Friday, July 24, 2009

My Angel

I fell into you a million times.
Cradled in your arms and surrounded with your light,
Your wings caressed my skin,
And with your kiss,
I Took flight,
With you,
my angel from the night,
Who gave me hope to love again,
I learned,
To fly.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Tony Sexton's Scraps

Congratulations, Tony Sexton, for the publication of your new book, SCRAPS. Tony is the leader of The Community of Mercer County Writers and has lead several writing workshops in the community.
Many writers have said they never knew when an idea or inspiration might hit them and I am no different. Often I find myself considering an idea with no means of jotting it down. Usually I have a pen but, more often than not, I don't have a notebook handy. The only solution, in these cases, is to use what ever I can find; a napkin, box top, grocery receipt or an envelope. The title of this first collection, Scraps, comes from this dilemma. I began writing in the fifth grade when is teacher, Miss Castle, gave me writing challenge using the word “compulsion”. Since then I has spent over 20 years writing, leading writing workshops, which are designed for all ages and experiences and trying to complete her assignment. I am a member of The Community of Mercer County Writers and president elect of The Kentucky State Poetry. You can find my writing in The Journal of Kentucky Studies, Jar and several magazines including Good Old Days. I live in Mercer County with my wonderful wife, Cheryl and their dog, Mercy.

SCRAPS is available from Amazon and Wasteland Press

Happy Birthday ...

... I just want to take a moment to wish my youngest daughter a


Christine Nicole was born on this date, 17 years ago at 9:10 in the morning. Even though she was 5 weeks early and only weighed 5 lbs. 10 oz., she has been the love of our life.

Happy Birthday, Sweetheart, we love you bunches!

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Sylvia Davis

Just a reminder - Sylvia Davis will be reading from her new book, APPALACHIAN ANGELS, on Saturday, July 25th at 2pm at the Kentucky Fudge Company on Main Street. We hope everyone comes out to support this talented Kentucky author.


The driveway was filled with tables covered with trampolines from the weekend yard sale. I had expected Good Will to pick them up while I was at the doctor’s office so seeing them aggravated me because now I had to park at the curb in front of my house where some kid on a bicycle might bump it. I shut off the engine and glanced toward the front porch. Some raggedy looking black man was sitting on the step leaning on a dirty backpack and smoking a cigarette. When he saw me looking, he smiled a wide, upper front teeth-missing smile, lifted the hand holding the cigarette and waved. I didn’t wave back. I only got that much more aggravated and wondered who the vagabond looking man was and why he was acting so familiar with me. I got out of the car and slammed the door.

My day had been long and tiring and I was in no mood to deal with a begging, homeless man, no matter how much I sympathized with his plight. Then he spoke.

“Andy, that’s you isn’t it?”

I looked hard at him. The voice sounded familiar but it was from somewhere in my obscure past.

He went on speaking, “ I thought that was you the other day mowing the grass but I wasn’t sure.”

Then it hit me. I had worked with him several years ago at the water plant. “John?” I questioned.

“Yeah, you didn’t recognize me did you?”

I wasn’t happy to see him. Not that I disliked him but more because he brought back bitter memories of a phase in my life I had tried hard to forget. “Not until I heard your voice. You’ve lost some weight?”

“Yeah, and you grew a beard.”

“Still a rebel, even in my old age.” I was walking towards him and he stood up, stuck out his hand and I shook it. “It’s been awhile.”

“Twenty years almost.” He released his grip and I let go of his hand, which felt oily and warm. “I heard you moved to Georgia.”

I knew eventually he would get around to wanting to talk about the old days I had tried so hard to forget. “I was gone for a few years. Spent a couple on the beach but my health brought me back here.”

“Oh, Man, the beach, sounds like a pretty good life to me, you know.”

"It was.” We sat down on the top step of the porch. “So what’s up with you these days?” I asked.

“Just livin’, Man, you know, just livin’. Eight hours a day, one day to the next. It ain’t life, but it’s livin’. But it’s all good. What about you? Just moved in here, huh?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“I work over there.” He put up his thumb like he was hitching a ride. The thumb pointed to a shopping plaza across the street from my back yard. “Flippin’ burgers, Monday through Friday, sometimes half a day on Saturday.”

“So you live around here?”

“On over the hill, pasted the fairgrounds in Hanks Apartments. Heck of a name, ain’t it, Hank’s?” He laughed. “I just cut through everybody’s yard to make the trip shorter.”

“Well, yeah, that would save a lot of time.”

“Yeah, but, you know, a trashy lookin’ black man, carrying a backpack ain’t always welcome in some folks backyard. But, so far no trouble except for a few dogs wantin’ a taste of me.”

I laughed, “Things don’t change much do they?”

“Only in your head.” He grinned that toothless smile again. To look at him you’d never know he was a college graduate who took a wrong turn early in life.

“Well, other than having a tendency to forget things, my head is in the same place it always was.”

“I like to think mine is on a little straighter than it used to be back then.” I was surprised he did not mention the problems he had at the plant.

“I’m glad to hear that, John.’

“Listen, if I know you, I figure you’d rather not talk about our years at the water plant?”

“Not one of my favorite subjects for sure. I am pretty much over that so you’re right, it is a topic I’d rather not dwell on.”

I figured so. But, you know, Man, I had to stop by for a few minutes.”

“It’s fine, John. We worked together, we were pretty good friends… worked together for a long time. We saw a lot of crap go down.”

“Well, that’s why I stopped by.”


“Yeah, they were so wrong lettin’ you go the way they did. They fired me for a good reason, my own fault, you know. But, you, Man, it was just wrong.”

“We’re both probably better off that they did.”

“I think so, but, like I said, I had to stop by and tell you… well, I’ve known a lot of people in my life, but you’re the most honest one I ever met.”
I felt my face redden.

“You taught me a lot and I don’t mean just about that damn plant. You taught me stuff I didn’t even realize for years after I left.”

I didn’t know what to say. I fumbled for words, “Well, I, well, I don’t know about that, we were just trying to survive. But, I do appreciate you saying it.”

He stood up, swung on the backpack and held out his hand again. “Well, I just wanted to tell you that, Man. I’ve waited a lot of years for the chance.” He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a pack of Marlboro Menthols and lit one up. “Thanks.”
I stood up, shook his hand and said, “You’re welcome, but I figure we taught each other a lot.”

“Gotta get goin’, gonna wash the Big Mac grease off of me and prop up my feet. What a life, huh?” He laughed again.

“Take care, John. Stop by again sometime if you want to.”

I just might do that.” He took a drag on the cigarette, blew out a cloud, turned and walked down my sidewalk. He never looked back.

I didn’t expect to see him again unless he was just walking down the street or though my backyard. I unlocked my front door and went inside.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Monthly Meeting

Just a reminder to all members of The Community of Mercer County Writers - our next scheduled montly meeting will be Friday, July 24th at 6:30 at the Kentucky Ag Heritage Center on Louisville Road.

We hope to see everyone there.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Public Reading

The Community of Mercer County Writers - Nomadic Ink - held a public reading on Sunday, July 12th. The following are a few photos of our members reading original works created during the Advanced Writers' Workshop held by Tony Sexton.

This is Tony Sexton, the group leader of Nomadic Ink and the instructor for the latest writing workshop.

Len Goodpaster

Shirley Cochran-Walls

Barnyard Queen from Hillbilly Zen

Charles Semones

Staci E. Hackney

And I can't believe I didn't get a photo of my own daughter, Christine Rightmyer, reading, so here is a photo from her graduation reading from the Governor's School of the Arts.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Monday's Untitled:

Have you ever loved so much,
that it hurt to be,
loved someone like you shouldn't have,
and lost the will to see,
but baby you've taken all of me,
now all i've got is you inside,
you've got me feeling things Ive never felt,
love i don't know what to do.
these things i thought weren't possible,
you feel so amazing beneath my fingertips
i never thought i could fall all over,
Ive fallen so much harder than Ive fallen before,
baby you've taken me away,
and i cant ever see myself coming back.
I loved watching you in my arms,
you smell so amazing when you sleep,
the texture of your skin beneath my fingertips,
your heart beneath my hand,
you don't know what you've done to me with just that.
i can still hear the sound of your breathing,
feel your rapid heartbeat on my skin,
you're just so surreal,
i cant believe you,
you're just amazing,
and i just cant let you go.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Escaping the Memories

Tennis sweatbands that smell like your wrists,
tender memories that taste like your kiss,
echoes of the songs you love to sing,
These are a few of my favorite things.
Dreams of your skin hot against mine,
My fingers aching for the hands they're longing to find,
cool air conditioning on fresh beads of sweat,
the look in your eyes as we watched the sun set,
teasing and playing,
i longed for your kiss,
waves and boogie boards you're sure to miss,
long talks through tears in the sand,
the moments when you took my hand,
these are the things stuck in my head.
The sound of your voice calling my name,
the way my skin will never be the same,
it still tingles with the last of your touch,
the bruises are fading from the falls and the scrapes,
My favorite memories are the ones i cant escape.

Thursday, July 2, 2009


(Photograph by Lynda Lehmann)


Reflections of my past flow freely through my mind
Happy childhood, miserable teenhood, skittish adulthood
All jumbled together in the melting pot of memories
Never really showing my past by outward means, but simmering slowly in my thoughts and dreams

Rippled memories like the ripple of waves
Skipping across the decades of time
Not unlike a skimming stone as it lights on spontaneous musings and perceptions
With no control over where the cognition begins and the flights of fancy end

Why is it older brains will always reflect the past
While newer brains are only interested in jetting to the future
Don't they know that time is fleeting and you should not wish it away
'Cause in the blink of an eye, the future is gone and all we're left with is the past