Introducing David Hall
From and currently resides: North Carolina, USA
David Hall was born in a small town called Mount Airy (A.K.A Mayberry) nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains which are part of the large Appalachian Mountain chain.
His early life involved a lot of traveling with his missionary parents, which involved stints of living in Mexico and Bolivia. His poetry reflects a love for nature and life mixed with a sense of the rustic Americana spirit and sprinkled with a lingering sense of the spiritual guidance infused by his southern religious upbringing.
David has always been able to live in the moment enjoying it to the fullest while being able to be separated within himself seeking something more.
Poetry is one of those outlets that gives him that something more. The diversity of genres and endless array of topics allow him to dive into poetry with reckless abandon or with fine-tuned precision; whichever is needed. Like a prism there are many sides of David, from the emotional connections when dealing with death, to the touch of the spring breeze on your neck hairs, David’s poetry can put you there.
David’s page: www.ctupublishinggroup.com/d.b.-hall.html
The Bent Tree
When I was a boy running wild through the Appalachian backwoods with my buddies, we came across an odd shaped tree. It was a bent tree; one of those old Indian bent trees that we’d heard about in the old stories. We let our imagination go wild. We climbed it, jumped off it, rode it like the Lone Ranger on Silver, and pretended we were Blackbeard sailing on Queen Anne’s Revenge; marauding up and down the coast of the Carolinas. Indiana Jones had nothing on us in our harrowing escapades. We were happy kids enjoying our carefree summer under our favorite hangout. Within our little group, we made a solemn pact to tell no one about our secret spot.
One day my parents told me the rather disturbing news that our family would be moving as missionaries to another country. A country in South America called Bolivia. I was pretty tore up about it, unsure about that foreign place. We made the best of the rest of the summer but as the days come closer to the day my family had to go, a difference began to fall upon us. At our young ages, goodbye was something we had never experienced and so it meant forever. My buddies and I were pretty distraught during that last week and in an important pact of friendship, we decided to put a few treasured items in a box and bury it under our tree and then open it when I came back from the trip. It was not much; some prized rookie baseball cards, a few favorite Hot Wheels, we also each put in one rusted knife. Mine was a rusted but awesome Barlow that had this nick in the blade out toward the end. I had rescued it from the mud on the side of the road. I had sharpened it as best I could but that was a bad nick and I just couldn’t get it out. All in all not very fancy stuff, but very special to us because somehow we knew our friendship was special and this tree was too, though we didn’t know why.
Years later, finally back home in familiar country with stomachs full of grandma’s good ol home cookin, only two of us made that journey back through those woods. So many things had changed, trees were bigger and paths were now overgrown. Some friendships were not as strong as they once were but our tree was still there, the sapling sprouts were tall trees kissing the sky. We no longer fit under our tree near as easy as we did before. Corny as it may seem to some but to us it was very exciting. We grinned like fools and started digging after a bit of arguing over where to start at and several shoulder punches. We dug at one spot and then another and then dug some more, but finally had to admit our treasure box was gone. We accepted the fact that greed had struck one of our old buddies. We weren’t really mad. Kinda hated it, but the comradery and experience were what it was about. We ended up sitting back against the tree laughing, two cousins who were truly brothers for life, and so life would prove we were, though short that would turn out to be.
Years later, I found myself on a Kubota tractor working the devil out of a front end loader near that old hangout behind grandmas. A little after midday, I was wiping a ton of sweat off my face, reminiscing quite a bit and becoming quite teary-eyed. As I traveled through the woods they became a bit sparser and I was seriously lamenting the fact that the harshness of life dictated that I had to travel through them alone. Still yet, I could not resist traveling back to that ol place. Our beautiful tree was gone, chopped down before their time, just like my cousin. I stood back from the edge of the woods and watched a ray of sun touch the young sprouts jumping on the trampoline. Smiling, I knew I was not watching them alone.
Of the Past and Now
Nestled in these gorgeous Carolina foothills
Far away from the bright lights of big city thrills
A panoramic valley blessed with scenic rivers
Fertile lands like their people proven to be givers
These people mostly humble, in worn out overalls
Plowing their fields with patched up Farmalls
Longtime friends visiting on the front porch
Good will is a multi-generational torch
Kids helping grandparents string beans for hours
Grown ripe to perfection from spring showers
Now all those ol dirt roads have been paved
My Mayberry is embracing the new waves
For now comes upon us a different time
Our fields of harvest yield grapes for wine
A tobacco barn is now a rustic antique store
Tourists can now take a scenic winery tour
Websites with linked maps showing the way
Committees with plans for bright new days
Interlinked walking paths and biking trails
Spoken Word Society and Storytelling tails
We still love our country roots and sounds
They are firmly planted deep in these grounds
Autumn Leaves Festivals and Mayberry Days
Are here to remind us about the good ol ways
Looking to the future and making plans
For time marches on, it stops for no man
Shades of the Same Skin is an anthology of culture. The world is in need of a vigorous seasoning and it is why the poets in this book are willing to share their ethnicity. Each one will give some insight into their culture, music, clothing, food, traditions, and even share a few recipes. Some will engage in unique stories and folklore. Others will take us back to their childhood days and compare it to the experience of children today. A few will even welcome us into their homes to share items from their heritage.
This is also a book of unity. Its purpose is to show that without diversity, the world would be a boring place. Each poet in this anthology has a unique style because of where they came from, their experiences, and who they are. Their words are printed on these pages to inspire why we belong. We are all vital ingredients for the recipe to keep the world stirring.
Shades of the Same Skin is Available at the following Retailers:
Create Space: www.createspace.com/6171447
Creative Talents Unleashed: www.ctupublishinggroup.com/anthologies.html
100% of all proceeds from this book are being donated to the “Starving Artist Fund” to assist writers in becoming published authors. Purchasing this book can help a writer become a published author!