Long North carolina Poems
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Voting day will soon arrive for North Carolina, Nebraska, Indiana and Idaho too.
If you live in any of these four states, this poem was written specifically for you.
Obama needs your vote and he'll be thankful if he gets it.
If you vote for him, I'll guarantee that he won't forget it.
Mister Obama is against the war.
He will not stand for it anymore.
A lot of our soldiers have been killed and their families are in a lot of pain.
If Obama becomes President, he'll bring our troops home unlike McCain.
On election day America wants to hear your voice.
If you vote for Obama, he'll appreciate your choice.
Long Distant Love
(Lyrics & Music by Joan Donnelly Ellis October 16, 2014) (Inspired by James MacMaster,my Grandson & his girlfriend Anna Clendening from North Carolina)
I want to hold you close to me
And feel your warm embrace
I want to silence all your fears
And see your smiling face
If I could kiss you anytime
It sure would be so right
But this long distant love affair
Makes it hard to sleep at night
I wake up each morning
And my first thoughts are of you
And the fun we had in Carolina
In the moments that were too few
I was missing you even before
I boarded the aeroplane.
And I wondered when I could return
To be with you again
Long distant love is painful
But what am I to do
Live chat with you is better than nothing I know
But it leaves my heart aching and so blue
Yes, long distant love is painful
But what am I to do
Live chat with you is better than nothing I know
But it leaves my heart aching and so blue....I'm sure missing you.
Do you know
Where the wind blows
How do you go
To where the wind blows
On accompany bound
North Carolina found
Down the coast
Out the window of a greyhound
Day dreams
Just won’t let me sleep sound
“Life’s a gamble
At terrible odds
If it were a bet
How would you take it”
Up at the lighthouse
Lake Superior, I’m here
Skating across the ice
Minnesota’s lovely winter song
Downtown Duluth
Across the red bridge on my own
It was a five card draw
Cocaine in an empty mans straw
Little blind short
It was big blinds bluff
Inordinate of a pack of Newport’s
Fell in love waving goodbye at the airport
Welcome back home
Were you lost or alone
Because you’re no one
Just as were when you left
Did you find your fun
Hitchhiking all by yourself
I made it back to peace
On a coarse to no where
Fresh out of Love Joy, Georgia
Do you know
Where the wind blows
How do you go
To where the wind blows
“2.99 for the box,
on sale.”
"How much was the burger meat?"
"Nine dollars. Meat is always expensive, Ben."
Ben stirs his Italian ice
into lemonade
The bathtub is full
of cold water
The dryer is full
of damp clothes
The sink is full
of half-eaten meals
My 13-year-old wedding plates
used to showcase birds on branches
but the birds flew away
It is ten at night in July in North Carolina
I can't decide
if I am satisfied
or complacent
I count days between rain
because it is more honest than time
or clear-cut certainty
Turtles know true direction
and monarchs always know
their way home
I am jealous of them, too
I watch Ben stir his melting ice
to consistency
I adore his fascination
for little things:
the circumference
of his thriving watermelon,
the yellow flowers
of cucumber plants,
his pride in making things grow
“Try the lemonade, mom”
If the first day is any indication…I can feel it in my heart
2026 is off to a wonderful start.
It began quite beautifully as we awoke…to a sight that makes all lovers swoon.
there in the ebony sky was a waxing gibbous moon.
Her moonlight lit up the clouds stretching far and wide…
just before she smiled, waved then descended down the mountain side.
It has been our tradition in Florida…a treat for our heart and eyes
to watch the sunset over the ocean New Years Eve
then New Years Day go out and watch her rise.
And up in the mountains of North Carolina with the new year about to arrive
we wanted to ensure we kept our New Years tradition alive.
The sunset was easy…all we had to do was open our back door…
but according to Google its 450 miles to the nearest ocean shore…
Deciding against the 7-8 hour drive that it would take
we decided to watch the sunrise 15 minutes away…
in Junaluska over her lake.
So we bundled up and prepared ourselves for the January freeze…
which was smart because the temperature at the lake was 27 degrees.
We waited by the water watching the clouds changing colors
as across the sky they’d snake…
We watched contrails light up the sky as geese swam across the lake.
But when the sun peeked over the mountain…her light both bright and bold
we decided it was worth the wait…standing in the cold.
So our tradition was complete…a treat for our 73 year old eyes
We watched the sunset on 2025 and on the first day of 2026
we watched that same sun rise.
When it was time to head back to our cabin…once we got in the car to go
Stevie Wonder’s ‘I Just Called To Say I Love You’ was playing on the radio.
A sunset, a gibbous moon, a sunrise…and Stevie Wonder ringing in our ears…
Yes, 2026 has all the earmarks to be a wonderful year.
For as long as I can remember, I have always liked basketball. I even made the team when I was in the 8th grade and rather small.
Why, I liked the NBA until there were too many games and the competition disappeared. Perhaps I'd love it again if fewer teams made the playoffs and
unpredictability reappeared. Until then, I'll enjoy the college kids of the
NCAA and the fever known as March Madness. Whether your team is
seeded number 16 or number 1, you've got one shot to be the best. One
team matched against another and it's 'One and done', or lose just one and
go home. Or, you can keep winning and climb the ladder to cut the net for yourself and your team alone.
You could even reach The Final Four as an eleven seed, which is why March Madness is a thrill. And your name does not have to be Duke, Kentucky, or North Carolina to be still playing in April.
03282018 FBPS
Perhaps the most cherished treasure our cabin in North Carolina holds…
besides the views, the birds, the sunsets, the cool crisp mountain air..
is how we know…once we open the door
all the memories waiting for us there.
Since Deborah’s mom and dad built this cabin back in 1981
It’s enjoyed over 40 years of memories…
over 40 years of family, friends and fun.
Memories of each season…summer, winter, spring and fall
Memories of our children and grandchildren echo off these walls.
Yes, these walls, if you listen, have a million stories to tell
Because the memories aren’t just ours…but of many other families as well.
And as we listen to all the memories this cabin in the woods has had
we’re reminded all these memories started with Deborah’s mom and dad.
Her father was a quiet man in his garden he found the peace he sought
Her mother was loquacious…which means she liked to talk a lot!
Both of them loved sitting on the porch listening to the birds
Both showed us time and time again how actions speak louder than words.
They loved it when we visited…
And every memory we made with them on these walls has left a trace…
So in whoever’s mind that memory surfaces…it leaves a smile on their face.
And though they’ve been a long time now that’s the beauty of a memory
how we can actually feel a person…whom we no longer can see.
And herein lies the beauty…the legacy of their cabin…
Not only how 40 year of memories are in this cabin blending
but how each person who enters adds another link
to a chain of memories that’s never-ending
Written By: D. Collins 2/26/24
When I hear "a country of immigrants" I wince in pain.
Because one ethnic group traveled here in chains.
They didn't walk across the border seeking a better life.
They were snatched from bed, men, children, and wives.
Once they got to America they were sold off like beef.
A father to North Carolina, wife and kids to Mississippi.
Forced to work like a mule and bred with a new family.
Whipped, branded, and forced to practice Christianity.
Imagine the original slaves who were not yet programmed.
The trauma they suffered being snatched from their land.
On that initial voyage the slavers learned on-the-fly.
And, all subsequent trips, had it down to a science.
Anything after that, is "dotting" the "I's" of progress.
Including Tubman, Douglas, King, and Malcolm X.
I feel a kinship with the souls who made the first trip.
To let their story be told by someone knowing of it.
Our cabin in North Carolina was built by Deborah’s mom and dad in 1983…
It rests on the side of a mountain…nestled in among the trees.
When Deborah’s dad was alive he had a garden terraced off at the bottom of the yard.
He built a pathway to this garden…to make the walk down there…not quite as hard.
This was no easy task…you have to understand…
as he molded each square out of cement…and placed them in the ground by hand.
When our family would visit in the summer time…
our children would run up and down his steps with smiles and wide eyes..
to pick vegetables and blackberries from his garden…play in the woods
or in the evening to chase fireflies….
Our grandchildren used his steps to take them to a fort we made when they were small
Our dog Whitman used his steps chasing countless tennis balls.
When Grandpa was alive he kept his steps in perfect condition…
clean with no weeds around them,…
because he knew when we would visit…our children would be running up and down them.
But Grandpa is no longer with us and our children and grandchildren have grown…
which means Grandpa’s path…once used to play on and explore…
those 41 steps that led to countless adventures…aren’t used as often anymore.
As children grow their interests change and their desires to play in the yard wane…
now on Grandpa’s path…up and down those steps…only memories remain…
But that doesn’t stop me every summer…once we arrive…
from taking a hoe a sickle and a little brush too..
and cleaning off each step on the path…just like Grandpa used to do.
It is a labor of love…making sure Grandpa’s path is as perfect as it used to be…
because on the one hand I know somewhere…Grandpa’s smiling down on me…
But I also have an ulterior motive…each year I’m on my own crusade
to make that path exactly the way it was when our children’s memories were made.
So if you happen to visit us in the summer at the cabin…
and you see an old main in the yard with a hoe, a sickle and a little brush too
Don’t be alarmed…he’s just getting an old path ready for summer…
just like Grandpa use to do.
Life is a series of fleeting adventures…we never truly know what’s in store
as each day we add new adventures to the ones we’ve had before.
We sold our little camper yesterday…she is tiny, white and blue
her kitchen’s on the outside…inside she comfortably sleeps two.
She was our home away from home…providing security, comfort and shade…
on adventures we experienced…from North Carolina to the Everglades.
One off the things I love about memory…(if this theory I may venture)
is how a memory paints itself on every piece…every portion of an adventure.
Memories are painted on the people and places we visit…near or far…large or small…
(Why they even painted themselves on the inside of our teardrop camper’s walls.)
I love how, once that coat of paint is applied…its layer is permanent…her to stay
which means the memory, once painted, will never fade away.
Because when the creators created the paint used for memories they added a surprise:
the paint we use to paint a memory….remains fluid…it never dries.
Which allows our memories, just like our adventures, once they have been poured…
to blend with all the memories of all the adventures that came before.
I suppose that’s why we were filled with a mix of emotions yesterday
as we said goodbye to our little camper…as we watched her drive away..
Why a few tears found their way to our smiles…
a little sadness to our grins…
as for our little camper….and for us…
a new adventure begins.