowing stream

      Not in terms of her monetary wealth

      for which she has no care

      but in her acts of benevolence

      beyond compare

      For she gives

      of herself and time

      pricelessly imprinted

      into memories and photographs

      Not in terms of her intelligence

      so often overlooked

      but in her quick wit

      intellect overtook

      For she knows

      what is implied in wo

      that sets her apart

      from man alone

      Not in terms of her good deeds

      rarely recognized

      but in the bad ones too

      is overall goodness sized

      For she believes

      there is good and bad

      in all of us but one

      will shine true

      Fulfillment

      Impressions of feet in wet sand.

      Short strides occasionally pause

      for curious hands to pick up shells

      with which the ocean decorates its beaches,

      anxious to find something in each one.

      Stooping where waves

      only reach as high as ankles,

      and wash off sand until another step is taken.

      Eyes of deep ocean blue,

      darkest in center, lightest around edges,

      wonder if it is the shell that grows, or just what lives in it.

      Shells can change

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