Pauline was born and raised in the backwoods
of Kentucky. Born to humble parents, she had an older sister named Nell.
The two girls, close in age, were constant companions on the farm where
they lived. With no electricity, no telephone, no gas, they invented many
ways to find comfort and purpose in their lives. They roamed the hills and
meadows of the farm, developing a bond and a unique perspective of where,
and how they lived. Besides being best friends, they grew up to marry
brothers, Shelby and Clayton DeArmond. They all lived on a farm, owned by
Shelby. Nell and Shelby in one house, Clayton and Pauline in another just
up the hill. Through it all, she wrote sonnets and poetry.
Before moving to the farm with her sister Nell,Pauline gave birth to three daughters while living in Dunmor, Kentucky
with husband Clayton.
She gave birth to yet another daughter, Francis, while living in a little house on the hill on the farm shared with
Nell and Shelby. It would
be her last child with Clayton. Sadly, he died at the early age of 33 from
cancer. Her poetry once explored the happiness and joy of her surroundings,
of her children and of her love of Kentucky.
Pauline never got over the death of Clayton and she began writing with more
intensity than before. She wrote of sorrow, of memories, of places where
she once lived with Clayton, of times they shared. Mostly, she wrote of
lost love, of those days walking and dreaming in the hills and meadows of
that once magnificent journey she had made, rich in spirt, happy of heart
and deeply in love.
As the years went on, she moved several times, married another and had a
son. She eventually ended up in West Virgina, where she gave birth to
another son. It was never the same, however, for no matter where her
journey took her, always was the farm, was Kentucky, was her heart. The coming
pages are filled with her verse, with her tears and her memory of another
time, another place....another life.
In the end, Pauline left behind ten journals of poetry and several
scrapbooks of her favorite things, with poetic expressions adorning their
pictures. It is from these journals the poetry she left behind was taken.