Winchester writer maps Kentucky, humor, and hard truths

Marie Parsons’ new­ly released book Near a River Winding: Poems and Songs (Outskirts Press, September 4, 2026, $19.95, paper­back) is now avail­able and should be on the book­shelves and night­stands of poet­ry lovers everywhere. 

A native of Pike County, Kentucky, Parsons grew up there and lat­er became an English pro­fes­sor at Prestonsburg Community College. Now retired and liv­ing in Winchester, she is very much liv­ing the life of a poet and writer. 

Parsons ini­tial­ly pub­lished a nov­el called The Devil’s Back in 2015, but has since turned to poet­ry. With her sec­ond book, Near a River Winding, read­ers will dis­cov­er a poet who takes them on a lyri­cal jour­ney from the sim­ple to the complex. 

From her poem “Let Me Be,” I share the last three stanzas: 

With apolo­gies to Dr. Seuss, 
Let me reveal to you the truth: 
I’ll nev­er choose to write haiku 
As so many poets do. 

I’d rather eulo­gize a stump, 
Or cud­dle up with some cold lump, 
Eat my sup­per from a can, 
Or have a fling with Sam I Am. 

There just is no chang­ing me, 
So, haiku lovers, let me be! 

From that ear­ly poem in her col­lec­tion, Parsons then treats us to her love for her native Kentucky, before her poems lat­er in the book take us on still-lyri­cal jour­neys into com­plex top­ics that many read­ers might find challenging. 

Indeed, as the book nears its end, poems such as “Spare Me a Dime,” “The Lights of Camelot,” “The Hungry Multitudes,” “If the World Were Mine,” and “Feather-Blind” are works that may cause one to pause and reflect. They may may even cause read­ers to have a change of heart, or at least con­sid­er whether what may have moved their hearts pre­vi­ous­ly should change. 

About a soldier’s time in Vietnam, Parsons’ “Casualties of Vietnam” has her nar­ra­tor state in the first two stanzas. 

When he left home, he had no doubt,  
He knew what life was all about, 
Thought his coun­try did no wrong, 
No place to him was quite like home. 

His faith was strong,  
He still believed 
In hon­or, love, and dig­ni­ty, 
And Jesus died for you and me. 

But just six stan­zas lat­er the nar­ra­tor reveals the effects that being in Vietnam had brought about: 

Soon he ques­tioned his beliefs, 
Joints he smoked brought no relief, 
He left Saigon, his body whole,  
But dis­il­lu­sioned in his soul. 

His old beliefs, a long time gone, 
Casualties of Vietnam. 
The world he thought he knew had changed,  
Everything seemed rearranged. 

Still, before we get to the final poems in this long col­lec­tion of poems and songs, we learn about Parsons’ humor, wit, and a bit about the Kentucky of her youth and adult­hood. In so doing, by the time we reach those poems of pain, regret, and changes of mind, we are ready to con­sid­er them. 

Because we have come to trust the poet who wrote them from her heart and, for many read­ers, I sus­pect, etched them upon their hearts.