_Land
Bear Sage
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- Aug 3, 2002
- Posts
- 1,461
It's the Poem-A-Week Challenge Discussion Thread
- Thread starter Angeline
- Start date
42BelowsBack
By CROM!
- Joined
- Jun 20, 2025
- Posts
- 313
A shout out to everyone contributing to the poem a week challenge. Applause to the super stars who haven’t missed a week. A massive thank you to everyone contributing as and when we can. I try to read everyone’s poems. At times I find myself waylaid by a outstanding individual effort. Caused to pause and contemplate it.
So if I don’t get around to reading your poem you now know why.
A special thank you to @Angeline for ensuring a safe fun space to share. And also for posing a challenge that develops the discipline to write with regular frequency. Angeline you probably didn’t think of it like that, but discipline is happening.
Love the variance in styles every one
it’s simply inspiring.
Yeah okay I hear ya “fuck Up 42 Who the Fuck are you??”
So if I don’t get around to reading your poem you now know why.
A special thank you to @Angeline for ensuring a safe fun space to share. And also for posing a challenge that develops the discipline to write with regular frequency. Angeline you probably didn’t think of it like that, but discipline is happening.
Love the variance in styles every one
it’s simply inspiring.Yeah okay I hear ya “fuck Up 42 Who the Fuck are you??”
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42BelowsBack
By CROM!
- Joined
- Jun 20, 2025
- Posts
- 313
Sometimes a poet will write a poem to intentionally move one’s tongue in your mouth: To create a visual, aural, audio loop.
Visual), imbibing the words on the page, aural), the way the sounds move your tongue, audio), said, listened loops back through your mind.
Poetical Psych 101. Yawn, I must have slept through the rest of that lecture
Visual), imbibing the words on the page, aural), the way the sounds move your tongue, audio), said, listened loops back through your mind.
Poetical Psych 101. Yawn, I must have slept through the rest of that lecture
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Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
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Thanks for pointing that out. It's natural for most of us (well me in my complacencySometimes a poet will write a poem to intentionally move one’s tongue in your mouth: To create a visual, aural, audio loop.
Visual), imbibing the words on the page, aural), the way the sounds move your tongue, audio), said, listened loops back through your mind.
Poetical Psych 101. Yawn, I must have slept through the rest of that lecture
) to think of poems as just a reading experience, even though some of us try to engage a reader's senses (hence the success of the 5 Senses challenge thread). But in fact poetry derives from song and speaking. It can engage us in many forms. Look at WSCGarland's Antique thread in the Hangout or Ash's (and others) audio submissions, Bn2f's illustrated poem, Wonderer's photographic accompaniments. And yes, sound and the way it engages us can be the focus of a poem (makes me think of Eric Baus again).Thanks to all of you who are exploring and sharing different ways to make poems reach their audience.
Wonderer67
Optimistic nihilist
- Joined
- Sep 25, 2020
- Posts
- 19,403
I always write as if I am saying the words.Thanks for pointing that out. It's natural for most of us (well me in my complacency
Thanks to all of you who are exploring and sharing different ways to make poems reach their audience.
Sometimes I actually do say the words and record them on my way to work, making a recording or doing voice to text.
https://voca.ro/17mmEhiJZGsb
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https://www.literotica.com/s/plz-grasp-my-hand : my erotic/ romantic Bollywood lyric/ poem ' Please Grasp my Hand" has been published in Audio with poetry
https://literotica.com/p/dear-lord-we-are-thy-faithful
My poem in Poem a Week ' Dear Lord we are Thy faithful ' hath been published in Poetry with audio section of Lit. This is a 1956 number a devotional Hymn sung in a prison by a Jailor and his 6 jailbirds who travel from hardened criminals to social workers/ reformers and is still very popular in India
My poem in Poem a Week ' Dear Lord we are Thy faithful ' hath been published in Poetry with audio section of Lit. This is a 1956 number a devotional Hymn sung in a prison by a Jailor and his 6 jailbirds who travel from hardened criminals to social workers/ reformers and is still very popular in India
Bn2f
Literotica Guru
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- Nov 11, 2020
- Posts
- 11,577
I don’t live in Pennsylvania but I have traveled through there on occasion on business. This past Tuesday morning being actually one of those occasions. Your mind wanders when traveling, at least mine does, and for my own sanity I stop trying to distinguish mountains from hills and cattle fields from fields of corn. I don’t know how many times I’ve been through the segment of tunnels that one encounters on the Pennsylvania turnpike between Pittsburgh and Philadelphia - too many to count. There’s nothing particularly special about them of note, they’re rather plain and in constant need of some form of repair and if you look them up (I did in order to write this) they’ve been around since the 40’s. But for reasons I cannot explain, I decided to look up and read the actual name of the tunnel I was about to go through and it was named the Blue Mountain Tunnel. And I thought, geez, that’s a rather plain name, but now I at least know what space on this earth I am occupying and looking down from. Did I look at any of the other tunnel names? No. Did I even have an interest in looking at the other names? No and it didn’t even cross my mind to do so as I continued on. I’m saying all this because, even though I have stated that my mind needs the boredom during travel to actually stay at some measure of peace and sharpness, the sometimes small joys of life still sneak their way in through the doldrums to bring a smile to one’s face.
The next morning, a Wednesday, after posting a poem of mine for the first time in far too long of a time, I decided I was going to repay the favor of members reading my pieces by again attempting to read submissions by others as well. And to my surprise, one of the very first ones I come to read is titled: Between Blue Mountain And Second Mountain.
I paused for a moment. It surely could not be the same Blue Mountain, no, not the same one even if it was accompanied with the equally plain and even more odd name of Second Mountain. Was there a Second Mountain Tunnel, too? I started to google it but stopped and read on thinking that I had to be mistaken. Well, all pessimism went out the window from the first stanza. It was THE Blue Mountain! The very same my eyes had looked down from!
I kept on and read of the memories this area brought back to Wonderer67. The discussion, just had a few posts above me, on the forms and means poetry can be relayed to touch a person, still fresh on my mind. Could I relate to tanks rumbling or the hard sweat of military training? No. But I could remember the feeling of love. The kissing of someone I was fond of in nature. The way it keens your senses to all of the world around you. I came to the realization that I could remember every instance that I kissed, teased, or had actual sex outside. That I could remember the little things I would never care to notice when in a bedroom. Time of day, sounds of water, and the light of the sun peeking through leaves to catch a glimpse of nakedness. Maybe, if not for this odd coincidence, I would have read Wonderer's piece and not given it a second thought and moved on to read another - my mind again in a cruising mode moving from one road, one other tunnel to go through until the next. But I was there and I am alive and here recalling rereading his piece again. The power of poetry! The power of words kicking you out of numbing comfort! I now know where Blue Mountain is and because of the happenstance of this poem, I can't go through Blue Mountain Tunnel without wondering also - where is that freckled redhead and will she be waiting somewhere on the other side of as I travel through?
Thank you, Wonderer.
Not only can a poem sometimes shock you back to reality, they sometimes can stick with you like an ear worm of a song.
They pop in your head at the strangest of times and you can't shake thinking of them over and again. Full disclosure: I have had a brief, really brief, discussion with the author of my ear worm of a poetry piece here. If asked, the author would probably raise a quizzical eyebrow to why exactly this particular poem has become the one that I can't stop thinking of. They would rightfully point to other works they view as much better or even more meaningful. To that I say, "SHUSH! How dare you, author! Be quiet! Who are YOU to question how one views your work once it is freed to exist and roam wild!?"
Well, luckily for you members, we may possibly get the actual author in a candid discussion on their piece instead of me giving you my blabber mouth theories on what exactly they would say. Butters? For your submitted poem death of a wheelbarrow...
C'mon down! WWYT?!(What Were You Thinking?!).
death of a wheelbarrow
As we stand here
over the pale grey bones
of the ancient barrow—
its lone, new wheel incongruent
out of place as a chrome hip replacement
amidst the remains of a weathered skeleton
discovered in the woods—
let us celebrate its days
rather than rue its loss:
it's served decades on the farm
steered and worn by many hands
its tray a uniform, dull ox-blood
grown thin and pitted
repairs eaten through
bolts no longer marrying it
to its frame.
Uncomplaining, always reliable
it withstood every element
ready to move logs or hay
feed sacks or autumn's leafy bounty
though as years wore on
users steadily adjusted
to its decreasing mobility.
It limped so bad this past year
but still took on the tasks
till its very last
when a sideswipe from the old truck
left it lying like a dead dog on a verge—
resuscitation not an option.
And yet—even in death—
a part of this trusty warrior lives on:
its shell placed downside up
over a hay-filled dip by the wall
and covered with a waterproof mat
providing, still, a service
for little critters in need of a warm bed
on a cold night.
*raises a beer*
So, before I dig in with the questions, lemme explain why this is an ear worm to me. When I was informed of a poetry challenge, my mind had immediately limited itself into thinking that the majority of submissions would be of personal issues or love. This, as I recall, was one of the firsts about just an object and a very simple one at that! It kinda released my mind to think of writing about most anything. The second reason I like this is because, I am really not that good on writing about just anything and especially inanimate objects. Yes, there's some bit of envy at play here for those who can and easily do.
Is this wheelbarrow real? Like, is it a metaphor or was it an actual one in your yard?
This poem chroniclesthe life of this tool but, for you, when is a piece done completely? How much editing do you do and when do you feel comfortable enough with a poem to release it?
Your poetry can be uplifting at times and subversive at times. How do you choose between the two when writing?
You describe a finality of no hope to the wheelbarrow after it was hit and then show how it still, in a way, is usefully surviving - a very well done set up for the uplifting end. Is it your hope overall that life ends well for us all from an individual standpoint to that of the country and world? And my last question, what kind of beer do you drink or would find appropriate in toasting for a life lived well? What beverage would dear butters enjoy having members toast to congratulate her after her time at Lit is done?
The next morning, a Wednesday, after posting a poem of mine for the first time in far too long of a time, I decided I was going to repay the favor of members reading my pieces by again attempting to read submissions by others as well. And to my surprise, one of the very first ones I come to read is titled: Between Blue Mountain And Second Mountain.
I paused for a moment. It surely could not be the same Blue Mountain, no, not the same one even if it was accompanied with the equally plain and even more odd name of Second Mountain. Was there a Second Mountain Tunnel, too? I started to google it but stopped and read on thinking that I had to be mistaken. Well, all pessimism went out the window from the first stanza. It was THE Blue Mountain! The very same my eyes had looked down from!
I kept on and read of the memories this area brought back to Wonderer67. The discussion, just had a few posts above me, on the forms and means poetry can be relayed to touch a person, still fresh on my mind. Could I relate to tanks rumbling or the hard sweat of military training? No. But I could remember the feeling of love. The kissing of someone I was fond of in nature. The way it keens your senses to all of the world around you. I came to the realization that I could remember every instance that I kissed, teased, or had actual sex outside. That I could remember the little things I would never care to notice when in a bedroom. Time of day, sounds of water, and the light of the sun peeking through leaves to catch a glimpse of nakedness. Maybe, if not for this odd coincidence, I would have read Wonderer's piece and not given it a second thought and moved on to read another - my mind again in a cruising mode moving from one road, one other tunnel to go through until the next. But I was there and I am alive and here recalling rereading his piece again. The power of poetry! The power of words kicking you out of numbing comfort! I now know where Blue Mountain is and because of the happenstance of this poem, I can't go through Blue Mountain Tunnel without wondering also - where is that freckled redhead and will she be waiting somewhere on the other side of as I travel through?
Thank you, Wonderer.
Not only can a poem sometimes shock you back to reality, they sometimes can stick with you like an ear worm of a song.
They pop in your head at the strangest of times and you can't shake thinking of them over and again. Full disclosure: I have had a brief, really brief, discussion with the author of my ear worm of a poetry piece here. If asked, the author would probably raise a quizzical eyebrow to why exactly this particular poem has become the one that I can't stop thinking of. They would rightfully point to other works they view as much better or even more meaningful. To that I say, "SHUSH! How dare you, author! Be quiet! Who are YOU to question how one views your work once it is freed to exist and roam wild!?"
Well, luckily for you members, we may possibly get the actual author in a candid discussion on their piece instead of me giving you my blabber mouth theories on what exactly they would say. Butters? For your submitted poem death of a wheelbarrow...
C'mon down! WWYT?!(What Were You Thinking?!).
death of a wheelbarrow
As we stand here
over the pale grey bones
of the ancient barrow—
its lone, new wheel incongruent
out of place as a chrome hip replacement
amidst the remains of a weathered skeleton
discovered in the woods—
let us celebrate its days
rather than rue its loss:
it's served decades on the farm
steered and worn by many hands
its tray a uniform, dull ox-blood
grown thin and pitted
repairs eaten through
bolts no longer marrying it
to its frame.
Uncomplaining, always reliable
it withstood every element
ready to move logs or hay
feed sacks or autumn's leafy bounty
though as years wore on
users steadily adjusted
to its decreasing mobility.
It limped so bad this past year
but still took on the tasks
till its very last
when a sideswipe from the old truck
left it lying like a dead dog on a verge—
resuscitation not an option.
And yet—even in death—
a part of this trusty warrior lives on:
its shell placed downside up
over a hay-filled dip by the wall
and covered with a waterproof mat
providing, still, a service
for little critters in need of a warm bed
on a cold night.
*raises a beer*
So, before I dig in with the questions, lemme explain why this is an ear worm to me. When I was informed of a poetry challenge, my mind had immediately limited itself into thinking that the majority of submissions would be of personal issues or love. This, as I recall, was one of the firsts about just an object and a very simple one at that! It kinda released my mind to think of writing about most anything. The second reason I like this is because, I am really not that good on writing about just anything and especially inanimate objects. Yes, there's some bit of envy at play here for those who can and easily do.
Is this wheelbarrow real? Like, is it a metaphor or was it an actual one in your yard?
This poem chroniclesthe life of this tool but, for you, when is a piece done completely? How much editing do you do and when do you feel comfortable enough with a poem to release it?
Your poetry can be uplifting at times and subversive at times. How do you choose between the two when writing?
You describe a finality of no hope to the wheelbarrow after it was hit and then show how it still, in a way, is usefully surviving - a very well done set up for the uplifting end. Is it your hope overall that life ends well for us all from an individual standpoint to that of the country and world? And my last question, what kind of beer do you drink or would find appropriate in toasting for a life lived well? What beverage would dear butters enjoy having members toast to congratulate her after her time at Lit is done?
SmilingLez
Word Arranger
- Joined
- Jul 8, 2025
- Posts
- 1,949
Finally my raw and relevant prose was posted for the 'Crime and Punishment' challenge. I wish some of these writing challenges included all genres, and not just "storytelling".
https://www.literotica.com/p/seventeen-2
https://www.literotica.com/p/seventeen-2
Wonderer67
Optimistic nihilist
- Joined
- Sep 25, 2020
- Posts
- 19,403
@Bn2f
Thx for your kind words. Blue mountain runs most of the length of PAs eastern shield of the Appalachians. It is beautiful and I will always have fond memories of it.
And many other towns and locations in PA. In Ft indiantown Gap, the next mountain over is called second mountain, but when you travel the PA turnpike westward the second mountain is called kittatiny or Tuscarora mountain.
I love the hill and valleys of PA!
Thx for your kind words. Blue mountain runs most of the length of PAs eastern shield of the Appalachians. It is beautiful and I will always have fond memories of it.
And many other towns and locations in PA. In Ft indiantown Gap, the next mountain over is called second mountain, but when you travel the PA turnpike westward the second mountain is called kittatiny or Tuscarora mountain.
I love the hill and valleys of PA!
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Apropos of Wonderer's " Goddam, I wish" latest offering....
https://ibb.co/SwBKJk4f
https://ibb.co/SwBKJk4f
SmilingLez
Word Arranger
- Joined
- Jul 8, 2025
- Posts
- 1,949
I pluck
nerves
A syllable.
A slow stroke.
I starve you.
I feed you.
Mine.
I map.
Shivers.
Quake.
Yield now.
My silence
claims you.
This ache?
It’s yours.
I just
named it.
nerves
A syllable.
A slow stroke.
I starve you.
I feed you.
Mine.
I map.
Shivers.
Quake.
Yield now.
My silence
claims you.
This ache?
It’s yours.
I just
named it.
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Wonderer67
Optimistic nihilist
- Joined
- Sep 25, 2020
- Posts
- 19,403
While we were driving across PA a few weeks ago, my wife was good enough to jot down some “good” lines of poetry as we were driving on tiny back roads.
I was feeling it - the weather was nice all week - and I felt “on” but somehow we lost the piece of paper.
I also made some audio notes.
But I am bummed.
I was feeling it - the weather was nice all week - and I felt “on” but somehow we lost the piece of paper.
I also made some audio notes.
But I am bummed.
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,660
I get it. I've lost poems because of computer malfunction and through my own stupidity, not saving something I wrote or not saving it where I could find it later. But y'know you'll write more poems. Maybe those audio notes you saved will lead to a better poem than the one you lost. Of course you'll never know so all you can do is keep moving forward and keep writing. I have complete faith that we'll continue to see wonderful writing from you my friend.While we were driving across PA a few weeks ago, my wife was good enough to jot down some “good” lines of poetry as we were driving on tiny back roads.
I was feeling it - the weather was nice all week - and I felt “on” but somehow we lost the piece of paper.
I also made some audio notes.
But I am bummed.
Wonderer67
Optimistic nihilist
- Joined
- Sep 25, 2020
- Posts
- 19,403
Update: Mrs wonderer opened up a book, and lo and behold, the bookmark was the list of poetry ideas!
They were written on the back of a receipt, so I was hoping we didn’t chuck it.
Glad to have it! Now I gotta do me some writing!
They were written on the back of a receipt, so I was hoping we didn’t chuck it.
Glad to have it! Now I gotta do me some writing!
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,660
_Land your Miracle Whip diatribe is great; really cracked me up. Yes I believe in live and let live, but I too despise Miracle Whip. It's sweet, yuck! 
I'm not a huge mayo fan either but it has its place in the pantheon of condiments. (I won't get into Hellmann's vs Duke's vs Kewpie; a whole other source of disagreement....and perhaps fodder for another poem. You're welcome. 
)
Eagleyez preferred Miracle Whip and believe me he could make his own damn tuna salad.
And thanks for reminding us that any subject can inspire a poem!
I'm not a huge mayo fan either but it has its place in the pantheon of condiments. (I won't get into Hellmann's vs Duke's vs Kewpie; a whole other source of disagreement....and perhaps fodder for another poem. You're welcome. ) Eagleyez preferred Miracle Whip and believe me he could make his own damn tuna salad.
And thanks for reminding us that any subject can inspire a poem!
_Land
Bear Sage
- Joined
- Aug 3, 2002
- Posts
- 1,461
_Land your Miracle Whip diatribe is great; really cracked me up. Yes I believe in live and let live, but I too despise Miracle Whip. It's sweet, yuck!
Eagleyez preferred Miracle Whip and believe me he could make his own damn tuna salad.
And thanks for reminding us that any subject can inspire a poem!
It is my greatest honor to crack you up.
Also to give you some moments of memories beauty.
This was fun to write, it came from the prompt what hill are you willing to die on.....
It was this or pineapple on pizza
42BelowsBack
By CROM!
- Joined
- Jun 20, 2025
- Posts
- 313
Are you serious!
Yes I am. I submit and get rejected repeatedly. Sometimes I get published.
Calling 4-6 fearless poets.
So. Well. Anyone interested in being in a mini Lit poetry workshop? This year / Next year. Recommend limit to 4-6 spaces. Ideally three to four Nerf balls welcome.
The rough idea. 4-6 week duration.
1) Everyone write a poem focusing on a particular aspect of the craft. ✍
(1.1) Write a poem: no ing word’s / adjectives / adverbs.
(1.2) Write a metaphor, simile free poem: that describes an inanimate object; that describes the narrator.
(1.3) Using an agreed to short story template, write a poem.
(1.4) Combine (1.1), (1.2), & (1.3) to write your poem for final feedback.
(1.5) Or write a poem that ignores all the aforementioned purposed exercises. You are your poet.
2) Give feedback on each others’ poems.
(2.1) Have fun ignoring feedback.
(2.2) Have fun rewriting poem with feedback in mind.
3) Post your pre feedback poems on Lit and after feedback poems (or not).
(3.1) OR: For the super stars, submit to a non Lit dedicated poetry publication / site forrejection.
(3.2) You could submit to the New Yorker. Nothing ventured…nothing lost.
4) Start your own chap book on sub-stack etc
5) Recommend a favorite poem, poet for everyone to read.
(5.1) Write feedback, a sentence, a paragraph, a novella on recommended poems / poets.
Learning to write throughrejection is the journey.
Anyway think about it.
Disclaimer: the New Yorker or sub-stack are mentioned for the purposes of examples only.
“
”
Yes I am. I submit and get rejected repeatedly. Sometimes I get published.
Calling 4-6 fearless poets.
So. Well. Anyone interested in being in a mini Lit poetry workshop? This year / Next year. Recommend limit to 4-6 spaces. Ideally three to four Nerf balls welcome.
The rough idea. 4-6 week duration.
1) Everyone write a poem focusing on a particular aspect of the craft. ✍
(1.1) Write a poem: no ing word’s / adjectives / adverbs.
(1.2) Write a metaphor, simile free poem: that describes an inanimate object; that describes the narrator.
(1.3) Using an agreed to short story template, write a poem.
(1.4) Combine (1.1), (1.2), & (1.3) to write your poem for final feedback.
(1.5) Or write a poem that ignores all the aforementioned purposed exercises. You are your poet.
2) Give feedback on each others’ poems.
(2.1) Have fun ignoring feedback.
(2.2) Have fun rewriting poem with feedback in mind.
3) Post your pre feedback poems on Lit and after feedback poems (or not).
(3.1) OR: For the super stars, submit to a non Lit dedicated poetry publication / site for
(3.2)
4) Start your own chap book on sub-stack etc
5) Recommend a favorite poem, poet for everyone to read.
(5.1) Write feedback, a sentence, a paragraph, a novella on recommended poems / poets.
Learning to write through
Anyway think about it.
Disclaimer: the New Yorker or sub-stack are mentioned for the purposes of examples only.
“
”
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Taking a Cue from 42 BelowsBack, Smiling Lez hath written a compakt 10 word Poem with 5 Nouns Streets, Time , Heart, 
, Sky.....4 Verbs Fades, Shifts, Pulse, Moves and 1 Adjective Soundless.
The Cue was ' No -ing Words, Adverbs , Adjectives' . Bravo Lez....over 2U 42 BelowsBack
, Sky.....4 Verbs Fades, Shifts, Pulse, Moves and 1 Adjective Soundless.The Cue was ' No -ing Words, Adverbs , Adjectives' . Bravo Lez....over 2U 42 BelowsBack
https://www.literotica.com/p/why-do-u-cry-while-embracing
My poem " why do you cry....." has been published in Poetry with Audio as linked above. This was a song written by a Bengali poet Kabir Suman. This song won a National Award in India for singer Rupankar Bagchi
My poem " why do you cry....." has been published in Poetry with Audio as linked above. This was a song written by a Bengali poet Kabir Suman. This song won a National Award in India
for singer Rupankar Bagchi
Jaws82
Best Boy
- Joined
- Oct 22, 2011
- Posts
- 8,703
This is really good
kreemi_pi
LA as fuck
- Joined
- Sep 7, 2025
- Posts
- 6,143
This is really good
thks_Land's " Walking the Backbone" is a true Labour of Love , a tribute to his nation by a patriot cum poet. It is both a History as well as a Geography lession... with dollops of emotions thrown in as bonus or windfall, to boot!!!
It speaks of a young Republic...it's first faltering steps...of Coal, Timber and Steel industry... i have never been to the USA
but have read 
and heard about the Appalachian mountain range...._Land 's travelogue or trekathon blog took me thru' a few centuries...you have described mountains, rivers, trees 
, forests,inhabitants.. fog, sky....natural phenomena...Bravo, Bro: a Grand Salute 
from far off India !!!!
, a tribute to his nation by a patriot cum poet. It is both a History as well as a Geography lession... with dollops of emotions thrown in as bonus or windfall, to boot!!!It speaks of a young Republic...it's first faltering steps...of Coal, Timber and Steel industry... i have never been to the USA
but have read and heard about the Appalachian mountain range...._Land 's travelogue or trekathon blog took me thru' a few centuries...you have described mountains, rivers, trees , forests,inhabitants.. fog, sky....natural phenomena...Bravo, Bro: a Grand Salute from far off India !!!!
_Land
Bear Sage
- Joined
- Aug 3, 2002
- Posts
- 1,461
_Land's " Walking the Backbone" is a true Labour of Love
It speaks of a young Republic...it's first faltering steps...of Coal, Timber and Steel industry... i have never been to the USA
Thank you, this was a grand adventure indeed.. I've never done the Appalachian Trail straight through but have visited it in all the states it traverses. I'm so glad you enjoyed it
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