Stephen Hollen's Page

I am weary
Weary of the grind
Weary of the blare
Of unwanted television news
Of the cry of talking heads
Creating economic disaster
With their intrusive blather
Crying in the spilt beer
Of lost financial gain
Weary of television, radio, internet.

I want to run to the hills
Hope for poor signals
Hope for undelivered papers
I want to walk in a woods
Filled with promise
As jack in the pulpits
Sneak through the debris
As May apples lift up.
I want to be scolded by squirrels
Angry that I have walked… Continue

Mountains destroyed
Hills laid low
Torn open to its heart.
Heart of the mountain
Ancient root of life
Precious black coal
Ripped from the depths
Broken and crushed
Moved, trucked and taken
From the hills of home
To power plants, factories
And homes distant
From our mountains.
The rubble, discard and ruins
Thrown down
Tumbled to the valley
Crushing and filling the hollers
With no thought
Of the beauty below
Or of ancestral homes.
Much less the sacred graves
Of those who ventured
As wayfarers
I… Continue

It is a strawberry eatin' day.
A day to wander down to a patch
An' just squat on your haunches
Maybe, if the berries
Are real good an' abundant
We'll just sit right down
In the midst of them vines.
Reachin' out all sorts of ways
Just a grabbin' handfuls
Stuffin' them in our mouths.
Hungry for the sweetness
That runs down our chin
In our passion for summer
An' Strawberries.

Dear Cousins,
First of all, Happy Father's Dady to all of you who are Daddy to someone. It is a wonderful day. You are an unsung hero, a knight who has rescued your children over and over again from the boogerman under the bed, a dentist who had bravely grabbed a loose tooth that just won't give way to little fingers, a tooth fairy who waits till a little one is asleep and slips coins under a pillow in exchange for the tooth you pulled early in the day.

You are the teary-eyed slob who finds a l… Continue

When my little brother and I were youngin's, Daddy had a cedar box he brought home from the Smokies as a souvenir. He always called it his treasure box and we imagined it was filled with family trophies and riches handed down through the generations. We would beg to see into it and occasionally Daddy would pull out a sampling of treasures. They were amazing.

About 15 years ago, just before Christmas, Daddy sat on the floor down in Tennessee where he and Mama had retired, got out his treasure ch… Continue