Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Meg B Feb 2015
There is a fork in the road
where I veered left to merge onto
I-65,
and I spotted the same
bilboard I look up at
every day on my commute to work,
but now it was at eye level,
and I thought to myself,
*well, I guess that's what we call
perspective.
LittleFreeBird Jan 2015
That summer was hotter than any of the others before. The county was dryer than it had ever been, and the kids more restless than years past. I was sitting on the front porch at my granddaddy’s, swinging slowly with the breeze that offered no relief from that God awful heat. I was in a little black sundress, which was hard to find because most people prefer pink or yellow or orange  - anything but black during the summer. But you can’t wear pink or yellow or orange to a funeral. So there I sat, in my black sundress, black sun hat and black heels. I even had black sunglasses, but I opted for those on my own. I had no desire for every eye in Harlan to see me cry. The sunlight hurt my eyes anyway; I had one hell of a hangover. The night before was the first time I’d drunk anything but sweet tea or water in my life. My body did not take kindly to it. I was doing a lot of things my body did not take kindly to as of late, drinking being only one of the many vices I’d begun to partake in. “Come on girl, we best get a goin’. Ain’t gonna do to be late for this one.” Granddaddy offered me a hand and helped me up. The car ride there was silent, but I would catch him every once in a while glancing over at me to make sure I was “Keepin’ my **** together.” He knew about the drinking and had my hide for it.  It was far too soon that I had to step out of the car and walk to the front row where your family sat. The rest of the day went by in a blur. Your momma hugging me. Your daddy shaking my hand. Your sisters clinging to the skirt of my dress. I don’t know when I started crying, just that the tears seemed like they had been there since the day I was born. The songs we sang were all wrong and the sky was too blue and the birds sang too loud. The wind blew too much and not enough, because if it had been enough it would have carried me far, far away from that place, but too much because it’s sigh sounded far, far too much like yours. I kept it together until that first handful of dirt hit the lid of that ****** box that was going to hold you for the rest of eternity. I remember being jealous because I wanted to be the one holding you, not that hole in the ground. When it was my turn to throw it in, I fell. I fell as hard as when I fell in love with you, except you weren’t there to catch me this time, you were too busy in entering into the arms of our Good Lord. So I kissed the dirt I held in my hand (when it finally stopped shaking) and threw it in, then I tried to throw myself in. But granddaddy caught me before I could get to you and they covered you up before I could claw my way in. It hasn’t been the same since you left; the air doesn’t smell near as sweet and the sun doesn’t burn near as bright. I haven’t had the heart to wash the mud off that dress yet and I’ve had too much heart to throw it away. You left me to live in a world full of contradictions, Darlin’. Left me to live a life that knocks me to the ground and waits for me to get back up, just so it can kick me in the teeth.

And, I suppose, in your absence, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Meg B Dec 2014
I don't always like
(the taste of)
bourbon
but **** do I like
the way it can make me
feel;
that sting of warmth
as it slithers down your
esophagus,
and suddenly you know
all the best dance moves,
your voice hits smooth on
all the tunes,
your jeans hug ya just right,
and somehow the night
has become yours.
Too many bourbons and
**** I might get a little mean,
but just one or two
and I'm the most
proud-to-be-from-Louisville-
Kentucky girl you've ever
seen.
David Rusiecki Aug 2014
New York ~ News
New Jersey ~ Beaches
California ~ Movies
Florida ~ Disney World
Kentucky ~ Chicken
Texas ~ People that can't fit in their cars
Connecticut ~ Lyme Disease
Lyme Disease originated in CT due to deer ticks. See what I do? I make you laugh an learn. I'm like that chill teacher in school
Meg B Aug 2014
I love the way it feels
To be barefooted
In the park,
The normally unexposed
Flesh of my feet
Brushing the blades of
Slightly browned grass
And dirt.

I hear the chirping
Of insect correspondence,
Croaking like frogs
In loud crescendos.
The lush green leaves
On the trees with fat wooden trunks,
They glow yellow under the
Fluorescent night lamps.
The leaves crinkle and crackle,
Shimmy in the wind,
Creating a summer staccato
Against the sounds
Emerging from those
Ever-chattering crickets.

A light breeze kisses my skin,
Twisting itself around
The darkness,
Morphing into a double helix,
DNA of the
breath
Of
Fresh air,
The summer
Heat
Briefly catching
A
Cold.
Esz-Pe-Bea Jul 2014
Sometimes it just rains all day.
the sun and the moon and the stars
all take the day off,
Get all gloomy and introspective and ****.
drop deep thoughts
and fill up puddles
and bring meaning to things like
windshield wipers,
and lackluster poetry.


I'm still sixteen,
out much too late,
perched up on the steps of the old bank.
searching for reason
in the glare of small town streetlight.
I'm still seven
when it would just pour down,
I mean literally pour down,
in buckets and all that.
it doesn't rain like that anymore.
Not here. Not anymore.


A storm-front has been working it's way
up out of the southwest
since i have existed.
certainly much longer than that.
it's carved a path from caveman to Kentucky.
and here we are
continuously inspired
by water from the sky.


I'm going to sleep.
it just feels right.
I hope that it will rain all night.
I sleep well.
November 29th, 2011.. For a collection of Status Updates.
Ronni McIntosh Jul 2014
I walked in the valleys of Kentucky

the wind pressing gently on my brow,

ghost orchids whispered from the shadows,

the thrush beating time on the ground.

Gently lilted songs in the

Ancient somber tone of trees,

forgotten woods,

I searched for your mystery, and delved

in caves so dark so deep.

Never will I know the world you kept

under dewy leaves so green,

ancient people fought and mined and died

only things the earth has seen.
Ronni McIntosh Jul 2014
Bones are hard, hearts soft

But when old bones become soft

Buried in the ground

Beating hearts above grow hard.

— The End —