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Storyteller

The Gray Revolution

Gray clouds float across the sky
Gray faces with silver gray smiles
Gray roses in the garden
Gray ice cream melting, dripping on the gray grass
Gray lovers kiss then turn to ash
Gray soldiers fright for a gray cause
Gray leaders makes gray promises
Gray people in gray marriages
Depending on a gray culture for structure
Gray religions with varying colours of gray for doctrine
Gray spirituality based on gray self image
Gray emotions, or is it emotionless
Living a gray existence
Male or female, black or white
Ok I am going back to sleep
At least the tropical colours still exist there.

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Storyteller

A Country Girl’s Voice

That Voice
An immediate memory
Like last night’s dream
Utterances are words whispered
Gray vapour across the Appalachian sky
A simple melody
Like the creek behind the cabin
An indulgence of senses
Like a cardinal on blue grass
The notes from a clarinet
Floating in the Easterly wind
Bring the gospel of compassion
From the mountains to the heart
That voice

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POEMS Storyteller

Left Behind

Tonight I had a dream I was standing in a field and the ground beneath me was moving, like an escalator but without the steps. I stood and watched grass then mud, then streets move under my feet, yet I stood still. It seems like the earth was in a hurry to get somewhere and wherever it was going I was being left behind.

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Pics with verse Storyteller

Good Marning Neighbourooooooo

Yes man, wake up and look out me window. The ocean is rolling in on the sand , white foam disappear as it rolls back out to sea. A mild warm wind shook the cocoanut tree cause dried cocoanuts to fall hitting the ground with a dull thud. I stepped onto the gold green grass, it is soft and already warm from the early morning sun. Walked down to the water and stood there for a second watching the school of colourful fish swim by.

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Storyteller

Its Sunday Marning me Neighbours

Its Sunday Marning, time to get up and take a walk in the flower garden in the back yard. Watch the bees fly around, buzzing, sucking up nectar from the core of he flower. Ahhh yes, all these different scents, its like there is a carnival of aroma in your nose. Sit on the dew covered grass, feel the cold crystal water soak through the thin material of your pants. Smell the smoke from the farmer next door as he burn the shrubbery from his early morning weeding of his patch of corn. Listen to the rooster crow in the valley just behind the house. Oh yes, nothing like a tropical Sunday marning. Its time to wake up and live.

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Storyteller

Good Marning me Friends

Ahhhh a crisp Kentucky marning, when yuh can feel de cool early marning dew on yuh bare feet as yuh walk in de blue grass. On de highway in de distance, de roar of coal trucks. Barking dogs echo across de hills. Children and dem standing at de bus stop, white skies wid a touch of blue grey. At de point where the land disappear and blends with the sky, this island boi swear it looks like de ocean. But I shook me head, be meself back to reality. Me not at de ocean, this is Eastern Kentucky and all dat land is just as beautiful as de endless ocean. Rise and shine, face de day, All create is beautify,.

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POEMS Storyteller

Somewhere in Eastern Kentucky Artwork By Bonnie Moore Delong

Somewhere in Eastern Kentucky Artwork By Bonnie Moore Delong

Somewhere in Eastern Kentucky
There are shadows against the gray blue sky
Silhouettes, like men, reaching for the stars
Clouds like vanilla cotton candy
Branches reach up to the eatable sky
Tree trunks, majestic, mother earth’s flag pole
Dark underbrush, hiding place for creature small
Somewhere in the holler, where green grass sparkles blue
And Cardinals fly low, red against the blue grass
Yellow Golden Rods cover the rolling hills
Bobcats prance across the creeks
And deer run freely on the hill next to the train tracks
And back in the valley, where the trees reach out to the sky
A peaceful rythem echos whrn the wind rushes through the leaves.

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Stories Storyteller

Drunk off plums

Drunk off plums

Ahhh yes, lazy Sunday afternoon, sitting on a plum tree in my uncles yard. A mild breeze sweeping through the yard, the winds whistling through the leaves, the tall grass laying down with the surg. Oh the sweet taste of these Plums, I eat and eat and eat until I felt like was drunk. Until the wind blew no more, and the sun is not blasting down, until confused roosters started crowing, until the crickets started chirping, until the first firefly blinked. Oh to be a boy again, sitting on that tree, watching the day changes and sadly it was time to climb down from that tree and leave the sweet, sweet memories of those plums.

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Pics with verse Storyteller

Different Kind of Beautiful

Different Kind of Beautiful

The once bright blue skies is now covered with gray clouds, the dried out grass have lost its golden glow, the bushes are a much darker green, the ocean has a strange army green hue. You sit on the grass and thought, what a dull day. Then the breeze coming in from the ocean hits you, and the gray light created sparkles on the oceans surface, and a school of fish swam by glittering despite the lack of sun, and the green coloured ocean is interrupted in intervals of white rolling waves, and a bird flies by, pure white against the gray skies. That’s when you realize the day will not be dull, just different colours.

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Pics with verse Storyteller

The Doorway

The Doorway

Here I stand, at the threshold of a new year. I will close my eyes, step on through and expect the expected. Life goes on.