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My Oldest Brother

Kept us from harm, seven
children raised on a farm,

Watched us everyday, while
Mom and Dad were away;

saw that we did every
chore but so much more.

He taught us to smoke
rabbit tobacco and thought
it was a joke when we choked.

We were daring, sharing turns
swinging from a cliff, hanging
onto a grapevine for a dip in the creek.

Mixing flour, sugar and milk.
He called it pink pie.
It was good, that's no lie.

He always did his best to take
care of me and all the rest.

Now we are grown and on
our own. He's quiet a man
and still head of the clan.

Gail Livesay writes:

I attend weekly classes led by Pulitzer Prize nominated poet Sidney Saylor Farr and am a participant in The Kentucky Women's Playwright group led by Trish Ayers. I have had poetry published in POETRY AS A PRAYER WOMEN SPEAK, APPALACHIAN WOMEN'S JOURNAL, APPALACHIAN CONNECTION, A play to be published in an anthology by SHAN AYERS, Poems to be read by NEW MUMMERS PRODUCTION GROUP, informative letters to the editor about bipolar disorder and stem cell research, published in THE BEREA CITIZEN, RICMOND REGISTER, MOUNT VERNON SIGNAL and LEXINGTON-HERALD. I am currently revising my autobiography, which explores the impact of growing up with bipolar disorder, which had not been diagnosed and/or recognized.

Read more of Gail's stories and poems at USADEEPSOUTH!
Our New Frein / Worn and Gray (two poems)
The Good Ol' Days
A Southern Tale
Laundry Day


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