I don’t know what I can say
If you tell me I have sad eyes
It’s because I am sad
If you say I look tired
It’s because I am
If you comment I’m short tempered
I would cock my eyebrow
Because that’s not news

So this afternoon
I have lain my t-shirt quilt 
Underneath my stunted redbud
I have sat upon it
And tried to find some tranquility 

It’s not working

But I don’t have anything else
I really want to do
I am thankful
My allergy pills seem to be working
And there has not been an invasion 
Of Boxelder bugs
For a few years now
I admire my Columbine
Pink and yellow

It’s the little things, you see

Do I deserve to write of a battered heart
Or restless nights
What are appropriate topics
You reckon
If I could write of trite happiness
Would my intentions shine through?

So yes
Lush clover
Inches from my face
But still no four leaf-ers 
Yet
I wonder if you found
What you were looking for

“You normally have to be bashed about a bit by life to see the point of daffodils, sunsets and uneventful nice days.” 
Alain de Botton


Love from Appalachia,
~Amy

Tuesday
On Thursday
Because Tuesday
I was a jumble
And the last thing I wanted
Was to sit in front of a keyboard and bleed
Because that is what I do
If we're being honest about it

But Tuesday
I had a horse to see
And I wanted softer edges
So I blurred the line
With Colorado Kool Aid
I'm no coward
But sometimes I need a break
From facing life straight on

I still didn't sleep
Not in the bed
Or on the couch
Or in the floor
Or on the porch
Even though I tried them all

Did you know
There are birds that sing all night?
I do now
I've heard them
Because I saw 1:15
And 3:30
And seventeen other times I was awake
I was awake
But I didn't look
To see if they had a bad eye
Or a wounded heart

So I didn't mean to give you hope
That I had given up
Or that I would stop 
Bleeding
I'm sorry if you think
I could quit that easy

Thank you to the friends who 
Know me well enough
To know if I don't have something to say 
I have lots to say
Who aren't scared
Of my caustic tongue
Who scoop and cup my spirit in their hands
As you would a hummingbird
Gently, gingerly, delicately
And ask, "How's your heart today?"
So I send them a poem 
And they say "I hate you had it in you to write it"
I do too, I do too
But I did
And I’m still here

Love from Appalachia,
~Amy

I am so tired—
And I am so thirsty—
I don’t think of you,
I don’t think of you

I get up
I get ready
I don’t think of you,
I don’t think of you

I drive to work
I check my phone
I don’t think of you,
I don’t think of you

I eat, I read, I file
I talk, I giggle, I smile
I don’t think of you, 
I don’t think of you

I come home
I pet my dog
I don’t think of you,
I don’t think of you

I sit on my porch
I paint my toes
I don’t think of you,
I don’t think of you

I sigh, I drink, I cry
I don’t think of you,
I don’t think of you

And at the end of the night
When I have made it another day,
I lay down
And I dream of you, 
I dream of you

Love from Appalachia,
~Amy

I cannot write of redbuds and ladybugs
Not now
But I should strive to do better
For it is spring 
And you need to read something much lighter
Than my trials
I once had a high school English teacher
Who told us
“You must write of what you know”
And although I know of horses
I know of heartbreak better now

I know of trout fishing
I know of SEC Football
Well, I used to
I find it hard to care anymore
I know of standing in the surf
And feeling a crab run across my toes
And a jellyfish sweep past my calves
And tiny fish peck inquisitively 

I know of mosquitoes 
And still nights 
When I lay on a quilt in my yard
Watching the stars wink and sparkle
And the moon on its journey
And I want to be up there
On my own feathered wings
Or on silver ones

I know of many restaurants 
I know River Street and all its bars
I used to know all the names of Lisa’s goats
But my head can’t contain what I still know
It is focused on the other
And I have to get back 
Turn again, stalwart
Because that’s how I repair myself

Nobody is unhappy forever 
No one is always happy
It’s ups and downs
And rounds and rounds
And I what I want is immaterial 
Faster
Faster still
If you could just
Sit
You get one trip
Make it count

Love from Appalachia, 
~Amy

When my dog was dying
And I was conflicted 
About easing his way
I was told not to rush
That he would let me know
There would be signs
I would know when

And some time later
After multiple frantic trips
To the vet
For treatment 
After agonizing breaths
After deterioration of spirit
After one sleepless night

I decided I wouldn’t wait on The Sign
I wouldn’t wait for The Look
I had a Brain
And I could determine 
Together with my eyes
That he was suffering 
And he wasn’t getting better

When there are more bad days than good
It is time
Even though he ate a biscuit 
Just that morning 
Even though he trotted to the car 
In anticipation of a road trip
Even though
He didn’t want to get out at the vet

There was dignity in his passing
Because 
It was time
And it hurt till it didn’t
But I knew it was the right thing
To do by him
For him

And now
When I look back at pictures 
And I see his pleading eyes
I just hope
I didn’t wait too long
As I wasted time
Looking for a sign
When the truth was right in front of me
The whole time

Are you awake?
I want to tell you something 
I couldn’t write about it
Back when 
It was too painful
And writing is reliving
But I remember 
A wise friend said
You don’t love who he is
You love who you thought he was
Who he used to be
And she was right
I needed that clarity
I needed that insight
There were lots of things I needed
But nothing from him
I bought gutter guards 
After scaling the roof once
Just to say I’d done it
I hated how long it took 
For me to realize
My strength
My character
Which never failed me
I knew myself
I knew my happiness
Wasn’t solely dependent on him
I knew my happiness
Came from me
And what I enjoyed
And nothing was ever the same after
That moment
It got better
I healed
And I came back to life
Sparklier than before
I like to think
But with wisdom to sprinkle
With grace
Everywhere

Love from Appalachia,

~Amy

Edited to add from my favorite, Sturgill Simpson.

If you need a friend
Don’t look to a stranger
You know in the end, I’ll always be there
But when you’re in doubt
And when you’re in danger
Take a look all around, and I’ll be there

I’m sorry, but I’m just thinking of the right words to say
I know they don’t sound the way I planned them to be
But if you wait around a while, I’ll make you fall for me
I promise, I promise you I will

When your day is through
And so is your temper
You know what to do
I’m gonna always be there
Sometimes if I shout
It’s not what’s intended
These words just come out
With no gripe to bear

I’m sorry, but I’m just thinking of the right words to say
I know they don’t sound the way I planned them to be
But if you wait around a while, I’ll make you fall for me
I promise, I promise you I will

I’m sorry, but I’m just thinking of the right words to say
I know they don’t sound the way I planned them to be
And if I had to walk the world, I’d make you fall for me
I promise you, I promise you I will

I gotta tell you
Need to tell you
Gotta tell you
I’ve gotta tell you

I’m sorry, but I’m just thinking of the right words to say
I know they don’t sound the way I planned them to be
But if you wait around a while, I’ll make you fall for me
I promise, I promise you

I’m sorry, but I’m just thinking of the right words to say
I know they don’t sound the way I planned them to be
And if I had to walk the world, I’d make you fall for me
I promise you, I promise you I will
I will
I will

“Enough,” declared my brain
“Agreed,” said my heart
“It’s Bo-time,” said my stomach

At the crux
You will sink
Or you will swim

I have returned to myself
Vim and vigor
For now 

I crawled into your brain
I warned you it would happen
But now I work to unravel the knots

“What a mess you have made
For someone so clearheaded”
I tut as I separate and straighten

If everyone were honest with themselves
They could be honest with each other
But it is a rare thing indeed

Maybe what you want 
Is what everyone else wants too
But you’re too afraid to ask

Or maybe not
Maybe gloom despair and agony
Misery on all

Happiness is a state of mind
Pigs in slop awaiting slaughter
Think they’re happy too

Maybe they are
Because it’s the only life they know
That is no life 

Oh Sarah, here we go again
I can’t get past the pain of what I want to say to you
I’m too old now to learn how to let you in
So I’ll run away just like I always do
She said if there’s something I should know then tell me now
Before I go and give my heart away
So I can get on with my life
You can go on with your strife
Wish you’d speak the words those eyes are trying to say

Sometimes this life feels like a big old dream
I’m floating around on a cloud inside
When my cloud starts coming apart at the seams
Oh Sarah, that’s when I slide

There’s going to be times that I gotta go away
But don’t worry baby I’ll come home
Out on the road is where I’m going to find my way
But I’ll always find the time when I’m alone
So forgive me if sometimes I seem a little crazy
But G’damn, sometimes crazy is how I feel
And my brain is starting to swirl
Down the drain of this old world
And there’s only one thing girl I know is real

It’s the love that I feel in your arms
It’s the glow you wear around you like a charm
It’s the tender in your eyes
That keeps me safe and warm at night
From this life

Oh oh
Sometimes this life feels like a big old dream
I’m floating around on a cloud inside
When my cloud starts coming apart at the seams
Oh Sarah, that’s when I slide

~Sturgill Simpson ❤️

Love from Appalachia,

~Amy

I am so thirsty
And I am mad at the rain

I am also mad at myself for a variety of reasons
I can tell you
Never ask me to dress you
Because today I wore navy pants
With a black top
And black shoes
And the heck of it is
I had the navy pants on yesterday
With a navy and coral top
But the pants looked black
So I changed 
But today
When we had a break in the rain
I walked outside 
And saw that my black pants
Were navy
And this would have never happened 
If it hadn’t been raining
And that is one reason 
I am mad at the rain
And mad at myself 

I am weak
Powerless 
Evidently my body has decided 
I can survive on three hours of sleep
Or maybe five 
But not eight
My gut has also declined 
Any rhythm 
My teeth would like their say
But they are clenched together
And my heart can’t do anything but pound
So with all that going
My lungs think they should puff rapidly
To match the chaos

So I have come home
On this miserable day
And lit a candle
And rubbed velvet ears
And wrote a poem
To try to curb my rage
Without a liquid aid
And I’m doing quite a bit better
Even if I can’t reconcile 
Who I am now
The wind howls
And so do I 
At least the coyotes are curled up 
And silent

If you came here 
Expecting me to cheer you up
As always
Perhaps you should ask your jester
What you can do for them sometime 
It’s not always butterflies
I cannot force a grin
I know my eyes are sad
And my tongue has been lethal as of late

What if it gets easier
Instead of harder

Love from Appalachia,

~Amy

When your heart is broken
There is no safe place
Music brings the memories
Books always have a way of speaking 
What’s dwelling in your mind
Well meaning friends
Encourage conversation and 
Try to offer explanations 
But often pull from their own experiences 
That may not be very beneficial
And you can't focus anyway
You can’t see a way through it 
So nothing helps
It is best to sit in silence 
And try to wrap your head around the here and now
And not what ifs and maybes
Best to stay strong
Hold it together for one more day
Or hour
Or minute
Or whatever you can muster

Three rabbits chasing each other
Round and round
For hours now
Why aren't they tired
The squirrels appear and shake their tails in admonishment
Like they weren't acting like that just yesterday
They don't mind the rain
So why should I?
Never 
Not once
In my wadded up existence
Have I allowed myself
The luxury 
Of a breakdown
And five drinks later
I still hold my head up
Bartenders wise beyond their years
Speak of grace
Although I am shamed

Must sleep now 
Although there is much left unsaid
Still here
Can’t quit
It’s not my nature
Willing to face another day 
One more day
One more night
Probably in a long line
But I’m still here

Pushin’ Time 
-Miranda Lambert

Are we fools for rushing in?
'Cause I already dread the end
Lonely ain't no place to start
I guess that's just where we are
Oh, how I remember well
The sunset on September 12th
I disappeared to get a drink
You still kept your eyes on me


Sometimes love acts out of spite
And good things happen over night
Can't take it slow 'cause you and I are pushin' time


I didn't plan on falling fast
I didn't know I could be kissed like that
Now I'm trading miles for minutes
This bed's too big without you in it

Love from Appalachia,

~Amy

100 days of writing every day
Has certainly proved a challenge
Through fatigue and boredom
The day getting away from me
Or can’t get a moment’s peace
Total brain block 
Once, too filled with alcohol 
I have written
I have written of birds
But not swans
I have written of ships and shores and shoes
I have written of books
Of course I have written about my dog
I have journaled 
And made up stories
And repeated tales about fishin’
And I have written a spot of poetry this month
Because it is April
And April is for poets
And fools

I have written of love in almost every post
Whether it is about the aforementioned 
Or East Tennessee 
Or food or farmers or frogs
So if that is what you scrounge for
You should find it in nearly every post
I cannot
Will not
Stop writing
Even if it’s painful
Even if it’s revealing
Even though it’s no good
I can’t quit
Even if I wanted to
Once my mind is made up
I never could
Except guitar lessons
And maybe that’s why
Because I was a disappointment 
And I never wanted to be that again

Skin crawling
Cold
Short breaths 
Teeth chattering
Anxiety I suppose
Since I’m not on drugs
And I usually like rainy days
Desiring quiet in my head
But impossible with the sniffer
Who has stayed on the phone all but twenty minutes today
And I could not hear myself think
He coughed thirty nine times
In nineteen minutes
A reprieve tomorrow at last
If only I could sleep 
I could collect my racing thoughts
And methodically place them in rows
And package them neatly with tissue paper
Leaving out the most cherished ones
To enjoy regularly 
I have to stop naming favorites 
Because it leads to trauma

I don’t know 
But it did
And here we are
With a saddled bronc
Now to ride
No brakes
No clutch
No quit 
Because that’s how you get through 
Too bad it’s much longer than 8 seconds
Feels like 8 years
I need to lose myself in this book
Like some people lose themselves in a TV series
Or in another human

April Showers
Bring May flowers
…but what do Mayflowers bring?
Pilgrims! 
(Not sure if that’s a poem or just a joke, but it’s all I’ve got)

Love from Appalachia,
~Amy