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Wakenva, VA. near Mine 44


Va. West Va.@ LiveJournal

Appalachia, United States

Light & Shadow
Wakenva, VA. near Mine 44

A startle
of cats by
my cold
No moon
to light
the cherry



brought a
late Summered
rain> I’ll
wait [again]
for your poem/
August darkens
just beyond
my window.
Carefully above
the blood
withered petals of
forgotten roses,
a spider still

T. Byron K.
Blue Ridge Mountains,

rock paper scissors
Wakenva, VA. near Mine 44
there's a creature in my heart
and it's name is Love

there's a creature in my mind
and it's name is fear

i invite Love
into my mind
and it's

like paper
conquers rock
conquers scissors

conquers paper

only nothing
conquers Love

Love Lives Forever
Love Conquers All

-Amy K.
November 2007
Blue Ridge Mountains, Virginia

Wakenva, VA. near Mine 44

(a poem for mary,
with Love)

with grace
and faith
and patience,
am i
we're no longer

then one day
through Love
and humility
we see
that "those others"
are really "our selves"

so we embrace
and are embraced

we judge
and are judged

we attack
and are attacked

we forgive
and are forgiven

we Love
and are Loved

and all parts
of our selves
are eventually


-Amy K.
January 2008
Blue Ridge Mountains, Virginia

Life's Puzzle
Wakenva, VA. near Mine 44
Life's Puzzle

And all life's simple puzzle parts
Before the King were brought in carts,
Who, sitting there upon his throne
Assembled them quite on his own.

Each part locked, a pattern spread;
A form took shape, or so 'tis said.
But 'fore the picture was completed,
The king sat back, all but defeated.

Though all were there when he'd begun,
One part was gone, the crucial one.
The Jester, from the game expelled,
Now in his palm, the part was held.

Angrily, the King's voice hissed,
"Find for me the part I've missed!"
And all his people scurried out,
Looked up and down, and 'round about.

The Jester said to search no more.
"Here is the part you're looking for.
"This part of life that means so much.
"The part that even King's can't touch."

The Jester to the King did teach,
Some things must stay beyond his reach.
Missing from his grasp this day,
What is the part? What would you say?

Virginia 1998
Born: Long Branch West Virginia

Red Is The Violet
Wakenva, VA. near Mine 44
Red is the violet
Blue is the rose
To you a birthday happy
(I'm up-mixed, you suppose?)
If from me a tip you'll take
Since "Fair is all in love and war".
And "Tis fair play to turn about".
You're 45, not 54.
Wish best,
Rose Maude

-Maude Rose Kelly
Salem, Virginia 1966
Born 1912-Pike Kentucky

Wakenva, VA. near Mine 44
We dedicate this space in rhyme
To all the critics of our time,
Especially that rare brand of fool
Who fights the progress of our school.
A crank may imitate a saint
But truth and reason prove he "aint".
The space alloted here is small,
(Why mention such low_brows at all?)
We do them honor far too great
When we engage them in debate.
By wisdom's well such mortals sleep-
Nothing to draw with, and the well is deep.
Those fake reformers, -blind to truth
Would blight the pleasures of our youth,
Make every harmless sport and game
Appear to bare the mark of shame.
Ignorance, we know, can not be bliss
While carrying such a curse as this.
The club, the court, the grid, the gym
And pools where men and maidens swim
They brand as sinful, low and mean,-
Likewise all pictures on the screen.
Where men such notions entertain
There can be little mind or brain.

-W.C. Harris
(For Prof. Bobbit, Pax, WV High School)

New River Canyon
Wakenva, VA. near Mine 44
Vast fortunes spent to advertise,
In every land beneath the skies,
Has caused the multitude to roam
Far from rich beauties closer home.

The rich play-boys who risk their scalps,
With every trip across the Alps,
Would move with awe-inspiring tread
On heights above New River's bed.

The Colorado deep may flow,
Through mighty canyons far below;
But those who know will place their bet
On grander canyons in Fayette.

To those of you who cross the pond
To view the valley Aggalon,
Will see far more when you stand,
And view America's Switzerland.

What offers more enchanted gaze
Than looking through the purple haze?
Symmetric beauty mile on mile-
Vast mountain ranges file on file.

O roads of asphalt, smooth as glass
The wheels of traffic swiftly pass;
While through the valley far below
Is swiftly speeding C & O.

Lift now your eyes to azure blue
Through which the fiery chariot flew,
Then lower them to deep abyss
Where demons howl and serpents hiss.

Two questions now you entertain
While mind of mortal man is sane.
And answer to them none can tell,
How high is Heaven-how deep is Hell.

Words are too tame and speech too mean
To paint the grandeur of the scene.
But if you want the high and low,
New River Canyon is one grand show

-Walter C. Harris
Pax West Virginia

Wakenva, VA. near Mine 44
Well, wife, I've seen the modern church, they worshiped there today;
Unlike the time when Christ the Lord--washed all my sins away;
I tell you, wife, it made me sad--to think that Truth and Grace,
Had touched no heart to humble pride--or to make one solemn face.

The people did not seem to note my presence as I sat,
Behind a peck of flowers sewed upon a lady's hat.
I could not see the preacher, as I then could only stare.
Before me at a "Crew Cut" of faded soft brown hair.

The preacher's voice came to my ear, in accents mild and meek;
"We'll now be favored with a song by Miss Samantha Cheek".
I could not catch a word she said, she only sang for show,
"Mi fa, Mi re, Mi la, Mi sol, Mi fa, Sol, mi, Re do."

The people did not sing at all--the Choir had wondrous nerve,
And sang as fast as "Casey's Train", a flying 'round a curve.
Nor did the people bow and pray--they sat still in their pride,
I wondered if they ever heard that Christ was crucified.

It was a flowery sermon, wife, a masterpiece well read,
Unsuited to the sons of toil, who earn their daily bread.
His language had the ease and grace of the ocean's ebb and flow;
But side stepped sin, lest he should step, on some old deacon's toe.

The old Church Creed is solid, wife, her doctrines all are sound,
We've followed them, and oft have placed our feet on higher ground.
But if our Sainted Wesley should awaken from his trance,
He'd find church members old and young, attend the social dance.

-Walter C. Harris

Methodist Episcopal Church, South
Wakenva, VA. near Mine 44
My dear Friend:-
A certain preacher had a good appointment and many friends,
but the spirit of the Prodigal took possession of him and one day he said to
his Elder, "Give me the transfer that falleth to me and when that kindly-dis-
posed man had answered his prayer according to his folly straightway he took
his journey into the Southland where a thousand favorite sons had covered
themselves with glory choosing "liberty or death" and in a section made fa-
mous by Bishop Hoss and the great Munsey. Here he was not long in finding
better conditions and plenty of bread; but there arose a mighty famine in
his heart and a hungering in his soul to return to his native land and grasp
again the hand of warm hearted friends of other days: and no man offered him
And when he came to himself he realized that good appointments and good sala
ries do not satisfy the earnest longings for home and friends, and that the
praise of the multitude is as " Sounding brass and tinkling cymbal" because it
falls not upon the ears of dear friends and near relatives; and he said to
himself "Man shall not live by bread alone" , and I'd rather eat the husks in
any pig sty in the homeland than to have a square meal in Holston."
Behold then the plight of the Prodigal who wanted to return but could not,
for the fatted calf had already been killed and the veal loaf served to
others who went not South but West and returned empty handed.
And thus the prayer of the Prodigal continues. "Thou hast given me the South-
land, give me also springs of water".
Greetings to the brother who staid at home and to whom the father said: "ALL
I have is thine".
MORAL.-Never transfer.

-Walter C. Harris
October 28th, 1922
Mountain City, Tenn.

West Virginia Moon
Wakenva, VA. near Mine 44
From the world's broadcasting station
As we hear the crooners croon,
Every state in the great nation
Claims our West Virginia moon.
Long in the silence have we waited
As each state has filed a claim,
But for us she was created.
And shes' ours just the same.
Listen as we try to tell
How a mountain man one morning soon
Left his home to hunt his bell cow,
And at night was on the moon.
Up the mountain side he followed,
Though the path was rough and steep,
And in vain for her he hollered
For she made one mighty leap.
'Tis no myth or fairy story,
And our boys are told each night,
How this cow won fame and glory
When she made this non-stop flight.
But this West Virginia farmer
Made his last round-up that day,
But he reached the moon in safety
Every night he looks this way.
From over the moon the old folks say-
The old cow came from the sky,
She left her milk in the Milky Way,
And forever was bone dry.

-Walter C. Harris
Pax West Virginia