is BRAMBLES. Here’s a flash
fiction poem.
Submitted to dVerse
July 27, 2020
********************
Granny lived on Blackberry Hill
She was the druggist of the holler*
She sold her herbal remedies
A bottle for a dollar
Mountain folk didn’t mind
They were used to mountain rambles
But what they minded most of all
Was getting through the brambles.
* "holler" is Appalachian for a mountain
hollow, a valley of sorts between mountains.
What a wonderful little 44 word story.
ReplyDeleteThis is beautifully worded, Bev!💝💝
ReplyDeleteYou need a machete to get through them in places, I would imagine. Nice slice of life story, Beverly.
ReplyDeleteWoods is woods
ReplyDeleteand brambles is brambles
never the twain shall part, eh?
I like this. :)
ReplyDeleteNice one Bev
ReplyDeleteMuch🍇love
I enjoyed the story poem. They were used to mountain rambles.
ReplyDeleteThis is such an enjoyable and engaging poem. I love it.
ReplyDeleteI love your mountain ramble of a tale about grandma the medicine woman who as we used to say, "Lived in the sticks!!"
ReplyDeleteHa.. You have the vernacular down. Sounds like my mother's family a generation before her!
ReplyDeleteI love this, Bev! An old-time story with brambles. I imagine Granny as a with witch-like and full of natural wisdom. I enjoyed the rhythm and rhyme.
ReplyDeleteMade me smile :)
ReplyDeleteI love this story and can picture all of the people who read it finding someway to relate
ReplyDeleteBut what they minded most of all
ReplyDeleteWas getting through the brambles
If they want it they would have to go through all the thorny bushes in the way. The rhyming is great Bev!
Hank
Well done. I enjoyed it.
ReplyDeleteA charming tale...set in a breathtaking scene.
ReplyDeleteI love how you detailed this poem, Beverly. Beautifully charming.
ReplyDelete