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Brandon Ray Kirk

Tag Archives: poems

C. Russel Christian: The Mountain Bard (1886-1887)

05 Monday Feb 2018

Posted by Brandon Ray Kirk in Huntington, Logan, Poetry, Wyoming County

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Brick Pomeroy, C. Russel Christian, Carl Christian, Epistle to Jefferson Davis, Epistle to Useless Gibson, General Johnston and the Dude, Grover Cleveland, history, Huntington Advertiser, Kirbyville, Life and Adventures of Sam Jones, Logan, Logan Banner, Logan County, Marian Trent, Milton Star, Mountain Bard, Oceana, poems, poetry, The Rebel Holiday, West Virginia, writers, writing, Wyoming County

C. Russell Christian (c.1861-1889) was a well known regional poet born in Logan County, WV. A son of B. and E. (White) Christian, he married Marian Trent, fathered at least one son (Carl), and died of typhoid fever at Kirbyville in Wyoming County, WV. He is buried in Oceana, WV.

C. Russel Christian Poet LB 05.13.1927 4

C. Russel Christian, Logan (WV) Banner, 13 May 1927.

C. Russel Christian has written a card denying that he is the author of an ode to Grover Cleveland which graced the columns of the Milton Star recently. We have not read the ode, but have no doubt that it is much better than the Mountain Bard’s “Epistle to Jefferson Davis.” It could not be much worse.

Source: Huntington (WV) Advertiser, 3 July 1886.

***

THE MOUNTAIN BARD ON THE WAR PATH.

The Mountain Bard has dedicated a poem to one of the editors of this paper and that unfortunate mortal confesses that he regards it as the most calamitous and disastrous thing that ever happened to him in the course of his existence. He does not pretend to understand such figures as “the angry bard for vengeance swarming far years,” and “spying a groveling farm along his path,” but supposes them to be esoteric. Here is the poem, in its naked sublimity, as it appeared in the Commercial last week:

THE CRITIC

WRITTEN FOR THE INSTRUCTION OF AND RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO EDITOR WIATT, OF THE HUNTINGTON (W.VA.) ADVERTISER, JULY, 1886.

BY C. RUSSEL CHRISTIAN

Author of “Epistle to Jeff Davis,” “Epistle to Useless Gibson,” “General Johnston and the Dude,” “The Rebel Holiday,” &c., &c.

When hungry critics quit their lawful prey,

And rise in arms where real Muses stray,

The faithless public greets with loud applause

The first attack–and then its aid withdraws!

Meanwhile, the Bard upon the scene appears–

The angry Bard, to vengeance swarm for years!

Along his path a groveling farm he spies,

And hurls the dart that rankles as it flies!

The stroke once o’er, the victor hides for shame,

And yields the vanquished half of all his fame.

So once a bull attacked a lightning train;

The world applauded, but applause was vain.

The cars, careering, darted o’er the line–

I’m glad Sir Bull was never bull of mine!

Source: Huntington (WV) Advertiser, 21 August 1886.

***

The many friends and admirers of C. Russel Christian will be pleased to learn that that brilliant poetic luminary will not go to North Dakota, as was recently reported, but will continue to lift the torch of poesy upon his native hills. Like the immortal Homer, the Mountain Bard is wandering from house to house–not the songs of love and war, but the praises of the “Life and Adventures of Sam Jones,” for which valuable and interesting book the bard is taking subscriptions. This work, which combines the spicy flavor of Brick Pomeroy’s Democrat with the dignity and humor of a patent medicine almanac, ought to be somewhere about the premises of every householder, and we hope that the bard will be abundantly successful in its distribution.

Source: Huntington (WV) Advertiser, 2 April 1887

***

We publish on the fourth page of this impression a job lot of the “Mountain Bard’s” poetry. This does not necessarily imply that we think the Bard is improving. We publish his poetry as the evidence of a witness of doubtful veracity is given to a jury–for what it is worth.

Source: Huntington (WV) Advertiser, 9 July 1887.

NOTE: To see Mr. Christian’s marriage record, follow this link: http://www.wvculture.org/vrr/va_view2.aspx?FilmNumber=571278&ImageNumber=41

NOTE: To see Mr. Christian’s death record, follow this link: http://www.wvculture.org/vrr/va_view2.aspx?FilmNumber=597573&ImageNumber=138

NOTE: To see Mr. Christian’s widow (a “washerwoman”) and son Carl in the 1900 Logan County (WV) Census, follow this link: https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/3:1:S3HY-68V3-3TX?i=11&wc=9BWW-L2W%3A1032173901%2C1030658301%2C1033170701%3Fcc%3D1325221&cc=1325221

NOTE: For samples of Mr. Christian’s poety, follow this link: https://archive.org/details/mountainbardseri00chri

Halloween Poem (1916)

31 Tuesday Oct 2017

Posted by Brandon Ray Kirk in Poetry, Women's History

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C.C. Fraser, Christina Catherine Fraser, Fraser Tytler, Halloween, Huntington Advertiser, Mrs. Edward Liddell, poems, poetry, writers, writing

Halloween Poem HA 10.31.1916 1

Huntington (WV) Advertiser, 31 October 1916. For more about the author, follow this link: http://fannycornforth.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-other-fraser-tytler-girl.html

Halloween Poem HA 10.31.1916 2

Huntington (WV) Advertiser, 31 October 1916.

Thomas Dunn English and “Ben Bolt”

15 Saturday Jul 2017

Posted by Brandon Ray Kirk in Logan

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Appalachia, Ben Bolt, Fred B. Lambert, Huntington, Logan, Logan Banner, Logan County, Marshall University, poems, poetry, Sam Miller, Thomas Dunn English, West Virginia, writers

Thomas Dunn English 6

Fred B. Lambert Papers, Special Collections Department, James E. Morrow Library, Marshall University, Huntington, WV.

Ben Bolt LB 9.25.03 2

Logan (WV) Banner, 25 September 1903.

Ben Bolt LB 9.25.03 3

Logan (WV) Banner, 25 September 1903.

“Ben Bolt” Not Written in Logan (1926)

15 Saturday Jul 2017

Posted by Brandon Ray Kirk in Logan

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Alice Lawson, Aracoma, assistant postmaster, Ben Bolt, Charleston Gazette, Edgar Allan Poe, George T. Swain, George Washington, Guyandotte River, history, Karl Myers, Logan, Logan Banner, Logan County, logging, mayor, New York Mirror, Pennsylvania, poems, poetry, postmaster, rafting, Rafting on the Guyandotte, Savage Grant, St. Albans, Thomas Dunn English, timbering, Vicie Nighbert, Walt Whitman, West Virginia, writers

Thomas Dunn English (1819-1902) was a Pennsylvania-born writer who lived briefly in present-day Logan, WV, before the Civil War. At one time, many Loganites believed he wrote his famous work titled “Ben Bolt” while a resident of Logan, then called Aracoma. For more information about his biography, follow this link: https://www.wvencyclopedia.org/articles/2205

The following story appeared in the Logan Banner on November 23, 1926:

“Logan gains quite a bit of notoriety from the fact that the song ‘Ben Bolt’ was written here,” said G.T. Swain in his short history of Logan county, published in 1916. Dr. English wrote “Ben Bolt” for the New York Mirror about 10 years before he ever came to Logan. So here explodeth another nice literary myth–if a myth concerning “Ben Bolt” may be called a literary one. They even tell how Dr. English laid aside his law and medicine practice, his novel writing, and his duties as assistant postmaster and politician and dreamily to go to the shades of certain elm trees overlooking the Guyandotte and there wrote the poem to a sweetheart of other days. The truth is that English wrote the poem while in the east at the request of “The Mirror” and while trying to compose a sea song he suddenly hit upon the sentimental mood and dashed it off, tacking the first four lines of the sea song-in-the-making onto the one in question. He sent it to the editor and told him the story and remarked that if it was not worth using to burn it. It was always a matter of chagrin to Dr. English that it was the best received piece he ever wrote and his prestige in congress was largely due to his fame from the song.

“For information relating to Dr. English we are indebted to Mrs. Vicie Nighbert, who gave us the information as told to her by her mother, and to Mr. Bryan [who] was personally acquainted [with English, now in his] 80th year and living at present in Straton street,” said Mr. Swain. “Mr. Bryan was personally acquainted with Dr. English, having at one time been postmaster of the town and employed Dr. English as assistant postmaster.”

English was mayor of Logan, according to Swain, in 1852. Mr. Swain said that Dr. English suddenly disappeared while living in Logan and showed up again with a woman and two children. Dr. English announced at the time that he had married a widow but rumors around the Logan chimney corners had it that the versatile gentleman had added that of wife stealing to his accomplishments. He did not permit the woman to visit or receive but a few friends “and she always carried a look of apprehension.” It is known that English, by act of the general assembly, had the names of the children changed to his own.

Although the whole thing is not worth refuting or proving, English did not write his “Ben Bolt” as told in Logan county. Mrs. Nighbert told the author of this historical sketch that “Dr. English used to often visit the large elm trees that stood by the bank of the Guyandotte near the woman’s residence. It was beneath the shade of the elm that stands today by the railroad bridge that he composed the song ‘Ben Bolt.'” Dr. English was a frequent visitor to the home of the Lawson’s, but the story to the effect that this song was dedicated to Alice Lawson is only imaginary for there was at that time none of the Lawson children bearing the name of Alice, nor were any of the girls at that time large enough to attract the attention of Dr. English.

The “Ben Bolt” myth is comparable to the story around Charleston that Poe wrote some of his works at St. Albans. Poe was never at St. Albans. It is like that pet tradition of the Huntington D.A.R. that George Washington surveyed lands in the Savage grant, the first grants involving the present site of Huntington.

Dr. English wrote a thousand rimes and jingles and couplets but no poems. “Ben Bolt” is a spurt of sentimentality of which the author was ashamed. Its popularity began when the German air was adapted to it, and has lived only on the strength of the music which is a sort the folk will not forget.

BEN BOLT

Don’t you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt…

Sweet Alice whose hair was so brown.

Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile.

And trembled with fear at your frown?

In the old churchyard in the valley, Ben Bolt.

In a corner obscure and alone,

They have fitted a slab of the granite so grey,

And Alice lies under the stone.

And so forth. English was at a loss how to open the verses when he hit upon the idea of tacking the first four lines of a sea song he was trying to compose for Willis, editor of “The Mirror,” and his last lines reflect the influence of the idea:

Your presence a blessing, your friendship a truth.

Ben Bolt, of the salt sea gale.

English wrote “Rafting on the Guyandotte” and two other “poems” while waiting on the return of a friend he was visiting, taking about an hour to [write] the poem. The opening to his poem is:

Who at danger never laughed,

Let him ride upon a raft

Down Guyan, when from the drains

Pours the flood from many rains,

And a stream no plummet gauges

In a furious freshet rages

With a strange and rapturous fear

Rushing water he will hear;

Woods and cliffsides darting by,

These shall terribly glad his eye.

He shall find his life blood leaping

Feel his brain with frenzy swell;

Faster with the current’s sweeping;

Hear his voice in sudden yell…

And so on for a 100 lines or more he describes the thrills of rafting. It would be interesting to have the collectors of West Virginia verse to rise up [illegible] now and tell exactly their reaction to this “beautiful verse” and why they like it, or why they attach importance to the scribbling pastimes of Dr. English, politician, physician, and lawyer.

Although he went to congress on “Ben Bolt,” there is no legitimate claims to list him as a West Virginia poet. Karl Myers writes much better verse than English ever achieved. A sixth grade pupil of native brightness a notch or two above his classmates can write pages of rhymes as good as the rafting poem. It is the sort of rhyme that is easier to do than not to do, once you establish the swing of it. Youngsters have been known to turn in history examination papers done in rhyme as good as this. But West Virginia is so anxious to claim some poets. Why this should worry the state is a mystery, for European critics say that the whole of America has produced but a poet and a half… Edgar Allan Poe the poet and Walt Whitman the half poet. So why should we feel sensitive about it?

Source: Charleston Gazette via the Logan Banner, 23 November 1926.

The Loganite (1888)

05 Sunday Mar 2017

Posted by Brandon Ray Kirk in Logan

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Appalachia, C. Russell Christian, history, Logan, Logan County, poems, poetry, Rambling Rhymes, The Loganite, West Virginia, writing

C. Russell Christian, a poor country teacher and poet who died at the age of twenty-nine years, authored 151 poems, mostly about his native Logan County, West Virginia. This poem, titled “The Loganite,” was published as part of Mr. Christian’s Rambling Rhymes in 1888.

 

To live devoid of want and fear;

To dress in jeans when winter comes;

To labor just three months a year,

And spend the nine around our homes.

To sleep two feather beds between,

Whose oaken stead adorns the scene;

If I’ve surveyed the scenes aright,

This is to be a Loganite!

 

To shoulder up the gun at morn,

And start in quest of deer or bear;

To hunt at night through the fields of corn

To find the ‘coons and ‘possums there;

To chase the boar thru many a ‘scald’

Where long and loud the sengers called–

If I’ve surveyed the scenes aright,

This is to be a Loganite.

 

To have our friends around the door,

When Sabbath brings the welcome day;

To have no knowledge of the poor

Whom Sunday brings no Sabbath day!

To feast, and laugh, and sing, and chat

And talk of This, and hint at That–

This is the way we took delight,

When I myself a Loganite!

 

The pawpaws in the wooded dell.

The chestnuts on the mountain top;

The huckleberries, loved so well;

The various fruits–a various crop.

This land is rich in nature’s store,

And fruits that nature always bore,

And all who will, may share the sights.

Presented to the Loganites.

 

I know there are impressions made

Against the genius of this land;

The homely manners, oft arrayed,

Speak-horror to the great and grand;

But Logan lives at home, the same,

Unmindful of the voice of Fame,

And shares her pleasures and delights,

With her own sons–the Loganites!

 

The day will come, nor far remote,

When palaces shall take the place

Of hovels that offend the sight,

And lend a proverb to the race;

A glorious future now appears.

The fruit of all our hopes and fears;

And prophecy reveals the sight

Of many a cultured Loganite!

 

And thou, Guyan! — clear, placid stream,

When future Bards thy beauties sing,

O let them think, as in a dream,

My humble Muse there tried her wing!

I ask no glory but to stand,

In memory of my native land,

And be, when Logan’s name is bright,

Remembered as a Loganite!

Sunrise With You

07 Monday Apr 2014

Posted by Brandon Ray Kirk in Poetry

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Tags

Appalachia, love, nature, poems, poetry, West Virginia, woods, writing

Sunrise With You

(Life In The Woods)

 Soft yellow sunshine

Breaks atop the rolling peaks

Of West Virginia mountains.

Together we sit

On the banks of a muddy river,

Gazing sheepishly upon

The scenery before us.

It is dawn —

The beginning of a new day.

For some it’s the beginning of a new life.

For us,

It can be regarded

As a reminder

That we were created for each other.

See the great golden orb rising

Up into the violet sky,

Glowing brighter and stronger with each second.

Many creatures stir in the forest

Beneath the light of the rising sun

And give life to woody slopes and brown riverbanks.

Such is our love…

It brightens a dull life

And warms a chilly heart.

Fate, perhaps coincidence, managed to uite

Two paths which began

So far apart.

Here at this wonderful

Sunrise

We are where we should

Have always been:

Together.

Two Innocents

03 Thursday Apr 2014

Posted by Brandon Ray Kirk in Poetry

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Appalachia, life, love, poems, poetry

Two Innocents

An image of us

Captured in yesterday’s mist:

Two innocents snuggle close

With only love betwixt.

 With an arm about your shoulder

I offer you a sweet gift:

I lean toward your cheek —

A kiss, which you shyly resist.

 Although disheartened at this refusal,

My inclination does not disappear.

I console myself in realizing that

There’s always us next year.

BRK

December 8, 1995

A Time to Love

30 Sunday Mar 2014

Posted by Brandon Ray Kirk in Poetry

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Appalachia, love, poems, poetry, writing

A Time to Love

(Anniversary)

Though I did not think it possible,

I feel myself growing fond of someone.

It is a scary feeling —

One of uncertainty and curiosity.

I can feel myself ebbing toward you.

Is it time to love?

Though our eyes seldom behold each other,

Though we never have brushed lips or hands,

I can feel me loving you.

You are the girl I have dreamed of.

I have wanted you for years.

Nothing can change that.

I can not make these feelings go away.

I could conceal them longer

But I do not wish to do that.

I have wanted you for so long.

I know that it is time to love.

Do not be frightened or uncomfortable.

It is not the occasion for such negativity.

Frolic in the meadows God has created for us.

Laugh with the joy that you will finally know contentment.

I will make you happy.

I will make you love.

Have you ever truly?

O’ it is time to love.

The Spririt is everywhere around me.

It is our time to love.

Bless me with an opportunity to prove myself.

“Shew forth thy loving kindness in the morning.”

It is morning.

It’s our morning.

Let us grip hands

And love each other throughout the days.

Our sun will shine a little brighter, I think.

BRK

May 7, 1991

Missing You This Day

29 Saturday Mar 2014

Posted by Brandon Ray Kirk in Poetry

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love, poems, poetry, writing

Missing You This Day

Never have I felt so lonely,

So helpless,

As I have today.

Never have I cried for another

In frustration,

As I have today.

Never have I longed for one’s company

So desperately,

As I have today.

Today is the day

I miss you.

I am alone

And for the first time in my life,

I do not want to be.

I want my love to be here

Or I to be there.

So long as we are together.

I want to hear you laugh,

See you smile.

I want to smell your beautiful aroma

And feel your touch.

I want to love you in deed,

As well as in thought.

I want you to understand how

Lonely

I am.

Lonely, helpless, frustrated, longing.

This should convince you of my love.

See me as I weep like a child

At his dead mother’s grave.

See me as I stand alone,

Reaching for you.

Digging, clawing

In the muddy mound for what can not be had.

In this cold, desolate autumn wasteland

See me drowning in my lake of self-pity

Screaming at an unanswered echo,

Being bashed against a rocky shore,

Bleeding in the churning waters,

Mingling with its fury —

The fury of my turmoil.

Help me.

Only memories and future optimism

Keep me alive.

How I yearn for you,

Oh how I wish we could be together,

Forever,

So these separations would not be.

Oh how I want to sweep you from your

Home and run the winds

With your love, leaving rules behind.

I dream of the day we can finally be

You and I,

Until then, I will

Miss you,

As I do on this day.

 BRK

October 10, 1990

Summer Blood

28 Friday Mar 2014

Posted by Brandon Ray Kirk in Poetry

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Tags

love, poems, poetry, writing

Summer Blood

‘Twas a summer day

In the meadow

When I spied her.

She was a beauty,

A youth,

And I loved her.

She trod toward me,

And I could feel my leaves

Grow in pride.

She was to pick me

As her flower,

Her love.

As she neared me,

She smiled…

And I loved her.

She gently reached for me

And my eagerness to be hers

Grew.

As she caressed my proud stem,

She quickly pulled away

And I wept.

A drop of blood ran down my petals,

And the angel ran from the meadow.

“Take no heed to my black petals.

Only my sharp, brazen thorn.

Is it always the harmless rose

Which is chosen to adorn?”

 BRK

July 11, 1990

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Blogs I Follow

  • OtterTales
  • Our Appalachia: A Blog Created by Students of Brandon Kirk
  • Piedmont Trails
  • Truman Capote
  • Appalachian Diaspora

BLOOD IN WEST VIRGINIA is now available for order at Amazon!

Blog at WordPress.com.

OtterTales

Writings from my travels and experiences. High and fine literature is wine, and mine is only water; but everybody likes water. Mark Twain

Our Appalachia: A Blog Created by Students of Brandon Kirk

This site is dedicated to the collection, preservation, and promotion of history and culture in Appalachia.

Piedmont Trails

Genealogy and History in North Carolina and Beyond

Truman Capote

A site about one of the most beautiful, interesting, tallented, outrageous and colorful personalities of the 20th Century

Appalachian Diaspora

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