The Road Ends In Silence

I dreamt about a world of steel and concrete.

A world where the pace was hectic and one dare not stumble for fear of the crowd.

As I walked along in time with the daily march into chaos there was a gate unguarded.

I took the chance and walked through the threshold as the outside world vanished behind me.

No more hustle and bustle.

Steel and Glass gave way to open sky. Leaving only the wind.

Pavement crumbles away into earth.

Echoes fade into oblivion as I walked at different pace.

This road ends in silence.

Thanking God for My Mom

Proverbs 31:26 – 31:27

26 She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue [is] the law of kindness.

27 She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.

Today being Mother’s Day I wanted to take the opportunity to thank Jesus for my godly mother. It’s one thing to teach the bible through memorization but to be a living example in front of the children is better. Mom’s life of sacrifice for her boys made us the men that we are today.

I love you Mom ❤

Crafts of Ansted

Hello Friends and travelers! I just wanted to let my readers know about Crafts of Ansted. It is located in the old Blue Smoke Salsa building in Ansted West Virginia. (Directions found on the Facebook page in the link) I have prints for sale at at this wonderful little shop . Some which have been published here on my blog and others which have not yet been featured.

However, you already know about me. I wanted to let you know about all the other wonderful things that you can find in the gift shop.

Artists from the local area have produced an awesome array of art in different media. There are quilts, crocheted items, books, tie-dyed tee shirts, paintings and more! Since a picture is worth a thousand words and that’s my main media here’s a short essay about what can be purchased here. 😍 When you’re in the area visiting the New River Gorge Bridge, Hawks Nest State Park or a fishing trip to Boley Lake at Babcock State Park it’s certainly worth stopping by our little co-op for some hand made souvenirs 😁

Gateways

There is something meditative about watching the river roll gently by. With the sky reflected on the water’s surface I began to understand why ancient cultures looked at bodies of water as gateways to the “other world”. The river itself is a contradiction. It’s always in motion but always in the same place more or less. Beneath the water’s surface truly is another world. Fish, crustaceans and turtles roam around exploring an alien landscape that’s just beyond our vision. What sunken treasures roll by unseen on the bottom? What secrets lie beneath that second sky below?

Echoes on a foggy morning

I stood in the mists and listened, and I heard the echoes.

The echoes spoke to me and here is what they those echoes said.

Once there was a house and the house was a home.

Once there was friendswho would gather.

Once there was laughing.

Once there was a song.

Once there was dancing.

Once there was the smell of dinner cooking over an open flame.

Once there were games played on the lawn.

Once there was a warm bed and quietly spoken conversation by candlelight.

Once there was a sadness and a warm embrace to lessen the scars on a wounded soul.

Once there was work to be done and rest to be enjoyed.

Once there was love and love grew into life. And life was good.

The echoes fade away but love lives on.

Poetry by Lloyd A Dempsey II

The Feature image for this post is the Old Mason-Drennan house. Sadly, it’s a historic site that is quickly succumbing to the effects of time.

As I look at site I think about all the different stories that would have played out at the old resort. In the early Twentieth Century this was a destination for people who would travel from far away. I wonder how many family lines got started at the dances and social gatherings that were held there? That question was the inspiration for my poem. As the old inn fades away do the memories live on like an echo in time?

As the weather in the Northern hemisphere warms up people in Appalachia generally gather around a camp fire and tell ghost stories. But such stories don’t always have to be scary. After all, it’s just a story… isn’t it?