Short Appalachian Poems

ever-taxing trail
a sense of isolation
ambitious hikers...

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Deserted cabins
Trees gnarled by wailing winds
The sound of a bear...

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muddy waters recede
give up beloved dead recovered
appalachian songs eternal...

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Atop the Blue Ridge,
Along the Appalachian,
One Hundred miles wild....

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dreamy swaying matriarch
moonlight magnolia blossom bows glowing
appalachian southern sweetheart...

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I'm never going to see
the great rhododendron giants
of Virginia
or yell"Hey Bear",
on the Appalachian Trail
seven trails cross Damascus
not one to Jerusalem....

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long after midnight

he points out the big dipper...

grass for our pillows






___________________________________________
for Charles Henderson's Contest: "No Contest Contest"
/resubmitted for PD's Contest "Any haiku will do"...

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fresh Moonshine
hidden jars in barn
country road

~~~~~~~~~~~:::~~~~~~~~~~~

sweet corn from the field
natural grain distillation
liquid vapor flows

~~~~~~~~~~~:::~~~~~~~~~~~

mountain still brewing
transforming barley and rye
Appalachian!

~~~~~~~~~~~:::~~~~~~~~~~~...

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Leaves of the Appalachian hills.
Turning red and orange.
Burnt burgundy into smoky dreams.
Rainy days for you and me.

Is this not America?


October is warm this day.
Son playing the guitar
on the front porch swing. 
Ones on his way! home to stay.

Fall is for lovers who missed 
one another all summer.
Come back together again.
Till the spring....

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hey he was him
and she was her
Appalachian
wading

i found not a pond
and not a pool
but nothin we
could not

breath and or swim
and since it's all
relatively
speaking

she is my third
cousin removed
by my second aunt's
uncle's first university

room
mate so
what does
that make me?

other then
the shallow
end of the gene
puddle...

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.

Cast not to me the rose colored
          hearts poets blurt

      or thoughts of coolness
       from Appalachian falls

          or drinks that fog
              mine mind

        Just fastened hands
            bowed heads
              and maws
   to Jehovah God Almighty
                  call








*Uncle James will miss you Brandon !...

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Appalachian trails in the new morning’s dawn
This path today takes me past a haven for dear
My eyes have a treat as they witness a fawn
While my feet step quietly, for her to not hear

My heart, it has stopped, or so it now seems
As the beauty of nature surrounds here, my eyes
For awake I am, yet, it all plays like a dream
As peace finds my heart and my inner self sighs...

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Appalachian trails in the new morning’s dawn
This path today takes me past a haven for dear
My eyes have a treat as they witness a fawn
While my feet step quietly, for her to not hear

My heart, it has stopped, or so it now seems
As the beauty of nature surrounds here, my eyes
For awake I am, yet, it all plays like a dream
As peace finds my heart and my inner self sighs...

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.

        i watched this her
          tramp barefoot 
                'pon 
        appalachian stone
                 root
                 rock
          brown cracked
             shoots uv
                grass

      kiss mine boo-boos
                better

               tiz true
           
                 well
                 the "watched part"
                   ')
...

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showers of castanets 
on a tin roof
a stop-over for the night 
        on the longest hike

a bushel of owls 
in each drip of rain 
   aftershocks of mice nibbling through
the wires of a sleepless mind

listening 
through ear shaped microphones

pigeons scrabble overhead
       then clatter as they take off

the rain softens toward dawn
to a ten second splish
       
        time to move on...

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Appalachian Sister 

Wherever I roam, 
You go too.
A piece of home,
Follows.

A smile, a song,
The sound of an owl.
Those Appalachian mountains,
Live inside of me.

Your laughter,
The white water creeks.
Your voice,
The whispering winds.

Intertwined,
In my memories.
I think of one,
I think of the other.

Sisters,
And mountains.
Part of me,
We are never apart.

By: Darlene Doll Smith...

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THIS APPALACHIAN TOWN

up on the hill
the view of the ohio
river is magnificent
in the rising sun.
below a rusted barge
is puffing against
the current
working hard
to meet its
destination.
this is the rigid life
of this small
Appalachian town:
fighting the current
or stepping in
and drowning.
everyday choices
have to be made.

the barge chugs along.

Copyrighted
June 27, 2011
Jim Brewer...

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Emerald pines and jade laurels
Crisp, cool air misting beyond the range
Of peaks that ascend to meet
The clear, indigo heavens complete
With bleached snowy puffs of cotton
Drifting into silhouettes, characters
Both soft and yearning – floating
Into the horizon where they play
Dancing through the impression
Of a peaceful, tender moment
God’s artistic hand pressing down
Against the Appalachian mountains

...

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   Is man but a workhorse
      to be slowly ground to death

   To slice his limbs to ribbons
      on a slaughterhouse machine

   To breathe in sewer muck and mire
      or hurl on tractor-trailers never-ending tires       

   To toil in anonymity on a thankless assembly line
       or inhale the toxic fumes of an Appalachian coal mine… 

   Young man, learn a skilled trade or train for a profession 
       Life does not have to be misery and depression
...

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