You will come upon a hill
Where it’s as hush as the still night
This is the place where im from
beyond the mountains are adventurous trails you can walk or ride on for hours
Its a place where everyone knows one another
The trees tower over the neighborhood surrounding it, giving it shade on the bright, sunny days
Its a place where all the kids go out and play
Its Four Seasons, my neighborhood, my home
It’s where I belong.
Pounding chest
Starry eyes
The fear inside eating away
At every shred of humanity
And every once of will
Fear is the plague
That feeds and grows
Fear is the consumer of all
The eater of peace
The eater of worlds
Fear is always there
It lurks and waits
And strikes down the weak and fearful
Fear is the thought that eats away
At everything and all
Fear is a disease
Fear is a threat
Fear is Fear
Every year it gets harder,
can’t understand a thing.
I could tell you about Newton’s laws,
talk about wars or the Holocaust for days.
I could write an essay with perfect grammar and sentence structure.
But don’t ask me to find the value of x, the circumference of a circle, or the cosine of 32
No matter how hard I try,
I just can’t seem to figure it out.
We’ve been together since we were little kids
we’ve played softball since we were miney miners
now after all that time we’ve grown up
sprouted up like weeds in the garden
and after four long years in high school they are leaving
time has gone by so fast, I just can’t believe it
& a little after graduation, it will be time
Time to say goodbye
not forever, just for a while
I know we will keep in touch, so that makes me smile. 🙂
I’ve never known fear before,
not until May 4, 2010, when my world
came crashing down.
The fear of losing my mom,
the most amazing woman in my life,
was set in my mind.
All my family and friends gathered
at the hospital.
All wanting to hear the news.
Did she make it? Was she going to be okay?
The look on my aunts face said it all.
The fear of losing my mom
had just become
Reality.
Now that I’ve grown and moved away, I try to remember…
the house in Daytona, the ways I would light up when I saw his face,
Building sand castles at the beach and fishing in lakes.
The long drive back to West Virginia and the fun we had playing car games.
But I can’t seem to forget about going months without him and the day he left for good.
I guess he could come back now and try to repair the damage he’s done,
But it will never be the same.
It’s a small hollar
that runs beside my house.
I played there every summer
with my cousins, aunts, and uncles.
We looked for salamanders all day
until our bucket was full.
That hollar is where I spent most of my childhood days,
but looking back on it now,
the hollar that I enjoyed so much as a kid,
is now just a quiet little stream.
I don’t like change
I want everything to stay
The way it was
How perfect it was
The more memories you have
The harder it is to let go
The urge to pause that moment in time
To savor the last possible moment of sanity
Before it turns into chaos.
I don’t want to grow up
I don’t want to leave
I want to rewind into the past
When I knew nothing of the outside world
When I was still a curious kid
Climbing up doorways
Thinking Nickelodeon was thought-provoking television.
I know I can’t stop the inevitable
I have to face it soon
And I’m not ready.
Split second, thats how much time I had to choose between injury, life, or death.
Still yet to this day it’s scary to think about.
I was driving back from Charleston, doing speeds of about 65 mph.
I was coming through Chapmanville and the ride had been smooth along the way
& at that very second I noticed a car pulling out on the highway, directly in front of me.
At that very moment I saw my life flash before my eyes
Being about 10 feet away from crashing into him, I had no choice
In a split second, I was forced to either hit him, or veer into the passing lane, for I was going way too fast to stop.
So I veered into the next lane, and thank God there wasn’t a car in that passing lane or the results could’ve been disastrous
Thank God.
I come from a family of amazing cooks,
but I am far from amazing.
They can make the best cakes, or pies, or
anything you can think of.
But me,
I could probably burn water.
I want to learn,
but no one will teach me.
I want to keep the cooking tradition going,
but the way it’s going now
that’s not going to happen.
You will come to a little hollar
where everyone is one big family.
Houses line both sides of the road,
squeezed together like sardines in a can.
This is the hollar that will to you to my house.
As you drive down the one lane road,
you will see friendly faces and
people hard at work.
A small brick church will appear on the right.
That’s the church where I’ve gone since I was little
and continue to go to today.
Past the church live many of my cousins, aunts, and
uncles.
On a hill sits a small white house that
holds many of my greatest memories.
That house is where I love to be,
It’s Home.
You will come to a quiet town
surrounded by trees that dance in the wind.
Every so often
you’ll see a small business hidden by the mountains.
Keep driving…
Passed the Chevron gas station, beyond the playground, and over the railroad tracks.
Find the blue building, the worn out “Colane” sign barely hanging on.
You will come across small houses, pastel in color.
The cracked sidewalk runs beside the metal fences, leading you to where
I call home.
Loved ones
passed and gone
when all you have left to remember them are past memories alone
you think of the good times
and you think of the bad
and every once in a while you might get sad
but as time goes on, the weak get stronger
and although you miss them, you begin to accept what has happened
you realize that death is a part of life
but every night before I go to bed
I roll over to see that picture of Grandpa
sitting on my night stand.
My mother cheers for me
as I’m standing on the mound
trying to strike out the batter.
1,2,3 – she’s out.
Heading toward the dugout
a scream catches my attention.
It’s my sister.
My mom was laying motionless on the ground
next to my aunt.
Everyone surrounds her trying to get her awake.
Nothing works.
As we call for an ambulance,
the team gathers in the dugout to pray.
We see the ambulance approaching
after what seems like forever.
Hurrying to the hopsital, I pray and pray
that this ain’t the end.
We arrive and wait to hear the news.
My aunt comes out, her head down and
all I hear is,
“I’ll take good care of you.”
The tears flooded from my face.
My mother was gone.
And I wasn’t ready.
In the icy winter
When the sky is engulfed in black
And the eery white is all you see
A cold desolate wasteland
Of endless white
Among the winter desert
On the highest icy ledge
Is a tree
A single solidary tree
The story this tree holds
Is unknown
And unable to read
Those who gathered at the tree
For refuge
Along this white vastness
Or a reminder that beauty exists
Even in the most barren of places.
PenTherapy 