Appalachia I Am From

I Am From Dusty Mountain Roads…

Today’s guest poem was written by Pinnacle Creek.

Pinnacle Creek Old Time Baptizing


Where I’m From written by Pinnacle Creek

I am from dusty mountain roads, Eight O’Clock coffee and wild strawberry preserves on Cat Eye biscuits.

I am from “a house perched on a mountain,” night sounds, ghost stories told long into the night and sworn to be true.

I am from Mountain Laurel and Sarvis, the fragrance of Honeysuckle filling the air.

I come from honest and hard-working, mountain folk–the Lesters, Lanes, Steeles, and Grampa Green.

I am from a world where coal was once king, where respect for God comes first, then country; coalminers and military are noble professions.

From “if you can’t say anything good, then don’t say anything,” and I am from Bible totin’ believers with tent filled revivals with old time preachin’.

I am “country roads take me home,” a good raisin’ on beans and potatoes.

From where “shine” was made, Brother Norman’s preaching rang out into the quiet valley, and folks were baptized in the beautiful Pinnacle Creek.

I am from memories of trunks filled with handmade quilts, children learning to yodel as the sounds echoed ‘cross the mountains.


I hope you enjoyed Pinnacle Creek’s poem as much as I did! Many of the lines resonated with me-I especially liked the one: I am from “a house perched on a mountain,” night sounds, ghost stories told long into the night and sworn to be true.


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  • Reply
    Rev. RB
    August 8, 2013 at 8:54 pm

    A wonderful poem that stirred up many memories for me.
    I remember having to dust furniture and such three times a day because of a particular mother, windows left open trying to catch a breeze and that dusty old road that went by the front of the house. AMEN!!!
    God bless.

  • Reply
    August 6, 2013 at 6:33 am

    Ed- Change it to I am if you want too-that’s the thing about poetry it’s whatever you want it to be! I think this poem IS about the mundane-its about the everyday comings and goings of our family-the things that might not mean nothing to someone else but take us back to childhood in an instant. Don’t give up-you’ll get it and it’ll be great when you do : )
    Blind Pig The Acorn
    Celebrating and Preserving the
    Culture of Appalachia

  • Reply
    Ed Ammons
    August 5, 2013 at 10:24 pm

    I have been working on my own poem from your template but the flowery language from previous commenters has kinda dampened my spirits. Compared to theirs, my “I am from” seems mundane. I struggle to meet the average, the mean, or the median. If you could lower the standard to “I am” instead of “I am from,” I might fare better. “I am from” insinuates that I have gone further and/or above were I started. My life story struggles to reach the pinnacle achieved by my parents.

  • Reply
    August 5, 2013 at 4:39 pm

    Enjoyed the poem. Takes me back to a simple way of life of family and home cooking.

  • Reply
    Susie Swanson
    August 5, 2013 at 2:45 pm

    Oh what a beautiful poem. Thanks for the post Tipper. My new book will be out soon. You wanted me to let you know..

  • Reply
    Eva Nell Mull Wike, Ph.D.
    August 5, 2013 at 12:41 pm

    Tipper: I loved the Pinnacle Creek verses. I am very sad that we will MISS THE GIRLS THIS COMING FRIDAY EVENING AT THE COURTHOUSE. But we have done too many miles these past few weekends!
    MAYBE in September or October when (IF?) we have a book signing at the Courthouse the girls could sing a few tunes during our signing of “Fiddler of the Mountains” I know that would be pleasant for those folks attending our signing!

  • Reply
    August 5, 2013 at 11:40 am

    I enjoyed this poem by Pinnacle
    Creek. It brings out a lot of the
    traditions of folks who make up

  • Reply
    Mrs. K
    August 5, 2013 at 10:11 am


  • Reply
    Bill Burnett
    August 5, 2013 at 10:04 am

    Pinnacle Creek sounds as if it could be around Needmore, NC except for the Coal. We used wood cut with a cross-cut but the rest is applicable. One thing I remember vividly was the smell of Mash on humid summer mornings and areas where we kids weren’t allowed to play because there were Copperheads in the area. Later I discovered where Stills had been set up and realized the “Copperheads” were sitting on top of a “Copper-pot.

  • Reply
    August 5, 2013 at 9:24 am

    The picture was a reminder of religious freedom and traditions of some. I liked the story the poem told.

  • Reply
    Miss Cindy
    August 5, 2013 at 9:01 am

    I’ve never heard the expression Cat Eye Biscuits. I’ve heard of Cat Head Biscuits as meaning big biscuits.
    I love the poem and the picture at the top.

  • Reply
    steve in Tn
    August 5, 2013 at 8:28 am

    Great start to a great day. thanks.

  • Reply
    Janet Smart
    August 5, 2013 at 7:24 am

    I enjoyed your poem, Pinnacle Creek.

  • Reply
    Susan Cook
    August 5, 2013 at 7:12 am

    I am from Michigan…..but adore hearing about Appalachian life and times. For whatever reason it comforts me.

  • Reply
    Sheryl Paul
    August 5, 2013 at 7:09 am

    What a beautiful story.

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