"hillbilly" poems
I sit at the bar of life
Looking forward to happy hour
Another beer
A solicited romance
Something
Even a bowl of peanuts that never came
How I yearn for conversation
Warmth
I can only dream
Seated a few chairs away
Is a rainbow haired hillbilly
Backpacking possums
Gees
Can you imagine
He said he lives under
The outskirts of ****** land
He smiles
I smile
I catch a bee from behind
As the bartendress walk by
My eyes look at her behind
And catch honey
My claim to fame
Oh how I wish I were a bee
And had somebody
Like the rainbow haired hillbilly
That tends under the outskirts of ****** land
I look over at him
He's always smiling
Maybe it has something to do
With playing a fiddle and finding music, finding new paths
Goats and milk
And backpacking possums
Or maybe its sublime
Oh, how I wish I could smile
Feel warmth
Sunshine
And look into her peering eyes
Logan Robertson
7/16/18
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 12:16 AM UTC
For the first two months of college I didn’t speak
Convinced everyone here are hillbilly freaks
Then you asked to borrow my paint brush
Long brown hair in a bun and brows so lush
I gave it to you in a heartbeat
Because you were the first person I thought was neat
Im still not sure how I got so lucky to befriend you
I’ve never felt a connection this real and true
When we sit in the forest smoking **** and cigarettes
And you’re still wearing the same paint covered sweats
Singing to Rihannon by Fleetwood Mac
I felt myself gaining my soul back
I can’t decipher what’s hiding behind your dark brown eyes
But your passion for art is as tall as the skies
You inspired me to change my point of view
Maybe this place isnt so bad, who knew
Your kindness cracked my heart’s thick shell
And painted the lines with shades of pastel
No boy ever told me they cried when they moved away
Your open and truthful soul makes everything ok
The freckles sprayed on your cheeks are like artwork
That’s a companion piece to your crooked smirk
I cried thinking we would drift apart once school’s done
But you told me we’ll always be friends in the long run
So
Thank you
Thank you for being my friend
Thank you for being who you are
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 1:30 AM UTC
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the hills
The kinfolk were drinkin' as they tend to their stills
The longjohns were hung by the chimney with care
No stockings were found, just underwear
The children were nestled so high in their bunks
Their quilts made of skins from rabbits and skunks
Granny with her false teeth and gun on her knee
Was waiting for Santa as she sat by the tree
From out of the barn there arose such a noise
We thought it was Grandpa drinkin' with the boys
But what to my wandering eye should appear
It was just cousin Cleatus in mama's brassiere
And then from the rooftop we heard it at last
Like the sound of thunder or a shot gun blast
We have Christmas dinner, it's finally here
Granny kidnapped Santa while we shot his deer
Venison all covered with onions for stew
And even old Santa enjoyed some too
His belly was full when he walked out the door
But he couldn't resist when we offered him more
Well that's the story of our Christmas here
Merry Christmas to all 'til the same time next year
© All Rights Reserved
Dec 8, 2010
Dec 8, 2010 at 7:17 AM UTC
It turned cold quickly
Almost skipping Autumn
Reluctant to wear a jacket
Or a hat, or gloves
Too distant for my arms
To keep him warm against my chest
He said he never wore a scarf
But if he did, he would go Dr. Who style
I had to laugh as i looked up the reference
Fifteen feet of mismatched stripes
Maybe not the stripes, he said
I happened upon a huge skein of yarn
It felt like a warm blanket in the oddest,
Most interesting colors
Manly, neutral, and perfect for Fall
So i crocheted a scarf and pictured him warm
The pattern in those colors was a mess
I chuckled at why they would make such an ugly pattern
I crocheted every stitch with love
Through arthritic hands that felt no pain
I crocheted a scarf, stopping only when it dragged the floor when i put it on
Two feet short, but ridiculously long
I bordered it in shades of green to match
Not realizing it was variegated into Brown's and maroons along the way
But it matched the odd mix of colors
And finally made it almost pretty to me
I covered myself in perfume
And put it around my neck
As I turned I caught a glimpse in the mirror
It wasn't a horrible amalgamation of hideous colors
It was camouflage, with a matching border
I laughed so hard, and felt so bad
My hillbilly in camouflage
Wearing a scarf way too long
Maybe he would hate it
Maybe he won't wear it
I knew better
So, I packed up his bag of gifts
And sent it to the frozen mountains
He never wore a scarf
He opened it and put it on
It smells like You, he said in blssful remembrances
It's definitely camouflage, he laughed
It's perfect baby, I'll wear it whenever it's cold
And in the picture he sent
I saw its beauty
It wasn't in the patterns of crisscrossing colors
It wasn't in the accidental way
The border perfectly complimented the body
It wasn't in the fact that he would be able
To wrap himself up in me to stay warm
It was in that picture
It was the joy that filled his smile
It was in his eyes that danced in love
It was in the fact that he believes
Because i made it, it's perfect
Yes, i accidentally crocheted a thirteen foot camouflage scarf
And he loves that I can keep him warm.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC
There's Dasher and Dancer
Then Prancer and *****
Comet and Cupid
Then Donner and Blitzen
If you think these are reindeer
Then you would be wrong
And it's not crazy words
In some Christmassy song
See, they are my brothers
Don't anybody laugh
For these are hillbilly names
From Polecat Path
It's a place in the hills
In East Tennesee
On the top of a mountain
As high as can be
Here, Christmas is different
There's no reindeer or sleigh
We use an old covered wagon
It works better that way
We make toys in the smoke house
For most of the year
While smoking our hams
'Til Christmas is near
Then we load up the wagon
With granny on the reins
Her wooden teeth all gummy
With rootbeer stains
Now the wagon is pulled
By my brothers and I
We're plumb tuckered out
'Cause people can't fly
Well, you get the picture
About Christmas in the hills
It's a hillbilly adventure
On wagon wheels
Now there's much more to tell
But it's time to run off
'Cause we're loading the wagon
Your friend, Rudolph
Nov 3, 2010
Nov 3, 2010 at 8:16 PM UTC
Born in these hills, taken away
when I was three.
Son of a coal miner who took
my mother, my brother, and me.
Drove west to the ocean, Pacific.
The kids there called me "hillbilly" and "hick."
Said I talked funny. Punched me, kicked me,
generally tried their best to make sure
I knew I didn’t belong there.
And I did not.
Eventually, though,
I learned to speak like them,
dress like them, act as if I was not
from Kentucky, my daddy
was not Appalachian, that
these mountains had no part of me.
My only recourse was
after the pledge of allegiance…
I never sang the “Oregon” song.
I sang, "Kentucky."
But, my father, he wouldn’t change.
He was proud of his heritage.
He played banjo; he played mandolin;
he went fishing, a lot.
Grew the best garden in the county,
ate soup beans and cornbread.
He did not give a hang for their Yankee ways.
I hated him. I hated my father.
until I returned to these hills.
Now I see them,
I see him,
in me.
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 6:53 AM UTC
The city makes my heart beat change
To a speed I can't endure
I start to sweat and I can't breathe
To me there only is one cure
I have to leave the city life
Leave the commotion far behind
I've got to hit the country
For that is where I'll find
I have got a hillbilly heart
It's beats in banjo time
I have got a hillbilly heart
Out here, I feel just fine
City roads, and shopping malls
Get me riled and confused
I go home feeling *****
I go home feeling used
I've got to get away from here
Or I will lose my mind
I've got to hit the country
For that is where I'll find
I have got a hillbilly heart
It's beats in banjo time
I have got a hillbilly heart
Out here, I feel just fine
I have got a hillbilly heart
It's here that I belong
I have got a hillbilly heart
And it sings a bluegrass song
I have got a hillbilly heart
And it sings a bluegrass song
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 6:35 PM UTC
today is ****** monday
there's one knocking on
my front door
he is scribbled and bleeding
from his forearms,
he carries a pigeon on a leash
and gets high on hotrod drivers' eyes.
i'll give him two pints of hillbilly sugar
and a book of voodoo pictures,
but he insists upon my daughter
and at least 3 lines of coke.
instead i hand him a corn on the cob
and the number of the girl scout troop up the road,
he asks me for one more moose head and although
i'm almost out, the sun is still yellow
so i pour him a double brandy
because
today is ****** monday
there's one
driving naked down
a one way street
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 12:37 AM UTC
For all who have been wondering
Let me set the story straight
About the hillbilly holidays
Before it gets too late
We don't have an Easter possum
This tale is just a myth
It's a cute little bunny with a basket
To collect our Easter eggs with
And Cupid don't wear overalls
And fly around with a gun
He shoots them tiny little arrows
But we know it's all in fun
And Santa still has his reindeer
Not a horse tied to his sleigh
We leave him milk and cookies
Not moonshine like they say
The Tooth Fairy is not toothless
This simply isn't true
She always leaves us money
Just like the rest of you
And of course that leaves Thanksgiving
So what else could I say
We eat turkey like everyone else
On this Hillbilly Holiday
So now that everyone understands
That hillbilly is just a name
It don't matter where you live
Our holidays are all the same
Hillbillies are like everyone else
And there's nothing for you to fear
If you ever have anymore questions
Well, Ya'll come back now, hear?
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 9:04 PM UTC
I know
NOW
after
all these years
how
it was
You
trapped me
...You won
me
over
all else
...You
were gifted
I
searched
the world over
for...
someone
possesing
KNOWLEDGE....
all
...the right words
You
became
all of me.
How did
you do that
....when
you had
never ever
even
stepped
one foot
out of your...
...Appalachia
*******
MAGICK!!!
...Not the good kind.
...Hillbilly
GREATNESS
you
were
bought and
you
were paid
for
EVIL intention.
... all you
will ever
be.
in
my mind
good riddance
*******
hillbilly.
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 11:37 PM UTC
The house on the hill
Lived a man called Bill
After he met his wife
He had no life
He is tall
But looks like a ball
And round
Looked like a clown
On rainy days,
He gives a grumpy face
If ever children comes
He hits them all dumb
He loves pineapple tarts
Always gives a notorious ****
His name is bill
And he lives in the house on a hill.
Jul 31, 2011
Jul 31, 2011 at 5:48 AM UTC
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the hills
The kinfolk were drinkin' as they tend to their stills
The longjohns were hung by the chimney with care
No stockings were found, just underwear
The children were nestled so high in their bunks
Their quilts made of skins from rabbits and skunks
Granny with her false teeth and gun on her knee
Was waiting for Santa as she sat by the tree
From out of the barn there arose such a noise
We thought it was Grandpa drinkin' with the boys
But what to my wandering eye should appear
It was just cousin Cleatus in mama's brassiere
And then from the rooftop we heard it at last
Like the sound of thunder or a shot gun blast
We have Christmas dinner, it's finally here
Granny kidnapped Santa while we shot his deer
Venison all covered with onions for stew
And even old Santa enjoyed some too
His belly was full when he walked out the door
But he couldn't resist when we offered him more
Well that's the story of our Christmas here
Merry Christmas to all 'til the same time next year
© All Rights Reserved
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 8:14 PM UTC
One night while I was sleeping
The bed began to shake
I knew right then without a doubt
That I was wide awake
Here they come once again
To take me for a ride
I saw their flying saucer
It was much too late to hide
So I put on my old blue jeans
And headed for the door
When I saw this giant beam of light
That ****** me off the floor
I knew exactly what they wanted
And no they didn't use a probe
They didn't **** my brains out
Or even ask me to disrobe
They were looking for a hillbilly
To teach them a thing or two
Like how to skin a possum
And how to make rattlesnake stew
Them aliens were some friendly folk
They said they liked the way I talked
They told me that was the reason
That I was the one they stalked
They asked me about beef jerky
And how to tan a hide
I showed them my old **** dog
As they watched me beam with pride
They said they really liked my truck
And wanted to take it for a spin
So I stuck that thing in four-wheel drive
And you should have seen them grin
When the night was finally over
I thought I heard them say
We'll be coming back real soon
As I watched them fly away
I only had one problem
As I sat there on the ground
Them aliens done up and stole
My very best blue tick hound
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 9:00 PM UTC
The 7 wonders of the world
Is quite a sight to see
But it don't compare to what we have
In the hills of Tennessee
Uncle Zebs cow is a big ole thing
Quite a sight to behold
That cow's so big that when they milk her
Her udders even have to unfold
Cousin Zeke has a six-legged mule
And man that thing is fast
One time he raced a bobcat
And the bobcat finished last
My granny's teeth are made of wood
Of course, they were bought from a store
But ever since that termite season
She don't use them much no more
Aunt Imojean has a twine collection
That she started when she was three
I guess if we unwound that thing
It'd reach clear 'cross Tennessee
Cousin Jake has a rattlesnake
He pickled and stuffed in a jar
He caught that thing a year ago
Trying to run off with his car
Uncle Randolph has this chicken
Who howls and barks at the moon
That poor chicken is so dadgum old
That she has to be fed with a spoon
Uncle Sam has the seventh wonder
An invisible moonshine still
We ain't seen it since he made it
But it's somewhere on that hill
So, after you think you've seen it all
You haven't seen anything yet
Come to the hills of Tennessee
And see things you'll never forget
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 9:07 PM UTC
there was a little billy goat as happy as can be
he lived in the mountains a hillbilly goat was he
he loved country music that was his favourite thing
he could play a fiddle and even used to sing.
people came from miles just here him play
to his country music they would dance all day
they would dance for hours to his country beat
clapping oh so loud as they moved there feet.
everyone was happy as they sang along
to the little goat playing them a song
when the day was over and it was time to stop
he put a way his fiddle then into bed would hop.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 10:38 AM UTC
You once said I read too much Le Carré
or maybe Guevara, which could be true
but I’m really just a hillbilly at heart
with dreams of going to Chile with you
on a fast boat running guns, but no más
because you, you can dream forever
without ever remembering who I was
lying in your bed somewhere in Argentina
reading Borges, wearing that black beret
you brought with you from Bolivia, sweet
Olivia, daydreaming of nights with Che.
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 10:22 PM UTC
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the hills
The kinfolk were drinkin' and tending their stills
The longjohns were hung by the chimney with care
No stockings were found, just underwear
The children were nestled so high in their bunks
Their quilts made of skins from rabbits and skunks
Granny with her false teeth and gun on her knee
Was waiting for Santa as she sat by the tree
From out of the barn there arose such a noise
We thought it was Grandpa drinkin' with the boys
But what to my wandering eye should appear
It was just cousin Cleatus in mama's brassiere
And then from the rooftop we heard it at last
Like the sound of thunder or a shot gun blast
We have Christmas dinner, it's finally here
Granny kidnapped Santa while we shot his deer
Venison all covered with onions for stew
And even old Santa enjoyed some too
His belly was full when he walked out the door
But he couldn't resist when we offered him more
Well that's the story of our Christmas here
Merry Christmas to all 'til the same time next year
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 11:09 AM UTC
Folksy blokes, like ya struttin’ ya thang
If you’ve come out of da Grand Ole Opry
But, won’t stay around for any old music sang
If it’s causing their head, to bob up and down and go all floppy
While rugged mountain men riding in some country rodeo
Can just step right up, to a Appalachia recording studio
Put down several tracks and become a worldwide pop star
They sing about hillbilly ways, while cogging or flatfooting from afar
Talking ‘bout wild hogs, gators, foxes & how so many more
Taste so great, using leftovers as bait & making real men roar
Old fables, told through pictures and patterns, upon knitted quilt
Even showing the feuding days of the Hatfields versus McCoys
From both sides of Tug Fork stream, with many unemployed
Although Asa and Devil Anse, said, ‘they hadn’t much guilt’
All because of a judge and 5000 acres of unusable swamp land
Once owned, by a close kissin’ cousin named, Perry Cline
Who didn’t even get any blood on his hand
They started a war, that could’ve been stopped
By a bottle or two, of good ole mountain moon-shine
Both clans almost wiped out, if last man standing had accidentally dropped.
Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 10:40 PM UTC
Hillbilly Music
Grandpa got the boys to gather at night.
Grandpa on the fiddle is so sweet.
Old Pa on the big bass can really make it sing.
Uncle Joe plays a mean wash tube.
While I slap the knees with my spoons.
The sound of old rocky top
Brings the valley to the hills.
We play all night long
As the sing the songs.
The hills do rock to the hillbilly sound.
Of nothing can be finer the being in Carolina.
Hillbilly music is the sweetness of the hills.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 10:09 AM UTC
Why bother with a dollar when you can get down in the holler
play in the water with an otter and every other crawler
just like my father, who was half hillbilly half ***** collar
looking at a picture so much smaller, like a backwoods scholar
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 11:04 AM UTC
The rain pelts the window,
The Boyfriend who tries to get my attention,
Throwing its rocks at the window,
But I ignore and continue on with my work.
Mrs. Livingston wants a paper written
A 5 page paper
And Things like annoying rain mustn’t distract me.
Though the rain is easy to ignore
There is one thing that I can’t ignore.
Him.
He is there in the back of my mind
Occupying the space where numbers from math class should be,
Where my History homework on Napoleon should be,
Where He shouldn’t be.
Golden eyes flash before me once the room goes white,
A scent seduces my nose though it’s in my mind
Just a memory brought back to life
A ghost intruding when it need not.
Why? Why can’t he leave me alone?
Yet I know it’s not him that’s in the wrong
It’s me
And My gay ways.
Latching onto him
Clasping his words in its hands
Soaking up every syllable
Every word
Everything about him
Like a sponge soaking up the bubbles , suds, water, and germs.
The paper! I must get back to the paper!
He can’t be in my mind when I have much writing to do.
But
I like him.
More than like him.
I remember when at first I dug my heels into the ground
Refusing to fall
Then as time went on
The heels got eroded
The ground beneath me got eroded
My determination was eroded.
And
I
Fell.
An object forced to the ground not because of gravity
But because he had something about him
Something that made my body sing,
With bulking, twisting, and jittering.
Was it his smile?
That one little curve.
That one little curve with such shine
And such sweetness
It could melt ice
And have more sugar than a pack of Hershey Kisses.
Maybe his hair?
The constant loops
Of Wheat
Of sand
Of soft wool.
Taking me on a ride that never seem to end.
Or perhaps his Words and Speech?
The constant dragging out words
The sweet tune of the Hillbilly in his vocals.
Lost in his words that never made sense
Until I thought more of it.
Or maybe his demeanor?
The laid back student who dreams of going cross country in a van.
The one who seems to have everything figured when he can’t figure if he is up or down.
The one who attracts the negative and it turns to problems
The one who surprises me with his out of the blueness.
And takes me on such a high that it shatters by heart when he drops me.
I have to stop.
He is taken from me
That is a thought I mustn’t forget.
Why spend this time
Thinking
Wanting
Loving
Liking
Wishing
Hoping
When he has been taken from me.
I must finish the paper.
I don’t have much time.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 10:43 PM UTC
Why fight for a dollar when I can get down in a holler
jump in the water or run with the smaller
swim with the otters, and crawl with the crawlers
don't Feed me fodder, I'm a hillbilly scholar
why bend at the knees when I can climb in the trees
perch with the birds and buzz with the bees
why pay the fees, when I can be free with the breeze
doing what I please in a life of ease
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
Sure as heck wouldn't fall
for that "Oh its my favourite
book & I keep it by my bedside
trick" & gather chubby Christian
flunkeys to pray over & anoint
a fascist idiot child,
Would see right through using
a grieving widow as a prop for
a photo-shoot extravaganza,
& then talk of record applause
lines like this was America's
Most Talented & he was a cheap
*** promoter milking the crowd,
Wouldn't for a second fall for
the Syrian children carry an
infection to the nation & must
be denied entry because you
never know but of course we can
because deranged white folks are
more of a threat,
Sure as **** could tell the difference
between a good apostle & that
scheming White Supremacist
Bannon & the bald dude who
endlessly talks of his overlord
being obeyed or **** sure you'll
all be for it,
Would most definitely not need
a golden crapper to rest his fat
white *** on & a golden stroller
for his special one & lacquered
mirrored sitting room that looks
like a hillbilly wet-dream version of
of 'how rich folks dun live rightly,'
Would most definitely not be seen
wearing that stupid red hat which
more than hints at a long gone
world with shades of whiteness
& exclusion & don't come knocking
on my door you pitiful wretch you,
Would never in a million friggin'
years have voted Republican &
sided with a lying, duplicitous
con-man with all the shades of
darkness that usually are reserved
for the actual Fallen Angels.
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 12:14 PM UTC
how is it
this small town girl
backwoods
redneck
white trash
lives in a trailer
kind of girl
can get a man like you?
my socks don't match
I have sailors mouth
I drink beer from a can
shop at goodwill
yet you look at me like i'm an angel
motorcycle gangs
hillbilly roughnecks
hang in a bar that has a wood stove for heat
and I make YOUR heart beat?
faster?
louder?
the day I met you
I thought "yeah right"
"im so not his type"
"he likes blond girls, who wear pearls and skirts"
things like "LOVE PINK" on their Tshirts
but no....
it's me....?
seriously??
me?
in his shoes, that match his shirt, that match his hat
he said
"I fell in love with you the day I met you"
and our two worlds collide
its like winning the love lottery
and I am the god **** jackpot winner
MEGA MILLIONS FOR LIFE *******
I won a man who makes me richer
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 5:48 PM UTC