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Tonya Maria Apr 2015

Towering hemlocks shade
dense trails of cinnamon fern
as native bluestars rise
in natures wake.
Morning cries joyful teardrops of vapored dew.

Ridgetop mountains fall
to steep mountainsides
and remain faithful to hide
my secrets and fears.
Afternoon sun shines serenity on the hills.

Mountain winds blow sweetly
and howl through the coves
while nature's musical connection
joins with generations of sound.
Evening serenades me with relaxation.

Homesick

r  Jul 2014
Appalachian blue
r Jul 2014

Blue the mountains
holding close in view
sacred smoke of yesterdays
blue fog shrouded trails
beneath the rhododendron

falls of sweet blue water
replenishing the rivers
sapphire lakes reflecting
splendor of the bluest hills
above the peaceful valley

hear the sacred music
of the blue ridge mountains
magic in the songs of old
forever blue my appalachia
blue the hills I used to roam.

r ~ 7/4/14

\¥/\
 |      ^^^^^
/ \

Time to meet the family
At least, that's what I heard
But, she asked me when the game was on
So, I didn't catch a word

We'd be heading out a week from now
Back where it all began
To meet the wife's whole family
every woman, every man

When she said she was from the hills
I didn't ask her where
But, once he started on our way
I was always looking out for bear

They lived way up in the wooded parts
Off the road, you couldn't see
I didn't see just where they were
But, I felt them watching me

We pulled on up and there they were
They made the Clampett clan look good
Eighteen folks all standing there
and two were chewing wood

The one's I thought to be her folks
Were her sister and a dog
The one that cozied up to me
Had a leash walking a hog

There was hugging and some kissing
Lots of tangled beards and hair
Then they stood and looked at me
With that mountain kind of stare

you know the one, deliverance like
where you wonder flee or flight
It was just then that I wondered
If I'd make it through the night

Her ma came up and spun me round
slapped my ass, and said "he'll do"
I wasn't sure if that was good
And I would end up in a stew

A bearded one came over,
shook my hand, and said his name was Clem
He said that mama liked me
Now, I was one of them

they was fixing to go hunting
Which was something new to me
The last time I went hunting
I shot a canoe and a tree

They said that they were hunting
The most elusive mountain prey
I was gonna hunt for ginseng
And if we found some it would pay

First, though, time to have some drinks
Eat some greasy, stinky meal
I think it was a possum
But, it might have been an eel

They said we'd get a good night's sleep
And they started howling at the moon
Time to hit the sack they said
Hunting time is coming soon

My Appalachian in-laws
Made my sphincter close up tight
They had 14 teeth between them
And I don't think one of them could write

We hit the trail next morning
It felt like miles up that hill
I thought that I was dieing
And I hadn't left a will

A sound was heard, a gentle coo
And we was running, in our boots
Clem was out in front of us
And he'd discovered ginseng roots

I picked them up, all scraggly
Like a parsnip,  dried and dead
When a holler came from brother Boo
A monster known as Red

His beard was black as coal could be
His eyes looked at each other
They called him Red not for his hair
Just 'cause he liked the color

They filled the bags with what they found
And back down the hill they went
I thought that this was insanely mad
And then Clem got a scent

Someone else was on this hill
Out hunting Appalachian gold
That's not what I would call it
But, I just call things as I'm told

We found the truck and sped away
To get paid for the days find
We had to make sure all were there
And that we left no one behind

The gun shop and the bar and grill
Was where we would get paid
Thirteen hundred bucks a pound
Almost three grand had we made

We went back with the cash in hand
Howling at whatever we saw
I guess that I'm now one of them
An Appalachian outlaw in-law

spysgrandson Apr 23

with moonlight, he travels mostly
at night, past snoring hikers and embers
of fires that cooked their food, kept darkness
at bay, and heard what they had to say

if the coals could only speak, perhaps
he would find the right circle of stones,
a black heap of carbon that once glowed
red and gold, and her tale would be told

at least he would know the last words
she spoke in this wilderness--whether she
chose to vanish into the deep wood, fodder
for the scavengers

or was the prey of evil men,
who lurk at every turn--in bustling city
and quiet forest as well--vipers who strike
without warning, without curse or cause

when the moon's light wanes, he moves yet
in darkness, feeling his way, a nocturnal detective,
hoping to find what the others have given up
for lost and registered among the dead:

sign or scent of her--black coals or white bones,
a piece of tattered clothing, the canvas backpack
with her name, the hiking boots he laced for her
which left tracks he forever yearns to find...

"Inspired" by the brutal murder of a couple on the Appalachian Trail in the mid '80s. In this case, the forlorn searcher has lost a lover, daughter or someone he wanders in the darkness to find.

What am I to do when you are hundreds of miles away
Hiking the Appalachia
Living off the land and proving your manhood

The dog cannot hold me and warm me at night
The vibrator will seize to amuse me after a week
The empty seat at the table will irk me
I could go on but I think you get the point
I need you

If you really must fulfill this quest
Just know
That I will watch the door awaiting your return
That I will hug your pillow every night
that I will wear your clothes to feel closer to you
Ah, I could go on but I think you get the point
I need you

Plastic liquidation
With god as my witness
The only cure with
A grave land as your living space

This forgotten life style
Left you as a heroin
Only to your sick Aids ridden fantasy

Ballooned music maiden
May your curls grow to collapse
A broken hilarity
In an overused vessel

Emma Erbach Jun 2013

Let's spend a week forgetting to be lonely.
I'll fly into Knoxville, drive east
until the roads run out. No one goes
to Harlan County unless they have to.
The mountains are giants, here, they almost
disguise the desolation-- the pieces
of people that got caught
when the mines collapsed.
You tell me to be careful, as if
this isn't my country, too.
As if I wasn't born with dirt beneath my fingernails.

I like how you treat me delicate.
I like to pretend I'm a flower.
You touch me like I'm breakable.
I want to protest that I'm not, but I'd be lying.
Look at me like you mean it, like I'm
the only clean water
you've drunk in weeks. The wells
have been choked with weeds.
So leave bite marks on my back as you
burn the brush.
There is a sweetness in me if you can find it.

Let's drink like teenagers; make sloppy love.
I want to cum at the same time and then lie around
giggling and smoking cigarettes.
Pull the blankets off the bed and trail them
through the house until we've fucked in every room, twice.
Let's build a pillow fort, drink cheap
wine out of mason jars, and then fuck so hard
it falls down around us.
I want you to lose hours in me, whole days,
come up for air next Tuesday and we'll
cook breakfast at midnight. You make me so hungry.

Tell me about your childhood, tell me
the one thing you asked for every Christmas
and never got. I wanted
an Easy-Bake Oven. I wanted to play normal.
Tell me all the things you got but didn't ask for,
never wanted, didn't deserve.
I'll run my teeth across your earlobe
and let my hips listen to all the words
your tongue never learned to say.
We are both still just babies.

I like how you scare me.
How sometimes you hold my wrists together
when you tell me I'm beautiful
so I can't wriggle away, because you know
I've never been good at accepting compliments.
I can count the number of nights
we've spent together on one hand, but the months
of distance take more than just digits.
I used to think you hated me.
I used to hate myself for it.

I know the darkness in you. Three days down
in the mine with no canary and me just waiting
for you to reemerge.
You always seem to find your ways out of it.
I like to think of myself as a lodestone; you tell me
not to get arrogant, that being wounded and beautiful
aren't interchangeable, but I believe
they both can make us strong.
I want to write poems with my fingers
on the small of your back,
leave scratch marks as a reminder of
how far I've come. You make me forget to be sad.
You teach me not to take myself too seriously.
I want to be your canary.
Follow my voice out when it gets dangerous.
I'll only scream when I mean it.

Get a little lost in me. Undress until
I can feel the heartbeat in your cock reverberating up my spine.
So run your tongue down
my torso; forget to breathe, while you
Tell me the things that scare you.
Show me your seams. Somewhere beneath
all this rock there is a gold mine, so trace my veins
like a treasure map. Maybe someday
they will lead you home.

ConnectHook  Sep 2015
To Dolly
ConnectHook Sep 2015

Dolly Parton: bright as waters
cleft before the Israelites
may your matrons, sons, and daughters,
bluegrass saints and satellites

crown our country, brim our fountains
long as your lyrical honor reaches
from the Appalachian mountains
to that land the Bible preaches.

Hear our thanks for all your singing
all the years of Faith and Glory
lifting up the Lord – then stinging
like a psalm (imprecatory).

I love Dolly Parton ! Thank you Jesus.

https://youtu.be/0Fvqi-aYa7Q
Marian  Oct 2014
Appalachian Song
Marian Oct 2014

Petrichor breezes mingled
With the scent of mountain laurel
Blew across the cool summer air
The taste of citrus on my tongue
I have a view of the valley below me
Everything looks so small
In hidden caves, I sing
And wade in mossy waterfalls
I watched the moon rise in the velvety sky
I'm falling slowly asleep
Upon a bed of lady's slipper
In the morning, I shall awake
To vibrant creamy pastel skies
And fragrant mists of dawn
I shall walk upon paths
Where no foot has ever trod
Paths bordered by rhododendrons
Where my heart can soar
With evergreens and white pines
Hidden safely with my mountain cove
A haven where I can dream
Nestled in amongst the Appalachian mountains
In a small, but comfortable log cabin
My heart keeps telling me "I am home!"


~Marian~

Haven't posted anything for quite some time,
So I don't know how this sounds!!! :P ~~~~~~<3
I will try to post more frequently, if I can,
Although I can make no promises!!! ~~~~~<3
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy it!!! :) ~~~~~~<3
Mary Winslow Aug 2016

Sticky seed
vestigial coded silhouette
a poem
this nettle,
when I run in the grass
if not the chiggers or rattlesnakes
sticktight will get you,
briar under your socks, a poem
the stomach of the forest goddess snaps off a seed
and sticks that pamphlet in your hand
just look in my pocket
I've collect dozens

you may treat them like
pricking nuisances
this verse that's honeycombed
and sends its envoy of need
clinging to your pants cuffs.

Nettles, this country advertiser
most people call it a weed
a flying hope that thumbs a ride
this is the ghost hitchhiker you've heard about
clinging to your dog's hair
hard to get rid of
once you pick it up.

I'm often asked why
I can't be like the unobtrusive ferns
instead of flying and flinging
and swearing an airborne creed
made to cling to someone else
as the season turns

It's a compulsion really,
earthly begging shower,
my poems,
my instruments of prayer.

copyright Mary Winslow 2016 all rights reserved.
Joseph Hart Jul 2014

I dug a little and I cried a little
On a hillside that was steep,
So my mama could sleep.

Each dig I dig it‘ll
kill me, gotta dig a grave six feet deep,
I dug a little and I cried a little

The birds I hear them tweet,
I don’t want to see her go so I piddle,
I want my momma to sleep.

Someday on this hill we’ll meet
The dirt is hard and rock riddled,
I dug a little and I cried a little

I’m the only one to do this deed,
The worms will have their nibble,
but my mama will sleep

I’ve finished my job and I’ll have to venture,
I’ve dug so long the ground is sleet.
I dug a little and I cried a little
So my mama could sleep.

To Libby and her Mother.
Petal Apr 2016

As I sit atop this Appalachian mountain
Watching the sun rise
Seeing lights reflection dance on the lake
Nature's bounty dazzles my eyes
The cardinal nests in a tree beside
He too, waits for the morning star
Being so close to the sky above
Making heaven seem not so far
Winters frost makes everything shine
As it has covered the frozen ground
Like an Angel has come straight from above
And thrown glitter all around
The moon says her daily goodbye
Slowly starts to fade away
And behold, the sun peeking over the horizon
Ready to light the day

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