A Season of CHANGE – Appalachian Artist League Poetry Contest Winners
Dandelion Scribes is delighted to present 22 remarkable poems from the winners of the 2025 Appalachian Artist League Poetry Contest! Poets near & far were asked to produce an original piece of writing, centered around the theme of change. The result is a collection of powerful poetry that addresses personal, social, environmental, and spiritual transformation.
Whether change is perceived as growth or regression depends on each poet’s unique perspective and individual circumstances. More often than not, change carries a sense of ambiguity, existing within a liminal space of positive & negative, light & dark. Each of the following poets have contributed an important statement in a larger conversation – one that requires honesty, vulnerability, and willingness to share. How do we deal with change, as human beings? What realities must we grapple with as everything around us shifts and fluctuates? Where do we find the strength to step into a brand-new world? And who can we count on for support when everything we once knew washes away?
We extend our gratitude to each and every poet who chose to address these questions and honor the call to create. In the process, you have given the world the invaluable gift of your words. Thank you all for opening your hearts, writing your truth, and being part of our growing community of poets! We also invite you to check out our submissions page if you would like to continue sharing your poetry for publication on the Scribes!
Keep reading to enjoy the poetry of all our contest winners! First, second, and third place are followed by a number of special awards and honorable mentions.
1st PLACE
Winner of $100 Cash Prize
Martins Deep
REINCARNATION
by Martins Deep
In the dream, I was reborn
a nameless bird, hatched
in a nest overlooking a cathedral
the wraith of Mary Poppins scatters
bagfuls of crumbs at dawn. This is the wild,
merciless, and hungry,
yet there is a gut in me
to await my mother's return
without praying
to the god of worm and sky.
How silly it is to be
wasteful with longing
meant for courtship
later in the grove.
And I care
no more for the old cares; retirement
plans, bills, debt, social status, celebrity
gossip, inflation, traffic jam, politics.
Now by design, I could fly above it all—all
the lands, over graves, the heads
of hunters, kings, holy places and palaces.
A flight by the mercy of instinct,
wind and gravity. And by
a miss in my flapping, I could crash
into the eye of God,
and abide there. Forever. Oh, how wonderful
it is to wake up
and mock the world, so sweetly,
it is singing, birdsong—great mistranslations
of my anti ode to every birdwatcher
with a camera.
To wake up and dance
to the echoes of that song
in the sun that used to be a golden rot
in the sky. To perch
on a twig beneath passing clouds—
a twig, shaky like an old finger pointing me
away from an oncoming slingstone. Look,
my God, I am
alive. I am alive
and the wind is on my side.
2nd PLACE
Winner of $25 Visa Gift Card
Guiliana Noto
WINDS OF CHANGE
by Guiliana Noto
In the quiet dawn of a new day's birth,
Change whispers softly, reshaping the Earth.
Leaves fall gently, seasons shift,
Time's relentless, an endless gift.
Mountains tall, once steadfast and bold,
Erode to valleys, stories untold.
Rivers carve paths, winding and free,
Echoing the truth of life's decree.
Stars that twinkle in the night sky,
Burn out slowly, bidding goodbye.
The moon waxes and wanes in its dance,
A celestial ballet, a cosmic chance.
Faces age, youth fades away,
Memories linger, come what may.
Hearts that once beat in perfect rhyme,
Find new rhythms, shaped by time.
Embrace the flow, the ebb and tide,
For in change, our true selves reside.
From caterpillar to butterflies flight,
Transformation brings new light.
In every ending, a fresh start,
Change is the pulse of the heart.
So welcome the unknown, the unplanned,
For in change's hands, we understand.
The winds of change, they never cease,
Bringing both turmoil and peace.
Through every storm and gentle breeze,
Change is the force that sets us free.
In the tapestry of life, so grand,
Change weaves patterns, hand in hand.
With every thread, both bright and strange,
We find our strength, we find our range.
3rd PLACE
Winners of $25 Visa Gift Card
Chyrel J. Jackson
&
Linda Parks
RED CLAY ROOTS
by Chyrel J. Jackson
A young Black city girl wild and free.
Summers spent with Southern
Mississippi Red Clay grandparents
In the lowlands.
Chasing fireflies, barefoot in the
Bayou.
The heart and soul of the country.
Living soulful bluesy sharecropper
legacies.
Strange fruit memories chasing me.
Bigoted nightmares won’t let go of
me.
I see confederate flags waving when
I’m not Sleep.
In the courthouse, on the town square
All around me.
On the neighbors’ lawns, everywhere.
My country states that all men are equal,
but claiming my southern Roots makes
me feel like an outdated post bellum
Harlequin Scarlett O’Hara Sequel.
Change is returning to the only home
you’ve always claimed and embraced
as yours, finding your Black southern
history under attack.
Banning books, whitewashing truths, and
History.
⚘
THE CHANGE
by Linda Parks
It came on softly, gently, and unexpected
Altering me from the consumption of my self awareness
It all melted into an abstract reality, which started out as a physical quality
I thought I knew what it would feel like, to be loved and to love
But I didn’t.
The giving involved, it came in waves of decisions
Decisions that I would not have made except I cared. I cared.
When did I start to deeply care?
Was it when you looked into my eyes and I felt the heat of your embrace?
When your nearness brought level ground under my feet?
The years of your giving to my needs.
It hurts at times to love. The transformation isn’t easy.
You and I aren’t always kind, nor are we always selfless.
Love changes you from a child that wants to receive to the person who wants to give
Give my time– the minutes used on things I wanted to the hours spent on
Growing love, modifying my way of doing things to fit you into my world or
Maybe your world because things changed, and I wanted you in my world or vice versa
No longer was it I, for now I saw you.
This change that subtly works its way into your heart
Drives actions, awakening the senses to sounds that are keenly
Aware of any danger which could harm you. The concept of you weaving
You into my inner being, slowly making us one because of love,
Love that changes me because of you.
Affections tied to my flesh now, vulnerable.
Yet– strong. This change made me strong
Just like it came, it is free to go– and yet you stay.
So I hold you gently– knowing love wills us together
Changes us; makes us able to withstand us
Till we are no longer here.
𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘
SPECIAL
AWARDS
The ‘Heroic Heart’ Award
–Chris Boyatt–
THE CHANGE
by Chris Boyatt
There's been a change
in my heart
since your death
took you from me.
There is a great void
in this pit of darkness
and despair.
There is an agonizing
pain in this hole
you used to fill.
My tears roll down
my cheeks
and my chin.
I hear them heavily
plop on my pillow.
I miss your laughter.
I miss the joy you brought me.
I miss the twinkle in your eyes.
I miss seeing you walk in the door.
And since these things
are no more
there's been a change
in my heart.
And I can tell you now–
Don't wait.
Do not wait,
say I love you.
Share the laughter.
Share the joy.
Before the chance
is gone forevermore.
Before death makes
a change.
The ‘Clarity in Stillness’ Award
–Chris Wood–
SLIPPING INTO SILENCE
by Chris Wood
My humming stops
when he walks into the room,
face unreadable as I search for clues —
anything to tell me life is not changing.
I stare out the window,
blinds shading lines
across my body. Sunrise flames
the hospital parking lot.
I long for a cigarette,
a habit I overcame years ago,
but sorrow grips me, panic
squeezes my chest.
The doctor mumbles
low blood pressure,
cannot breathe on his own.
I hear —
he will not recover.
The ‘Author of Ancestors’ Award
–Stephanie Duncan–
MAUDE & ME
by Stephanie Duncan
She sparks in my reflection, a
certain curl of my lips. I bend
to pick dirty laundry off cold
tiles, tiny bundles held to
stomach. I walk to the laundry like
she did to the barn. Storing and
restoring all the same.
22 years she's been in the grave, so
how do I remember how her mouth
dipped into her face like a carved
pumpkin? My face does the same
so as to make a crescent moon when I
smile in pictures.
Her rings would clank on wooden tables
and she would laugh with a glint of
gold at the corners.
I clean feverishly and do “just so" just
as she did her poor, coal camp home.
Tidy. Clean. That extended to me.
It is fall outside.
I am getting older.
I don't sleep.
I stay up and think of things like
great grandmothers. I wonder at
parallels even though I seem
to run perpendicular. She is quiet;
so am I. One and the same somehow
The ‘Mountain Magic’ Award
–Diane Darocha–
ADJUSTING
by Diane Darocha
One day, the skies were clear and sunny.
The next, they were dark and angry.
Trees cracked.
Rivers appeared.
We had to shift to colonial days.
Creek beds were rerouted.
Roads were no more.
Life changed.
Neighbors came.
Our community worked on reformation.
Days to weeks to a month
went by with life still not feeling
“the same.”
Disjointed.
This variation of normal we became.
One day, filled with laughter and plans,
like many others, the future so grand.
A call.
Time stops.
Another revision to what we thought true.
When we were just learning to stand
in this new jumbled reality,
You left.
“It was too much.”
Not the storm we were all a part of
but the one in your soul.
You solved your own problem
by shattering our world.
Hurricanes.
No electricity.
Were nothing compared to this.
One day filled with sunshine.
Next day filled with sorrow.
Lost.
Numbness.
Fourteen was too young to alter your tomorrows.
Adjusting our daily routines.
Modifying our family photographs.
Knowing smile.
Silent hug.
We feel the difference in your absence.
CHANGE.
In the end, isn’t it all just a transformation if we allow it?
The ‘Wise Woman’ Award
–Angelia Ross–
FOR THE SAKE OF PROGRESS
by Angelia Ross
A seed fell to Earth,
Where it was nurtured by Her love,
And grew in the warmth of the sun.
Becoming tall and proud –
A giant among his siblings,
Who provided shelter for all
Who sought it;
Until that gray day
When man arrived with his
Devilish machine.
The Earth cried out for Her fallen children
And she mourned loudly
For Her proud son.
Cries, which fell on deaf ears,
For unlike his grandfather before him,
Who took only to fulfill his need,
This man took to fulfill his greed,
But is that what he calls it?
No, to him it is called progress.
Progress, pooh!
It is a crime for which there is
No punishment.
Look out over the Earth!
See Her scars!
Feel Her emptiness!
For in this place where
Her mighty son fell,
Life is no more.
Birds no longer sing or raise their young.
The coyote no longer serenades
The full moon.
The wild flowers no longer raise their
Faces to the morning sun.
All are gone for the sake of progress.
Progress, which will soon turn the Earth
Into a wasteland.
For without the forests none can live.
Not even man.
The ‘Truth to Power’ Award
–Trinion Guillory–
CHANGE
by Trinion Guillory
Excuse me Mr.
Good morning ma’am
I was once a soldier for Uncle Sam
See me at the interstate off ramp
Holding a sign, trying to maintain
I’d appreciate a dollar, but, I’ll settle for Change
Diversity, Equity, Inclusion
Drag queens library readings
General population clinging to misleadings
Incorrect information
Donald Trump nation
Nationalists, target practice at a firing range
Make America Great Again, another four years, surviving Change
March on Washington, death of Dr. King
L.A. riots, beating of Rodney, same surname
Painful way to earn fame
Trayvon Martin, George Floyd, 2020 the same
Right fist in the air, not much Change
Eastern Kentucky, lack of resources
Kerosene heat to stay warm
Not a dime, living costs a leg and arm
Mayonnaise out of the jar
Tri-level homes
Meth addict can’t leave the drugs alone
Local police departments sharing mugshots of the less fortunate
Wealth distribution disproportionate
Voting for the billionaire orange man
My broken down trailer home, he surely understands
Deport the illegals, they’re taking from the white man, sounds deranged
In the same position again, begging for Change
The ‘Devil in the Details’ Award
–Stella van Buskirk–
PICTURE DAY
by Stella van Buskirk
do you have my back like the doctor when he was digging through it?
i can see striations here, he says & points to
the gymnast
crouching in my shoulder blades.
i want to begin by saying:
fall, like gravity,
moves quickly
passing like redness across a face but alcaraz
has acne scars too.
careful, she’s hormonal!
so i connect the dots on my cheeks, tracing
the places i’ve been.
here,
in these leaves
my mom takes my picture.
the most vulnerable part of me:
the leaf that gets stuck to my hand and those i crunch,
the way the camera sees me.
see,
there’s a girl who can’t smile when
she doesn’t want to.
so don’t, my mom says, clicking like
metal after making an incision.
the doctor puts his tool down & leaves
me with a red line, scar-shaped but
necessary. my body wants me
here,
two more spots rising as my
back rises with air,
glue pulling & healing
my skin, the changing seasons caught
in the camera’s flash. nearby
love is scribbled on a bench, so
that’s where i’ll sit:
in front of that willow tree,
forgetting
for a moment
the click.
The ‘Luminous Lyricist’ Award
–Brian Coleman–
DEAD WEED
by Brian Coleman
Dead weed blowing in the wind.
It's that time of the year again.
For me to see who I am.
And, who I am is who I've been.
Like a dead weed in the field.
Blowing in the wind again.
Dead weed in the wind.
Dead weed holding onto the ground.
The rain has come to wash you down.
For you to see who you are.
And, who you are is who you've been.
Like a dead weed in the field.
Blowing in the wind again.
Dead weed in the wind.
Dead weed blowing in the wind.
It's time to blow away again.
For me to see who I am.
And, who I am is who I've been.
Like a dead weed in the field.
Blowing in the wind again.
Dead weed in the wind.
Dead weed turn from green to brown.
The sun has come to take you out.
For you to see who you are.
And, who you are is who you've been.
Like a dead weed in the field.
Blowing in the wind again.
Dead weed in the wind.
The ‘Starlight Sister’ Award
–Frances Denise–
IMPOSSIBLE, WHAT’S POSSIBLE
by Frances Denise
It has become impossible
For me to live in the same way as before
I’ve always yearned for more
But this is different
I now must create
From this silent place
The nourished soil
A rich darkness
The sweet smell of the earth
No longer a starved heart
A lost perspective
Nor hollow cave
From a recovered wholeness
I set down roots
I write, I dream
I grow flowers
Soft and strong
Delicate
Deceivingly so
Did you notice the geometry?
If you come close enough
You’ll get pulled in
Their scent is their gravity
They say
All along
You belong
You can dance here –
But you must leave all your bags at the door
Come on in
Just you
Nothing more
We will grow trees
Thick oaks
And sycamores with slender branches
Leaves touching sky
And tomorrow,
Should you feel like it
We can fly
The ‘Soulful Sage’ Award
–Olivia Gilreath–
EMBRACE THE EBB AND FLOW
by Olivia Gilreath
In the whispers of the dawn,
Change tiptoes, gentle and drawn.
A leaf that falls, a season's shift,
In every moment, a subtle gift.
Like rivers carving their endless path,
Change flows, both gentle and wrathful.
Through storms and calm, it finds its way,
Guiding us from night to day.
Embrace the ebb, the flow, the tide,
For in change, we learn, we bide.
With every loss, a chance to gain,
In every tear, a cleansing rain.
So let us dance with change, unafraid,
For in its arms, new dreams are made.
Through every twist and turn, we'll see,
Change is the heart of what will be.
Mountains rise and valleys fall,
Change is the constant, embracing all.
In laughter, in pain,
In the sunshine, in the rain.
From the first breath to the last,
Change shapes our future and molds our past.
In every challenge, every feat,
Change is the rhythm of our hearts.
So fear not the unknown road,
The change will lighten every load.
With open hearts and open minds,
We'll find the beauty change defines.
In every dawn, a new chance to grow,
In every dusk, a chance to let go.
Embrace the ebb, the flow, the tide,
For in change, our true selves reside.
The ‘Wandering Watchman’ Award
–George Fillingham–
WHILE THE CHANGES CHANGE
by George Fillingham
“ . . . this world, which is each man’s work.”
–Dylan Thomas
I drive toward Pilot Rock.
I turn on Farm Road 911.
The road becomes a pasture.
I stop. The quiet night sweeps over me.
I listen to the wind across the soybeans.
Voices from the wind say food, say fuel,
say nothing. The overcast sky says nothing.
No stars to steer my thoughts.
Crickets whirr. They interrupt
a mood I recognize but cannot comprehend.
Across the darkened fields
grains all ripen toward harvest.
The cricket songs repeat,
I am here my love, I am here.
I too am here my love.
I too am here.
The stars I cannot see are also here.
The beans of Soy bob about me
as I step among the plants.
I shift my feet to step between the stalks.
The shifting, shifting, shifting:
of clouds and stars, of wind, of mood.
I enter the soil sometimes,
disappear,
I lie among the roots,
among the clods. I listen
as the earth settles about me
while the changes change.
The ‘Shaman of Shadows’ Award
–Christopher Clough–
FANGED MESSIAH
by Christopher Clough
I call upon the ancient one
Hear me now
For it is my last
I unshackled the chains of purity
My shadow of depravity
Will be a megalithic cast
I have no Messiah
Nor need your saving grace
Lights mirror my dance with decadence
It is now the filth that I embrace
Stripped of pointless metaphors
Shedding this skin upon the ruins of this earth
I now embrace the cacophony
Of deafening silence
And bathe in the pools
Of primal rebirth
The ‘Calm & Curious’ Award
–Shawn Eager–
CHANGE CAN BE GOOD
by Shawn Eager
Get outside of your comfort zone, change is good for you, they said
but change can include things like illnesses, and breakups,
elections and accidents, homelessness...and dead
I think what is meant is change could mean better, if you are one who can read between the lines
don’t let your inner control freak make you focus on every letter
If you do you’ll surely find yourself confined
If you tend to be positive, imagining a brighter side, you understand that things DO always change
If you’ll walk out of the shadows when they try to fall around you
there’s a chance you might just help things along as futures rearrange
Can we change every outcome with just our pure intention, can you make water boil with just your mind?
While I do believe that miracles happen, all around us and every day
They are mostly the un-noticeable kind
Some miracles happen in synchronicity, when someone in need gains a reason to rejoice
And some take years to complete their evolution
And some are simply the right words, at the right time, in the right voice
Life gets a twist, turns upside down, sometimes gets ravaged by circumstance
And if we are not the victim, we’re part of the crowd just looking on
But we can change from observer to helper, and should never ignore that chance
So I guess they were right, change can be good.
𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘
HONORABLE
MENTIONS
Anton Miller, Jimmy Baer, Dylan Johnson-Knaup, Richard Spisak, and Matthew Dick
I’VE CHANGED
by Anton Miller
I feel like I've lived a thousand lives
My memoirs are packed to the degree that pens hate to see me
I've gone from seeing warmth of my child being born
To memories of me sleeping on cold jail floors
I can say that I've changed all day, but until I see any impact that I've created
My words fall on deaf ears
⚘
YOU’RE THE CHANGE
by Jimmy Baer
In the hush of dawn, a whisper to the heart,
A spark within, where inspiration gets its start.
With courage found in the depths of fear,
Step forth all who hear, this vision is clear.
A single choice, like a ripple in time,
Can shift the mountains, make the world climb.
For when you change, the universe bends,
In beauty’s tapestry, your thread extends.
Let go of doubt, embrace the light,
With each small act, ignite the night.
Your kindness, a beacon, guiding the way,
A small seed sown brings a brighter day.
With every smile shared, and word of grace,
You paint a path for others to trace.
A tender heart can heal the strife,
One gentle whisper, a new lease on life.
So rise now, dreamer, with wings unfurled,
Your journey matters, it shapes the world.
For when you change, you open doors,
Creating echoes that forever soar.
Embrace the power within your soul,
In taking flight, you’ll make others whole.
With courage and love, let your story unfold,
You’re the change, and your truth shall be told.
⚘
LIFE FOR DUMMIES
by Dylan Johnson-Knaup
Bought me a book today called life for dummies
All it was is questions on each page
Then I bought me another book from the self help section.
All that did was make me late.
So don't ask me
Cause I don't have the answer
I don't know your line
I can't say which way is
Up, down, which way is right.
Opened the phone book, and what do I see?
It's a number phone some therapy
Maybe I'll give it a call, see what they know.
They'll help me grow.
So don't ask me
Cause I don't have the answer
I don't know your line
I can't say which way is
Up, down, which way is right.
⚘
THE KREBS CYCLE
by Richard Spisak
Energy production within the cell,
is precisely balanced as we all
know quite well.
What we call the Krebs cycle we know of course, occurs inside the
mitochondria, it could of course, do worse.
The electron transportation as any fool can see, generates through
phosphorylation of the necessary ATP.
The Krebs cycle is the primary force in cellular respiration which we all
endorse. Mitochondria the mighty engine, is the critical
component and will brook, no dissension!
⚘
THE SEASON WHICH BEGUN
by Matthew Dick
threads through the needle's eye and the scythe rips across the alfalfa field with ease
the planetary motion atop the oceans deems our sanity unfit to savour in the reaches
endings programming levels dreamed about aloud until mourning times commence
reds spaced throughout the thoroughly splotched handkerchief akin to that of the nightingale...
settling in with my dreams to include the tone of listening swiftly to this night persuade
as the babbling brook meets the edge of the spillway from this naive swaray
Forever mimicking the blissful lending a mindless ear to the ways seeking impertinence
Wept upon focal patterns distanced from the sent sunlight amassing an hourglass within this vacuumed spot..
Stillness creeps into view formidably sighing as if to relinquish one's subtle stature
Alone atop these reaches lays the frightening catch of eye dressed to wheel off the sublimated tongue.
𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘
CONGRATULATIONS
TO ALL OF OUR POETRY CONTEST WINNERS!
WE ARE DEEPLY GRATEFUL
FOR THE CHANCE TO READ & SHARE YOUR WORDS.
KEEP WRITING!
THE WORLD NEEDS MORE OF YOUR POETRY.
With endless love & gratitude,
