POETRY CONTEST

It is with great pleasure that I am able to announce that Rebecca Irby was the winner of the International Poetry Contest which was held in conjunction with Ralph Giffin's Waltons site. Rebecca's poem was chosen as the winner by Earl Hamner. I hope you enjoy it.

The Song of John-Boy Walton

by

Rebecca Irby

In the years of the Depression,

In the lofty Blue Ridge Mountains,

Stood the home of John-Boy Walton,

Eldest boy-child of the Waltons.

Proud behind it rose the mountain,

Rose the fragrant honeysuckle,

Rose the redbud and the dogwood;

Nearby flowed the Rockfish River,

Flowed the sparkling sunlit waters,

Flowed the slow, strong, slate blue waters.

There the lad named John-Boy Walton

Spent his boyhood, free and happy;

Fished for bass and carp and catfish,

Hunted deer upon the mountain.

Pen in hand, the young boy scribbled,

Penned each moment of his boyhood;

Wrote about his home and family,

Of his brothers and his sisters,

Of his Mama and his Daddy.

Who are they, the Walton family?

Living there, on Walton's Mountain?

John-Boy's memories are inscribed here.

Many things his Grandpa taught him,

Of the green plants in the forest;

Told him all the family's history,

Of their history on the mountain.

Grandma Walton taught young John-Boy

Of the truths learned in the Bible;

Taught his sisters cooking, sewing,

How to smoothly run the household.

Daddy Walton ran a sawmill.

Mama raised her many children:

John-Boy, the aspiring writer;

Red-haired Jason, the musician;

Family tomboy, Mary Ellen;

And young Ben, so down-to-earth-like;

Jim Bob, soaring with the eagles;

Pretty Erin, young Elizabeth.

All these children grew together,

Played together, worked together.

When those years had passed, this John-Boy,

Oft times filled with old nostalgia,

Thought about his friends and family

And his home on Walton's Mountain.

John-Boy, thrilling to the memories,

Memories harkening back to childhood,

Of the Waltons and their neighbors,

Wrote their tales for all to cherish.

And I think that as the sun sets

Every night upon that mountain

Even yet the echoes linger,

Loving words, so gently spoken,

Good night, John-Boy. Good night, Waltons.