coweta prose.png
 
 
Bonnie Annis

Bonnie Annis

Bonnie Annis has always loved rural living and enjoys photographing scenes and venues in and around Coweta County. Both native Atlantans, she and her husband Phil have lived in Newnan for seven years and are proud to call it home. Bonnie is a breast cancer survivor, natural light photographer and freelance writer.

coral block.jpg

Share Your Prose

Are you a closet poet? Or a creator of short fiction?

Share your best work with us and we may publish it in an upcoming issue of Newnan-Coweta Magazine.

Submit your work along with your name, address, email address and daytime phone number to magazine@newnan.com or mail or drop by our office at Newnan-Coweta Magazine, 16 Jefferson St., Newnan 30263.

 
Georgia BackroadsBy Bonnie AnnisMy soul resides under crumbling red clay, tangled muscadine vines, and the comforting arms of gnarled live oak trees.It feels like home to me. Dusty dirt roads, weathered fence posts, and spiky barbed wire, Fat grazing cows and lush green grass,Clapboard houses with peeling white paint, numbered mailboxes all in a row,Beat up cars, and sturdy porch swings.No place I’d rather be. Simple life, simpler times.Everything, slow and easy. Georgia backroads, with secrets deep and wide. Rusty tin silos, round baled hay, shoulder deep corn fields, and buzzards flying highAzure skies and linen white clouds – sights treasured and familiar. Dip me in sun-kissed watermelon bursting with sweetness. Serenade me with soft buzzing bees, banjo twanging frogs, and a cool gentle breeze. Wrap me in nightingale song. Georgia, sweet Georgia, my forever home.NCM

Georgia Backroads

By Bonnie Annis

My soul resides under crumbling red clay, tangled muscadine vines, and the comforting arms of gnarled live oak trees.

It feels like home to me. 

Dusty dirt roads, weathered fence posts, and spiky barbed wire, 

Fat grazing cows and lush green grass,

Clapboard houses with peeling white paint, numbered mailboxes all in a row,

Beat up cars, and sturdy porch swings.

No place I’d rather be. 

Simple life, simpler times.

Everything, slow and easy. 

Georgia backroads, with secrets deep and wide. 

Rusty tin silos, round baled hay, shoulder deep corn fields, and buzzards flying high

Azure skies and linen white clouds – sights treasured and familiar. 

Dip me in sun-kissed watermelon bursting with sweetness. 

Serenade me with soft buzzing bees, banjo twanging frogs, and a cool gentle breeze. 

Wrap me in nightingale song. 

Georgia, sweet Georgia, my forever home.

NCM