Hi, Folks!
Well, after writing for Germain Media and Appalachian Memory Keepers for over two years it is time for me to step aside. It is time for someone else to showcase their experiences and views of our beloved Appalachian Mountains, Culture & People. I’m looking forward to being just a fan for a while.
What a journey this has been and it’s certainly an exciting time!
Kelley St. Germain, my brother from another mother, was among the first to recognize that I might have writing talent. What started out as a simple story about my friend Michael with a few of my photos has morphed into the Authors in Residence program of Appalachian Memory Keepers. The talent both Germain Media & Appalachian Memory Keepers have uncovered is simply astounding.
Skilled wordsmiths like Walt Hampton, Pamela Spencer Sizemore, Clara Spencer and Reta Jones Winebarger have raised the bar, not only entertaining me but also challenging me to be a better writer. For that I am indebted to them.
In particular, I would like to personally thank each and every one of you for having allowed me a few moments into your lives every Tuesday. Your kind words and encouragement have helped me soldier on more than you will ever know.
It is my sincerest hope that I have made you smile or touched your heart in some small way.
In final, Kelley told me some time back that a good writer would open themselves up in the pursuit of excellence.
With that, I have elected to follow his advice, leaving you with a poem I wrote quite a number of years ago. I hope it makes sense and that you enjoy it.
Y’all keep ‘em straight and I’ll see you in the comments!
The Gathering
They Gather In Clans
Wearing Sunday Best Attire
Needed Rest For Their Hands
A Quenching For Their Fire
Blue Denim Pointers
And Half Soled Shoes
Sinners & Saints
Soldiers In Gray and Blue
Soft Cotton Dresses
Tiny White Gowns
Free Flown Tresses
Adorning The Grounds
Tarnished Pocket Watches in Bibs
Breathless With Time
No Purpose to Give
No Reason, No Rhyme
Friends and Neighbors
Enemies and Kin
Rewarded for Labors
Taxed for Sins
Their Guests Are Tree Limbs
Tall Unkempt Grass
An Occasional Wind
Going Nowhere Fast
Cloaks of Clay
Secret Their Bones
All Those Who Lay
Neath These Stones
Steve Tweed
