Tim Carmichael

Joined March 2025

252 stories

Bio

I’m a firm believer life is messy, beautiful, and too short, which is why I write poems full of heart and humor. I am an Appalachian poet and cookbook author. My book Beautiful and Brutal Things is on Amazon, Link 👇

https://a.co/d/537XqhW

Achievements (18)

Stories (252)

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For Our Lost Country
I remember mornings when sunlight spilled over dirt roads, when possibility filled every conversation, and voices carried trust, not suspicion.
By Tim Carmichaela day ago in Poets
An Apology for Bringing the Squirrel into Church
Dear Members of First Self-Righteous Church, I write this with a humbled heart, a sore back, and a memory that replays in vivid, chaotic detail. I must apologize for bringing that squirrel into your church last Sunday. Every shriek, hallelujah, and blush-worthy confession began with my decision. I take full responsibility.
By Tim Carmichael2 days ago in Humor
Buried in the Holler
Time falters and the rhythm of the holler unravels, and every legend must be redrawn. What was once a reliable peak has surrendered to the valley. A mother’s passing is a slow erosion of the foundation that held our world in place, leaving us to study the silence, a new law governing the atmosphere. The heavy stillness is not a void but a presence, lingering in the spaces mother once filled.
By Tim Carmichael3 days ago in Poets
Songs of the Blue Birds
Blue birds rise through morning veils, their wings cut the sky like fire made visible, their voices pour forth the language of stars,
By Tim Carmichael5 days ago in Poets
Lit Beyond Chains
They told us God made man from dust and we said yes, and look what dust became when it defied the shape of the mold. Dust became the one thing they couldn't sweep away.
By Tim Carmichael7 days ago in Pride
Foraging Appalachia’s Wild Edibles. Top Story - March 2026.
It's that time of year again and Appalachia offers a remarkable abundance for anyone willing to learn its seasonal gifts and practice careful gathering. Across ridges, holler's, stream-side's, and meadows, edible plants, berries, roots, and fungi appear through every part of year. Knowledge is key and teaches not only what can be eaten, but also how to gather with respect so that these resources remain available far into future.
By Tim Carmichael7 days ago in Feast
Forgiveness at the Grave
I stood before your grave, fresh earth still raw where they laid you down, years of anger heavy in my chest, memories sharp as broken glass!
By Tim Carmichael10 days ago in Poets
Moonlight Man Within
Through the velvet stretch of night, the moon hangs, a luminous orb, casting its glow upon dreams, inviting us to seek the man within.
By Tim Carmichael11 days ago in Poets
The Last Bite
Dad brought home extra meat and said it was cheap. It tasted fine, just sweeter than usual. A week later, missing posters went up. Last night, I found a fingernail in my steak. I heard footsteps upstairs, and he whispered, “Did you finish everything on your plate?”
By Tim Carmichael12 days ago in Writers
Climbing Kuwohi Alone
All morning I climbed through oaks, losing count of myself. Somewhere below, a voice I used to trust had said this would help.
By Tim Carmichael12 days ago in Poets
Fading Grace
How strange to wake and find the world still here, the morning patient as it always was, with mist dissolving gently from the hills
By Tim Carmichael13 days ago in Poets
Come, Sit With Me Awhile
Come, sit with me awhile. Tell me who you are. Tell me what broke you open and what grew there afterward. ✨ I have time.
By Tim Carmichael13 days ago in Poets