Poetry

Laborer

Daddy said I had to register For school all by myself. "You can write now, hon," he said, "So do it by yourself." The teacher stopped to help me out As she knelt there by my side. "What is this word?" I asked of her "Father's occupation," she replied. "Where does he work?" she asked… Continue reading Laborer

Poetry

Home, To Me

Traveling is my secret passion; Oftentimes, I love to roam. But when asked, I like to tell folks Of the mountains I call home. Home, to me, is Smoky Mountains With her mists floating towards the sky; Bright profusion of wild flowers, Autumn colors that blind the eye. Honeysuckle, Rhododendron, Pine trees standing proud and… Continue reading Home, To Me

Poetry

General Store

The door would open with a swing; I could smell the fresh oiled floor. My favorite place on earth to be Was the local General Store. My dusty feet on hardwood floors On a sunny summer day, Or blasting heat from an old wood stove Keeping winter winds at bay. Large glass cases displayed the… Continue reading General Store

Poetry

Fishin’

My brothers spent their summers fishin' And always wanted me to go. I would've fished with them all summer If I didn't hate worms so. But their pleading finally swayed me, So we drove to their favorite spot, Slid down the bank and climbed over rocks To the shade, where it wasn't so hot. I… Continue reading Fishin’

Poetry

Gardening

Daddy tilled the lot beside our house With a horse and plow each year. A full day's work, that plowing was With rocks making it hard to steer. We worked from daybreak until dark When planting time came around, With Daddy watching the moon's phase To put seed in the ground. My brother shoveled, I… Continue reading Gardening

Poetry

Marm

Her given name was Miriam, But the old folks called her "Marm." She was well into her eighties Before I was ever born. How I loved to hear her stories As I'd sit upon her bed, Dating back to eighteen-hundreds And the life that she had led. Her springhouse stood just down the road With… Continue reading Marm

Poetry

Momma’s Kitchen

It was raining cold and bitter As I hurried toward the door, Knowing Mom was in the kitchen, So good treats would be in store. Smells of home assailed my senses; Mom was baking apple pie. Biscuits fresh, right from the oven Piping hot, they caught my eye. Pinto beans were cooking slowly While outside… Continue reading Momma’s Kitchen