Sponsored by Workhorse, Lexington Poetry Month is an easy to use
platform for poets to publish and share their work in an attractive
way. The community is supportive and diverse, commenting and
encouraging one another throughout June. Money we raise goes
to maintaining the cost of the website and publishing the yearly
anthology. Our goals are to provide every poet (~150) a copy of
the anthology, lower printing costs, and expand opportunities
offered during Lexington Poetry Month, such as featured readings
and poetry workshops.
The hills remember what hands and machines tried to forget— veins of coal once pulsing beneath their ribs, black gold pulled like secrets from the earth.
Mountains stood older than sorrow, soft with laurel and dogwood bloom, until steel teeth carved their shoulders down, until the wind carried dust where birds once sang.
They took the dark from deep inside, left daylight raw and exposed— a body emptied, hollered out, echoing with the sound of what used to be.
Creeks run thinner now, tracing paths through broken stone, and the land wears its scars openly, not ashamed, just honest.
But still— in the quiet after all that taking, green finds a way back in.
Grass stitches itself across the wounds, wildflowers rise without permission, and trees lean stubborn into the sky like they’ve got something left to prove.
People here don’t leave easy. Roots run deeper than coal seams ever did. They hold on—to each other, to memory, to the stubborn beauty of a place that refuses to disappear.
At dusk, the mountains soften again, blue shadows folding over the ridges, and you can almost hear the land breathing— not broken, just tired, not empty, just waiting.
Because even stripped bare, this place still stands— quiet, enduring, and somehow, still beautiful.
As a child of Appalachia, very poetically and well said
Woww!!!!!
Poetry.