. . . A dog barks farther up the trail,
and I know we are not alone
though all we can hear above the creek’s
rumble is an occasional wren in . . . Continue Reading
. . . as filtered sunlight sparks gems
on the cascading water, the last section streaming
over in thin sheets and strings, with globs plunging
down like thrown goblets of . . . Continue Reading
. . . an old dirt road meanders under oak and beech, past rhododendron, through a shallow creek and out into light,
meadows on either side. At the end of the road . . . Continue Reading
Congratulations Colette Tennant!
. . . Way back in the holler squats an abandoned house.
Metal clothes hangers clang in the fickle wind
like ancient bells punished for failing to warn
the town about a coming apocalypse.
In the shed, a half rotten . . . Continue Reading
Thank you to everyone who participated in Appalachia Bare’s Places and Spaces poetry contest. We received such phenomenal poetry, which made our decisions so difficult. Contests are exciting all around, yet a little nerve-racking for the writer, what with all the waiting and wondering. Judging is difficult because our region abounds with creativity. Appalachia Bare set out to judge each poem on . . . Continue Reading
. . . for those of us who live here and love this land, it is more than precious. It holds our spirits, our hearts, our bones, our histories. It breathes with nature and wonder. And it often beckons us. I have experienced the beckoning myself: a deep feeling that . . . Continue Reading
He was more nervous than before and kept looking around constantly. I tried to walk by him, but he grabbed my arm. He said, ‘It’s coming for me. It’s coming for me and there’s nowhere to go. It stalks me . . . Continue Reading
Still uncertain whether I can be seen, I follow them up the hill, staying as far back as I’m able and still see their lights. I am eager to part with my peculiar company. How my feet ache. How my heart strains. I do not know what awaits me at the Hinterland, but I am unsafe where I am . . .Continue Reading
He’d been hiding in the woods, and every now and then he’d get brave and run up behind someone at night to ask for help, but they’d hear . . . Continue Reading
Then one night George had been awakened by singing. He strained to look at the pallets on the cold cave floor, but the sick soldiers slept on, unaware of the music. It didn’t come from any of them. Though his body ached, George rose from his bed to move toward . . . Continue Reading