Baton Rouge, Louisiana

Living in a suburb,
he enjoys the hot humid summers
and the cold snowless winters.
He wears loose shirts
and blue jeans.
He smells the fresh air
as he plays around at school.
He runs around during summer
at summer cap with all the other kids.
In a car and pick-up,
he rides to school
and he rides to "the office" during summer.
Playing through, soccer,
baseball, and other sports,
his time in school was spent with these teams.
During the night
on every second day of the week,
he takes part in the martial arts he looked up to so much.
He loves the sno-cones vendor,
at the end of the road.
He shouts in joy at the amusement park and water rides,
both connected by a single bridge.
At nights you'll find him watching cartoons
and playing various videogames.
On weekends, he spends his time with friends,
and watches tv with his family.
Getting teeth cleaned by his mom,
and swimming with his dad,
he cares for both of them intensely.
The places he goes to seem so big
yet in truth are rather small.
Though the times spent here
some would consider simple and bland,
he loves them more then anyone else.


I chose to capture the 13 years I spent being born and raised in Louisiana before I moved to Kentucky. Although I spent most of my time at a number of small areas on the city, I always felt like each place had so much in it and felt so big. I felt that describing my times here in this city best showed what I felt the place was like. Even with the land there being flat and the seasons being not all that varied, I enjoyed every bit of my time playing there.
-Trevor

Arthur Illinois

He’s simple

and wants for nothing

except for his family and farm.

Levis and work boots are his daily uniform.

He finds peace in the fields

and in his home.

He has amish blood,

although he no longer practices.

He goes to church every Sunday because

that’s what you’re supposed to do.

It was his grandfather’s farm,

then his father’s, now his,

and one day will be his son’s.

His children play sports because

that’s what they’re supposed to do,

and he’s never missed a game.

And on Fridays at seven ‘o’clock

 he leaves the field early

to cheer on the only team he knows.

He likes to stay in the comfort

of the 1.5 square mile radius.

Where on Saturdays he goes to

breakfast at 4 a.m., then

the bank down the street.

He loves that it always stays the same,

and the local businesses never die.

Where he still sees store windows

painted for the homecoming game,

and the local newspaper is the only one he needs.

He doesn’t pay attention to

the local gossip;

though he knows it’s an epidemic.

He has suspicions

of what his children are doing

on the weekends.

But he chooses to ignore them

and leave it to his wife.

He gets involved in disagreements

only when unavoidable.

The crops are his main concern,

and he depends on the local

weather reports.

He knows the local politics, and

he knows which farms are his

friends,

and which are rivals.

These rivals cause

bad blood between families,

over simplest misunderstandings.

He didn’t go to college.

He didn’t need to.

He knows he’ll never leave,

or change.

And he doesn’t want to.

He supports his children,

but wants them to

eventually return.

Because his family is everything.

And though he can take

a little change,

ultimately he wants

everything to stay the

same.

            I come from a very small, rural town in central Illinois. The population of my town is 2,200 people, and farming is a way of life. Though my dad doesn’t farm, when I thought of personifying my town, I thought it was only appropriate to choose a farmer because our crops are what drive our small economy. My town never changes, and the local restaurants and shops have been there for as long as I can remember. It’s also important to mention that my town has one of the largest Amish populations in the country, which definitely makes my town unique.

Nicholasville, Kentucky

Bleeding blue just a few miles away,

she wears the UK symbol

close to her chest.

A new shirt with blue jeans.

Keds, she always wears her white tennis shoes.

Oh yes, and a banana clip

the “big city: Lexington” shopper that she is.

She’s got a fresh fake tan on her

face it with a light pink puckered lip.

She’s put her weekend gear on.

Time spent away from her teacher role

it is a stressful one but momma did it too.

She walks out of her two story ranch home

a beautiful place of refuge from the world- shelter.

She takes her children out.

She drives her two kids

one boy and one girl.

A minivan and a great big smile.

She jumps out with her high heels on and sees him

looking at her.

She catches herself feeling uneasy at

misunderstanding meets ignorance.

Black skin she doesn’t understand

since the foreigners never looked like her

“they”  traveled to the Seminary in Wilmore.

She never met “them” on her country club cul-de-sac.

She has the perception she may be misunderstood

Her hair undone sleeping with make-up on.

Staying close to gossiping queens

Unfortunate for her the world is too small

the next city big.

She stops to read the text book

and waits for her mom to give her advice.

She looks out the window and doesn’t understand.

She is broken by the world and scared by her past.

If you wait for her to tell you who she is

she may be caught up between “expectation and small town street”.

She wants more without knowing what she wants

and isn’t sure what she has been missing.

She may just be content in living

disconnected from “outsiders” and “others”…

She waits patiently

serving, loving, and doing the same routine.

Never asking questions bliss seems to be

held in the unknown

the misguided

and uninterrupted face of suburbs.

She smiles at her neighbors and longs for true connections

in a place where her heart

can be full and free.

This characterization describes the city I went to school in growing up of Nicholasville. My memories of childhood friend’s mother’s inspired my interpretation of “small town life” neighbors “big city Lexington” on the map. Although diversity has seeped into this community slowly growing up there was extreme segregation. This writing describes what I feel the “mood” of the place at the peak time I spent there. 

-Caroline

Harlan County

She’s got a braid in her hair,

some country boots,

and a sweet scent.

She loves these mountains,

her momma,

and a glass of sweet tea.

You’ll find her

in those mountains,

on the fourwheeler,

with a gun,

or just resting by the creek.

Country music on the radio

with all of her friends

by the fire with a beer.

She’s got the heart

of a fighter and

the soul of a gypsy.

In that jacked up truck

riding shotgun and feet out the window

they don’t slow down for nothin’.

She was raised there in those mountains

and she’s got moonshine in her veins.

Southern hospitality

on her table,

she knows her manners.

Raised right.

She don’t go out

without wavin’ and honkin’

everybody knows her name.

That Southern drawl

will steal your heart

faster than you can blink.

She can bait a hook

and she can load a gun.

Friday night football games

Saturday night bonfires

Sunday morning churches.

She’s got a little bit of devil

in her angel eyes.

She loves them coal miners

keepin’ her lights on.

Flyin’ down a backroad

she hates them city lights.

There ain’t never

a line or a red light

thats too long.

She’s got tan legs

frayed blue jeans

and her shirt tied up just right.

There ain’t nothin

as deep as those hills she’s in.

Cruisin’ the Walmart parking lot

the movies

or just the bypass.

She can hold her own.

She’s a lover

but if you do her wrong

boy, she can be a fighter.

Football makes her crazy

and so does whiskey.

Them city boys

they love her accent

but she don’t like theirs.

She’ll work hard

and you can bet

she won’t stop.

On the lake

is where she wants to be

tanning or fishing or relaxin’

but that comes after work.

She’s always got

that cute little grin

and a kiss that tastes just right.

She’s got a big heart

and she talks slow and sweet.

You might call

where she’s from bloody

but to her

it will always be home.

Harlan.


I was born and raised in Harlan County, KY. It's a very small town Southeast from here, and it's all mountains. There's nothing to do, but we all made the best out of it every day. From football games to bonfires to just being there for each other, me and my friends lived it up there in those hollers and backroads. People have a lot of negative things to say about Harlan, but to me, it is my heart and my home. I'm proud to be a Southern Belle.

Camera Eye (I): Wasted

red solo cups were just about everywhere   so many of them that if you and I were to cross our eyes there would be a red blur surrounding us   amounts of alcohol one would consume before knowing the limits  

underage     hearing nearby conversations  LOL I am the fly on the wall  cautiously observing every detail

         mans hands touch and grab a lady’s body without her response under the influence so heavily   no thinking for herself    fondled with   taken advantage of perhaps later in the night   sex

  waking up in bed with some stranger   frightened  recalling every memory possible from the night before   no luck

                           life of disarray   don’t   shhhh     sit your cup down                             the bowl containing gallons of alcohol rested upon the stove   frat boys          sleazy girls  NOOO everyones trying to get lucky

         i watch it take place from afar   pouring a mysterious vile in the “punch bowl”     drugs ?   sip sip       dancing reckless like no ones watching     but I am

outrageous giggles over nonsense beats on my ear drum heavy and loud             drink this  chugging   woah alcohol stains on that guys clothing    peoples   reeked of the smell 

                  stumbling through the crowd    friends  why are you drinking so much       now she is dancing with the guys and secretly laughing with   strange girls    foreign liquids get mixed   eventually tossed down the throat and  down to the stomach

nausea   I hear   please come with me                        my hand is quickly grabbed and pulled in direction    weaving through the crowd   parting the RED SEA (solo cups  everywhere)                     forceful she opened the door                   feeling sick  she leaned   on the toilet   the music blaring   we have to scream to hear eachothers thoughts

         drunk  not I         he fell and lied there for a moment  on his feet again                                    vigorously dancing    tight low cut shirts that all those    damn  frat boys eyes    clung too

red solo cups were just about everywhere   so many of them that if you and I were to cross our eyes there would be a red blur surrounding us   amounts of alcohol one would consume before knowing the limits  

underage     hearing nearby conversations  LOL I am the fly on the wall  cautiously observing every detail

         mans hands touch and grab a lady’s body without her response under the influence so heavily   no thinking for herself    fondled with   taken advantage of perhaps later in the night   sex

  waking up in bed with some stranger   frightened  recalling every memory possible from the night before   no luck

                           life of disarray   don’t   shhhh     sit your cup down                             the bowl containing gallons of alcohol rested upon the stove   frat boys          sleazy girls  NOOO everyones trying to get lucky

         i watch it take place from afar   pouring a mysterious vile in the “punch bowl”     drugs ?   sip sip       dancing reckless like no ones watching     but I am

outrageous giggles over nonsense beats on my ear drum heavy and loud             drink this  chugging   woah alcohol stains on that guys clothing    peoples   reeked of the smell 

                  stumbling through the crowd    friends  why are you drinking so much       now she is dancing with the guys and secretly laughing with   strange girls    foreign liquids get mixed   eventually tossed down the throat and  down to the stomach

nausea   I hear   please come with me                        my hand is quickly grabbed and pulled in direction    weaving through the crowd   parting the RED SEA (solo cups  everywhere)                     forceful she opened the door                   feeling sick  she leaned   on the toilet   the music blaring   we have to scream to hear eachothers thoughts

         drunk  not I         he fell and lied there for a moment  on his feet again                                    vigorously dancing    tight low cut shirts that all those    damn  frat boys eyes    clung too

feeling confused and lost     why I thought  at times my eyes couldn't believe what I saw, heard, smelt, tasted and felt 

                  wasted

                  

This Camera Eye gives in details what I experienced going to my first college party. I was paranoid it would get busted, or I would become separated from my friends. I observed almost everything, cause I wanted a good idea on what was taking place.