Biography of Willie Walker
The son of an illiterate sharecropper who was raised in poverty. Finished high school in 1959 and moved to Florida, New York City, California and spent time in Central America. Went to college at Rancho Santiago College and Cal State Fullerton as well as classes in several other colleges. Retired as a mechanical engineer at age 54. Began writing poetry and short stories about his youth growing up in the red clay country of Coffee County, Alabama. Winner of several awards for short stories and national contests. Published poems and short stories in several anthologies and history books. At age 72 lives in Chattanooga, Tennessee.
Willie Walker's Works:
The Heritage of Coffee County, Alabama
Willie Walker Poems
Night In A Negro Graveyard
It is a dark and foreboding night. The moon has run and hid its light
Night Terrors Whippoorwill calls in the swamp at night, Lonely soul, flies it's fluttering flight.
The setting sun in the winter skies Reflected dimly in the old man's eyes. On a patio porch in a plastic chair Close beside him his dog lay there.
An Angel Came
Little Baby, Little Toy, Daddy's Darling, Momma's Joy. Sleeping Quietly, Angel Eyes, Never Laughing, Never Cries.
The Chattahoochee River
The Chattahoochee River is muddy and deep, Rolls restless in her bed, and never sleeps. She churns, whirls, and sometimes creeps, But the Chattahoochee River never sleeps.
Grandpa was apt to play when Grandma was away. She went to Florida with her siblings for to stay. Grandpa shined his boots and donned a new white shirt. He slicked down his hair and made sure his hat was square.
Dark Canyons Of Lost Souls
Twisting, turning, groping, along the darkened canyons of my soul, Stumbling blindly, feeling the cold slimy fabric of my existence. The beings of this world are crazy, driven, obscene, and insane, With lives of real desperation, hearts full of sorrow and pain.
Beyond yonder hill is a golden glow that beckons you see, Where a wilderness awaits and where someday I must be,
The setting sun in the winter skies
Reflected dimly in the old man's eyes.
On a patio porch in a plastic chair
Close beside him his dog lay there.
Near a busy street in a bustling town
His life was lived and now ran down.
But for the dog, the man was alone
With his memories of days long gone.
Visions of childhood danced in his head