Author: poeaxtry_

  • If I Could Ban a Word- A Step Further

    If I Could Ban a Word- A Step Further


    Best For:

    Advocates for human rights, anti racist individuals, foreword thinkers, open-minds, and readers of human right essays.

    If you could permanently ban a word from general usage, which one would it be? Why?

    Cha. Cha. Changes.

    I’m willing to bet most people answer this with something petty or personal. I took it further.

    What if the most significant cultural shift we could make toward closing social divides was linguistic?

    Not censorship.

    Not speech policing.

    Something more radical.

    What if slurs had never existed at all?

    No bans. No fines. No trouble. No moral word patrol. Just never here.

    A world where language built to dehumanize could never be a thing.


    Slurs Are Not Just Insults

    Let’s clarify something immediately.

    This is not about fragility.

    It is not about being unable to handle criticism and mean words.

    This is not about outlawing profanity. Did you know I fucking love cuss words?

    It’s the damn truth!

    Call someone a bitch,

    an asshole,

    a dickhead, a cunt.

    Those are behavioral critiques.

    You can choose not to act like one.

    A slur is different.

    A slur targets identity, race, sexual orientation, gender identity, disability ethnicity, immigration status, addiction history, mental health.

    A slur does not attack what someone did.

    It attacks who someone is.

    This distinction matters.

    Profanity vents emotion.

    Slurs enforce hierarchy.

    While also compressing complex diverse human beings into stereotypes. They reduce full lives into caricatures. Their function is not expression, merely dominance.

    Profanity is a tool to vent emotion; slurs are a tool to enforce hierarchy. One is a reaction to the world, the other is an attempt to own it.


    When the Slurs Are Yours

    This is not theoretical for me.

    I was called a dyke for over half my life. I was openly dating women. So it wasn’t a lie, but they meant it to sting . They were wanting somehow to diminish me.

    I have been called a tranny hundreds of times. I am a transgender man. This slur is designed to frame identity as deception, as something absurd or fraudulent. It is meant to stab, deep, and painfully.

    Ironically, I used it myself on Instagram for over a year.

    Reclaimed it. Twisted it. Cremated its power. That_Tranny_Axton was once a thing. So cis bitches like you didn’t say it to me.

    I have been called a faggot by someone who decided I had to be gay.

    She was a nurse. I was her aide. We were mid conversation about my fiancé, Kelsey.

    She stopped me and asked, “Wait! Who is Kelsey? You aren’t gay?”

    “No,” I said. “Straight.”

    She insisted I must be bi. A few moments later, loudly announced to coworkers that I had to be “a flaming fucking faggot.”

    Her evidence?

    I drive a Civic. Her man has a truck.

    I am shorter and slimmer he’s tall and thick.

    I do not resemble her estranged husband. Not every straight man does and I pointed that out.

    Though these were different slurs and different moments, they shared the same architecture of reduction.

    One tried to shame desire.

    One tried to invalidate identity.

    One tried to police masculinity.

    Different words. Same architecture.

    Reduction.


    The Reclaiming Slurs- The Limits

    Nearly every marginalized community has members who attempt reclamation.

    Reshaping the hate and slurs into humor, solidarity, language, turning a weapon wisdom and, a badge of survival.

    But origin stories matter.

    Reclaimed slurs were still born in violence. Forged in the very systems that need linguistic tools to justify exclusion.

    Reclamation is a personal choice, we respect everyone’s right to choose what they like and don’t for themselves.

    Tip

    You cannot reclaim a slur that was never used against you.

    You never carried it.

    You do not get to wear it.

    Acknowledging reclamation does not erase harm.

    It shows resilience.

    You cannot reclaim a word that was never used to cage you.

    Resilience is knowing the difference between a badge of survival and a weapon of harm.


    Slurs as Social Division Tools

    Slurs are not random.

    They are socially efficient, and great to either divide or bring together from other groups.

    Instead of questioning concentrated wealth and political power, people end up fighting over identity politics.

    Minority versus minority.

    Neighbor versus neighbor.

    It is not trans versus cis.

    Not gay V straight.

    Not immigrant versus citizen.

    Not one race versus another.

    The structural divide is ordinary people versus concentrated power.

    Billionaires. Corporate consolidation. Political systems that benefit the elite.

    Dehumanizing language keeps conflict horizontal. It keeps anger misdirected. A fractured population is easier to manipulate.

    Slurs are cheap fuel for that fracture.


    The Language, Systems, and Power

    Erasing slurs would not dismantle patriarchy overnight. It would not eliminate racism or transphobia or ableism by magic.

    Language alone does not create injustice.

    Language does however reinvigorate or reignite it.

    If dehumanizing language becomes anymore normalized, policy follows. Social exclusion follows. Violence can follow.

    Slurs are rhetorical shortcuts to saying, you are less than me.

    Remove the shortcut, and the hierarchy has to work harder to justify itself.

    Dehumanizing language is a shortcut to power. When you remove the shortcut, the hierarchy is forced to show its true, shaky foundation.


    What we can do is strip slurs of visible impact.

    We cannot cremate vocabulary. Vocabulary is mine retroactively?

    Bullies thrive on reaction. When they don’t get it, they grow bored.

    Reclamation is one strategy. Indifference is another. Education is another.

    The key is refusing to internalize a word designed to shrink you.

    Cremate the power, even if you cannot cremate the word.

    H2: Why This Is About Equality for All

    This is not about protecting one group.

    It is about protecting the idea that identity is not a flaw.

    Equality means all.

    Not just y’all.

    Every time we reduce someone to a slur, we narrow the circle of who counts as fully human.

    And in a world already stratified by wealth and influence, narrowing that circle only strengthens the top.


    Miss placed hate

    It’s not hard to understand people’s unchanging & assigned character traits do nothing to harm you.

    If I could ban a category of words, it would be slurs.

    Not to police speech. Not to posture moral superiority. Not because language alone fixes injustice. But because I know what those words are built to do.

    They are not tools of truth. They are tools of harm.

    We deserve arguments without dehumanization. We deserve accountability without reduction. We deserve solidarity that cannot be shattered by a single word.

    If I had a time machine, I would erase slurs at their origin. Since I do not, I will keep challenging them where they stand.


    Internal Links

    Elon Musk– A essay that calls out the transphobic parent

    Donald Trump– An era of racism and essay

    Shia LaBeouf– An essay looking at the criminal to Christ pipeline

    2026 legislative outlook – trans US citizens


    External Links

    Poeaxtry’s Links. Poetfolio.

    Goodreads.


  • Oglebay Park Frozen Painted Falls &  Winter Adventure

    Oglebay Park Frozen Painted Falls & Winter Adventure


    Best for:

    Winter photography, accessible nature trips, quick day trips in West Virginia.



    Morning at Oglebay Park After Work

    Interstate 470 entering Saint Clairsville
    Blazing my way across Ohio.

    Picture this: I am just getting off a 12-hour overnight shift, barreling towards my hometown, Wheeling, West Virginia. I pulled into the small pull-off along the guardrail near the falls at Oglebay Park on February 11, 2026.

    The morning is a little chilly under normal circumstances but, honestly felt like a heatwave compared to the consistent below negative temperatures of the previous weeks. It was roughly 10:30 in the morning by the time I made it, and my friend from high school was already parked and waiting.

    Winter doesn’t mean stillness. It means finding layers of life hiding beneath the snow and ice.

    Frozen big Wheeling creek with new wooden stairs to creek bank at Oglebay Park
    Stairway to the creek bank

    Oglebay Trails

    The trails at Oglebay, some paved, others stairs or rocky slopes, hold a wild invitation that always reminds me of childhood. Sadly, the trail from the Schenk Lake area to the waterfall was destroyed in the devastating 2025 flash flood that wreaked havoc on many small West Virginia river valley towns.

    However, Oglebay Park still offers roughly 4.5 miles of paved walking trails and 8 miles of unpaved hiking trails.


    Blue orange and green multicolored squirt guns
    I think squirt guns in the winter might be better than in the summer even.

    What is there to do at Oglebay Park

    In the winter months, Oglebay Park transforms into a powder-covered playground. You can frequently catch winter sports in action like skiing and snowboarding. The Winter Festival of Lights turns the park into a six‑mile sparkling trail of displays. The frozen trails and landscapes create a quiet, magical world perfect for photography, hikes, walks, and taking in the crisp air.

    Beyond winter, Oglebay Park is a year‑round destination blending natural beauty with resort-scale amenities. The 1,650-acre park includes a golf course and driving range, gardens, museums, glass blowing demonstrations, paved paths for gentle walks, hiking trails, animal encounters at the Good Zoo, and much more. There’s something for every pace, interest, and season.


    Ogelbay Park: What’s New?

    There is a new stair set down to the falls which means safer access to the area. This is a great addition since most people who would have accessed the area from the now unusable trail would have to fight the hillside for any time in nature. Stairs offer a bit of nature access without having to fight the hillside to make up for the trail devastation.


    Our Plan for the Trip

    Ogelbay’s roadside waterfall complete with food coloring on ice
    Don’t go a painting waterfalls, or whatever TLC said.

    So, I stopped and bought squirt guns and non-toxic food coloring for the occasion. Nessa brought the bottled waters. We filled them up with water and non‑toxic food coloring. We proceeded to spray the slowly melting waterfall an arrangement of speckled colors.

    Had Vanessa gone sooner, and not waiting for me it probably would have turned out more vibrant. The experience was definitely one of my new core memories. This was top-tier in my book and something I’m definitely going to have to recreate in the coming winters.

    Some memories are made in the quiet, speckled colors of a frozen waterfall.


    The Oglebay Park Good Zoo and Beyond

    Oglebay’s Good Zoo is nationally accredited and home to more than 50 species from red pandas and otters to cheetahs and exotic birds. Providing a perfect family‑friendly day trip critter moments included.


    Schenk lake frozen surrounded by trees and snow
    Schenk lake

    Winter Water Safety Tips

    A quick safety memo: my friend didn’t listen when I said the ice was thin. If you can see the flow of water over ice, do not step on it. Never traverse icy water without proper cold-weather gear. She found out the hard way that winter edges are slippery, and she took an early exit. Both of our cars were within a stone’s throw of us or she wouldn’t have tried anyway, safety first even when being a little risky. Hypothermia isn’t an ancient myth, it’s an equal‑opportunity spoiler.


    Oglebay in Winter Is Worth the Trip

    If you think winter means stillness, you’re right. It also means layers of life under snow and ice. Changing natural spaces temporarily is winter’s favorite game.

    Moss-covered rocks by the falls now slick with ice.

    The frosted tree limbs along the trails might just be in full bloom or still covered in the orange hues autumn brings.

    Oglebay Park brings nature, adventure and quiet beauty together in a package that’s worth a roadtrip in any season.


    Seeing this waterfall is incredibly accessible, you can view it directly from the road or even from your car.


    Another adventure

    Be seen, celebrated, and connected! All Free! Submit to Poeaxtry Spotlights today. By form or email Poeaxtry@gmail.com

  • Hartman Rock Garden in Winter, A Snow-Covered Folk Art Detour

    Hartman Rock Garden in Winter, A Snow-Covered Folk Art Detour


    Best For:

    Folk art enthusiasts, Ohio history buffs, budget-friendly day trips, and creatives seeking inspiration.


    Hartman rock garden sign surrounded by snow
    Hartman rock garden 🪴

    Springfield, Ohio- Hartman Rock Garden:

    I was passing through Springfield, Ohio, on my way home from the troll exhibit in Dayton. So I decided to stop at the Hartman Rock Garden. Nearly a foot of snow buried much of the site. I did not want to pass up the experience of seeing this piece of living art.

    I knew I would need to return in warmer months to see the full detail. There was still no way I was going to miss the chance to stand in front of a place built during the Great Depression. Even under snow, the garden still held presence, quiet, patient, waiting for discovery.

    Blue sign with yellow font explaining the history of the Hartman rock garden
    History of the exhibit signage

    The Visit

    The exhibit is in the yard of a cute home in a calm neighborhood. There was a dog loose on the street so I left Luna in the car.

    Snow covered some of the sculptures, turning towers, miniature buildings, and stone pathways into partially hidden shapes. Some figures were not visible; others rose clearly above the drifts, hinting at how intricate the site must be once everything is uncovered.

    When the snow falls, these stone sculptures don’t disappear…

    they go into a deep, patient hibernation, waiting for the spring thaw to tell their story once more.

    It felt less like visiting a tourist attraction and more like stepping into someone’s preserved imagination. Even in winter, the sense of scale was obvious. You could see how much labor had gone into the stonework, how many small details were layered into the larger structures. The snow did not erase the experience. It simply turned it into a preview, a promise to come back and see the full story when the ground clears.

    The coffee cup but it’s full of snow
    One of my favorites

    History of the Hartman Rock Garden

    The Hartman Rock Garden was created by self-taught artist Harry George “Ben” Hartman, a Springfield foundry worker who began building the garden in 1932 after being laid off during the Great Depression. 

    Using concrete, glass, metal, and hundreds of thousands of stones gathered locally, Hartman transformed his backyard into an elaborate folk-art environment filled with miniature buildings, patriotic scenes, religious imagery, and imaginative structures. 

    History isn’t always found in dusty textbooks; sometimes, it’s hidden in a quiet backyard, built stone by stone from the ashes of a depression-era dream.

    Between 1932 and 1939 he constructed more than fifty detailed structures, including castles, historic landmarks, and symbolic sculptures representing education, religion, and American history. 

    After Hartman’s death in 1944, his family preserved the site for decades, and restoration efforts in 2008–2009 helped ensure the garden’s long-term survival as a recognized folk-art landmark maintained by a nonprofit organization. 

    Today the garden remains open to the public year-round, free to visit, standing as one of Ohio’s most unusual and personal art environments. 

    The school house and donation box surrounded by snow
    My other favorite

    My Experience

    Seeing the Hartman Rock Garden under snow felt like walking through a paused moment in time. The structures that rose above the snow allured at the complexity waiting beneath, reminding me that some places deserve more than a single visit.

    Two of my favorites were the tea or coffee cup and the large schoolhouse structure.

    It is a profound reminder that we are the architects of our own resilience, turning the broken pieces of a hard season into a permanent, public monument of hope.

    Even partially buried in winter, the Hartman Rock Garden proves how powerful individual creativity can be. Built by one man during one of the hardest economic periods in American history, it continues to stand decades later, inviting travelers to pause, look closely, and remember that imagination leaves physical footprints.


    Have you been to a rock garden like this? Or have you been to Hartman rock garden? Tell me in the comments your favorite folk art exhibit.


    Thomas Dambo Trolls- Trip One
    Be seen, celebrated, and connected! All Free! Submit to Poeaxtry Spotlights today. By form or email Poeaxtry@gmail.com

  • Aullwood Audubon Troll Trail Winter Trek

    Aullwood Audubon Troll Trail Winter Trek


    Best for:

    Art Lovers, trips with friends, day trips with the kids, solo reflections, trail lovers.


    The troll that hatched an egg sign in Aullwood Audubon
    The troll that hatched an egg.

    Aullwood Audubon

    Winter mornings have a different rhythm. The quiet roads, pale skies, and the soft anticipation of snow-covered trails. So on February 5th we left the house around 8:30 a.m., heading toward Dayton, Ohio.

    Luna and I arrived mid-morning with one goal in mind: the troll trail at Aullwood Audubon Center and Farm. With Luna geared up in boots that refused to stay put. Wr set out to see what the snow-heavy woods would allow us to reach.

    The house on the hill surrounded by snow and bare trees
    The Aull House, built in 1909 on a grassy knoll, became a historic site and was gifted to Five Rivers MetroParks in 1977.

    The Trail Experience

    The troll installations at Aullwood were created by internationally recognized Danish recycle artist Thomas Dambo. These large-scale sculptures built from reclaimed materials are designed to draw people deeper into nature while telling environmental stories.

    The Dayton installation, “The Troll That Hatched an Egg,” features three trolls placed along forest and farm trails, encouraging visitors to hike between locations rather than view them from a single spot. 

    Snow was still thick across the trails that morning, slowing our pace and turning a simple hike into a small endurance test. We completed roughly 1.5 miles, reaching the first two trolls.


    Trolls

    Bo

    Sign for Bo surrounded by snow
    Bo’s sign

    Bo (Troll #85), sitting quietly among the stream.

    Snow covered Bo the troll by Thomas Dambo
    Bo sitting in her frozen stream.

    Bibbi

    bibbi’s sign at Aullwood Audubon
    LOOK OUT FOR BIBBI!

    Bibbi (Troll #83) trying to fly away, equally impressive.

    Luna in boots and a tie die coat with Axton in his yellow jacket in front of Bibbi the troll
    It’s giving: Where the Wild Things Are

    I love how the artist blends reclaimed materials with woodland surroundings

    The sculptures both form a surreal contrast against the white winter landscape. Wooden textures rising out of frozen grounds and leafless branches. Trails at Aullwood can be primitive in sections, often dirt or gravel with exposed roots and uneven terrain, which becomes significantly more challenging under snow and ice. 


    The boots

    Luna’s boots repeatedly disappeared into deep snow, forcing several stops to refit them after finding them. The sheer amount of snowfall we have had recently really just doesn’t mesh with her booties. Eventually, between the conditions and the repeated gear adjustments, we decided to save the third troll for a return trip later in the month.

    A nicely marked trail sign surrounded by snow
    Trail sign pointing towards Bo and Bibbi

    About the Location

    Located just outside Dayton, Aullwood Audubon operates as a nature sanctuary, sustainable farm, and environmental education center with miles of trails passing through woods, meadows, streams, and prairie habitat. This troll exhibition is one of 155 of Dambo installations across 5 continents. This makes the trail both an art destination and a conservation-focused outdoor experience. 

    Bibbi from the side surrounded by trees and snow
    Bibbi 🩷

    Vibes

    Even shortened by winter conditions, this hike delivered exactly what winter trails promise, quiet woods and the reminder that unfinished hikes are simply invitations to return. We headed out after completing the first section of the trail, planning to revisit the remaining troll next week.

    After leaving we stooped to see a Great Depression era rock garden!


    Have you seen any of the Thomas Dambo trolls? Tell me which you’ve heard or seen in the comments.

    Don’t forget to share with someone you want to see the Dayton installation with.


    Internal links

    Dublin art Hartman rock garden

    Trip 2 Thomas Dambo trolls


    External links

    poeaxtry’s links

  • A Reflective Hiking Journal by Axton N.O. Mitchell

    A Reflective Hiking Journal by Axton N.O. Mitchell


    Best for:

    Beginners interested in emotional nature journaling, hiking enthusiasts looking to emotionally reflect, independent press fans, and those who need a place to sit with their feelings.


    Published by Poeaxtry’s Prism


    Waterfall Confessions

    Some trails lead you forward.

    Some lead you inward.

    Waterfall Confessions is a guided reflective hiking journal designed for those who process life best with dirt on their boots and wind in their lungs. Built around immersive prompts rooted in real trail moments, this collection invites you to confront anxiety, memory, identity, forgiveness, and release while standing in front of something ancient and unmoved.

    Cartoon human sits on rock by waterfall
    Waterfall Confessions By Axton N.O. Mitchell

    This is not a “how was your hike?” notebook.

    This is a mirror made of water.


    Why I Made This Collection:

    • I hike because movement clarifies what sitting cannot. There are things I have only been able to admit to myself while standing in front of a waterfall.
    • The noise gives permission.The constant motion makes stagnation impossible. The scale reminds me that my spirals are small in the grand scheme, even when they feel overwhelming.
    • Too many journals feel disconnected from lived experience. Too many prompts float in abstraction without grounding.
    • I created this collection because reflection hits differently when your heart rate is elevated and your breath is syncing with something wild.
    • Mental health conversations belong outside fluorescent lighting. Some of us untangle trauma better in motion.

    This journal exists at the intersection of hiking, emotional processing, and radical self honesty.


    What Makes This Different:

    Trail grounded prompts inspired by real outdoor moments.

    Questions that move beyond surface gratitude into trauma, identity, fear, surrender, and growth.

    Space to document locations visited or reflected on.

    Designed for hikers, wanderers, overthinkers, and anyone healing in motion.

    Created by an indie poet committed to minority voices, accessibility, and community driven publishing.

    This is not fluff journaling.

    This is confrontation, softened by nature.

    Green background black writing title page for Waterfall confessions by Axton N.O. Mitchell with small waterfall doodle at bottom
    Title page of digital collection

    How to Use This Journal:

    • On the trail: Bring it printed or digitally accessible on your device. Pause at waterfalls, creek crossings, or other water features. Answer what hits. Skip what doesn’t. Come back later.
    • After the hike: Reflect on what surfaced physically versus emotionally. What shifted between movement and stillness?
    • At home: Use it as a meditative return to places that grounded you. The prompts work even if you are reflecting on memory instead of current terrain.
    • For repeat visits: Return to the same waterfall months later. See what changed. See what didn’t.

    There is no “right” way to move through it. It only asks for honesty.


    Green background watercolor texture with black font 2 prompts with black lines to add response
    Inside the Prompt Journal.

    Who This Is For:

    Hikers who journal

    Journalers who need a reason to go outside

    People processing anxiety, depression, trauma, or transition

    Minority creatives who do not see themselves centered in traditional wellness spaces

    Indie souls who prefer grassroots tools over mass market therapy aesthetics

    If you have ever stood somewhere wild and thought, I can admit it here, this is yours.


    Where to Buy:

    Waterfall Confessions: A Reflective Hiking Journal is available as a digital collection through:

    Payhip Gumroad Etsy

    Purchasing directly supports independent publishing, minority centered creative work, and future community driven projects through Poeaxtry and the Prism.


    Other ways to read:

    Barter, review exchanges, and accessibility conversations are always welcome. Paywalls were built to be questioned. Email poeaxtry@gmail.com and ask for more information.


    An Emotional Adventure Journal:

    Water erodes stone through persistence, not force.

    Healing often works the same way.

    Waterfall Confessions is an invitation to let something steady move through you.

    To name what you are carrying.

    To release even a fragment.

    To document the version of yourself that showed up that day.

    Not the polished one.

    The real one.

    Take it to the trail.

    Let it echo.

    Write anyway.


    Internal links:

    Care for You. Because Who Else Will?

    The text that almost scared me away.

    Staying human. Kelso 2. I like to read;

    Prince. Ramblings. Endings.


    External Links:

    Poeaxtry’s Links. Portfolio.

    Amazon Author.

    Goodreads.


  • My Type of People

    My Type of People


    Best For:

    Honest individuals, those who stand for what’s right, courageous, experienced, creative, nature lovers, and readers of reflective essays.

    Who are your favorite people to be around?

    The People I Cherish

    There are a few specific energy types that draw me to people: a spark rooted in authenticity and openness. I absolutely love being around those people who are genuinely open-minded. You know the ones who accept differences, whether they are choices or not, provided they are not harmful. They meet diversity with curiosity, not judgment. These are people see the world through many lenses and let everyone coexist without needing to change them.

    Real Recognize Real

    I gravitate toward those who are real, who don’t hide behind polished masks or social expectations. They stand by their beliefs, share their work when they feel called to, and show their true selves without pretense. There’s honesty in their humor, humility in their successes, and integrity in their failures.

    Authentic connection is not about perfection; it is about finding those who meet diversity with curiosity rather than judgment.

    Courageous

    The kind of person who is unafraid to defend others and stands up for what’s right always catch my attention. They choose justice over popularity and empathy over convenience. They always say something when silence would be easier, and their courage is quietly inspiring.

    Life Experiences

    I admire those with life experience, not just in years, but in lessons learned. Emotional depth, mental health awareness, self-care practices, education, and navigating trials that shape resilience all are traits that call me to someone. These people carry wisdom, not arrogance, and offer insight without judgment.

    Judgement Free

    Non-judgmental energy is magnetic. I seek people who allow others to live freely, without imposing their own limitations or biases. They create space for genuine connection. Always promoting others freedom to be themselves. These are all rare and beautiful gifts in friendship.

    Creativity

    Creative minds who wish to share, network, collaborate, and uplift one another. Creative collaborators are the lifeblood of indie communities. They are the people who dream together, build together, and celebrate each other’s successes without envy.

    Adventurers

    I adore others who wander into the wild, the hikers and campers who use the outdoors not as escape but as a reset. Others like me who embrace spontaneous trips, respect nature and practice Leave No Trace. Finding joy in shared adventures. They provide a calmness and honesty while navigating trails with patience and respect for the earth.

    To me, the wild is not an escape from reality, but a necessary reset that humbles the spirit and sharpens the senses.

    Finally, last but not least those who share my rockhounding, crystal, witchy, and spiritual interests. Whether we’re combing riverbeds for stones, meditating under trees, or trading ritual tips, these connections are grounded, playful, and meaningful.


    Why These People Matter

    Being around people like this is grounding and expansive at once. They challenge, teach, inspire, and nurture. They bring a balance of adventure and depth, creativity and wisdom, acceptance and courage. They make life feel like something to explore fully, not just endure.

    When I step into their presence, I feel safe, seen, and energized. These are the people who make ordinary days feel like discoveries, who turn the mundane into magic, and who remind me why connection, respect, and authenticity matter more than anything else.


    If you’re a person who possesses any of the traits above our discord server for artists, readers, authors, poets, and all other respectful creatives and creators we would love to have you!


    All Poeaxtry’s Links

  • Becoming the One Who Stayed: a Poem on Transition

    Becoming the One Who Stayed: a Poem on Transition


    Best for:

    Transgender people, gender nonconformists, mental health, growth, lovers of poetry, and creative writing readers.


    Some transformations are visible, others happen quietly, beneath the us people see visually. Transition often requires a period of survival that looks like performance, a daily rehearsal of someone the world finds easy to accept.

    This poem explores the space between those roles. It honors both the version of me that endured for years and the version that finally stepped forward into the light..

    Poetry is the bridge between the survival we perform and the truth we finally speak.


    Becoming the One Who Stayed

    You would not have liked me

    if you had met the woman I was

    pretending to be.

    Playing her part cost me a lot.

    She wasn’t full of whimsy.

    She didn’t know the

    happiness I have found.

    So how could she be full of positivity?

    We spent a lot of time together, trying to

    share our misery with anyone else,

    until we knew it was time for her to

    leave and for me to emerge,

    changed.


    Poet’s Note

    This piece reflects the emotional distance between who I once had to present to the world and who I am now. Transition changed more than my gender marker, it changed the way I experience joy, community, and the possibility of being fully present in my own story. The person I used to perform was not false because she lacked meaning, she was necessary for survival. Letting her go was not an act of rejection. Simply put, it was an act of becoming.

    Transitioning is not an erasure of the past; it is the radical act of claiming an authentic present.


    My Truth

    Transition did not simply alter how I am seen, it reshaped how I exist within my own life. It gave me permission to stop negotiating with survival and start building something steadier, something honest. The person I am now is not separate from who I was, but proof that endurance can become arrival.


    Internal Links

    A different poem a different day

    Transgender Focused Legislation Outlook


  • Night Walk Through Moonville Tunnel , Snow, Steel, and the Lavender Lady

    Night Walk Through Moonville Tunnel , Snow, Steel, and the Lavender Lady


    Best For:

    History buffs, ghost story lovers, low grade trail walkers, night hikes with friends, individuals interested in Appalachian folklore.


    On February 4th, from about 8 pm to 10 pm, we finally did it.

    A late evening walk out to Moonville Tunnel in McArthur. Our headlamps and flashlights cutting through the cold air, snow still thick enough to slow our steps. What was supposed to be just Kylie, my new headlamps, me, and Luna turned into a small night crew. Kylie was still a little freaked out about going at night, so her sister Adi and her partner Houston came along. Kelsey, my partner decided they would come too.

    Snow snow snow
    Can you see the tunnel in the darkness?

    The Walk In

    There is a bridge right off of the trailhead. The fence on the bridge is threaded with hair ties and locks sticking in the metal. Little offerings, remnants, signs that people come here holding onto something.

    Our light cut through the Ohio cold while mingling with the shared, quiet thrill of reclaiming a place left behind by time.

    Hair ties on the fence on the bridge
    The hair ties on the bridge

    Moonville Tunnel

    The tunnel is not far past that bridge.

    Though, we did about 1.5 miles total. The mostly flat terrain was covered in snow. I would call this a highly accessible trail in better conditions depending upon what the material the ground is composed of under the snow. The snow slowed us down, almost mid-calf in some spots. We were thankful the grade itself stays gentle.

    At night, the tunnel does not announce itself. It absorbs light. Our headlamps and flashlights carved the dark into sections of stone, ice, breath, and silhouettes of my friends. I got some shots of the tunnel mouth, and others where my homies looked like figures in a story.

    I have been trying to do this walk for a while. Doing it at night made it better.

    Moonville tunnel at night in the glow of snow.
    The haunted moonville tunnel

    A Railroad That Refused to Die Quietly

    The Moonville Tunnel stands as the most prominent vestige of a once-bustling mining community. Thriving in the mid-to-late 1800s, Moonville was a vital coal and iron hub along the Marietta and Cincinnati Railroad. While the town faded into the forest by the mid-1900s following the decline of the mines, stone tunnel which was completed in 1856 remains a haunting monument to Appalachian industry and the ghosts of its labor.


    Standing as a monument to the labor that built Appalachia. The tracks might be gone, but the stone remains, holding the weight of communities left begind.

    The area now connects to the Moonville Rail Trail, a corridor through the Zaleski State Forest and surrounding public lands. Tracks that once groaned under the weight of coal and passengers now carry hikers, ghost hunters, and those of us simply wanting to see what the dark does to a place left behind.

    One of my favorite pieces of graffiti inside Moonville tunnel.
    Graffiti

    The Haunted Stories, Lavender Lady and Lantern Light

    Moonville Tunnel is considered one of the most haunted locations in Ohio folklore.

    Of all the restless spirits said to walk the Zaleski woods, the Lavender Lady is the most gentle. Legend says she was struck by a train near the tunnel’s mouth, some say while gathering wildflowers, others say while simply walking home. She is rarely seen, but often sensed; a sudden, misplaced drift of lavender perfume cutting through the damp, mossy scent of the stone tunnel.

    The Brakeman is the most famously seen or sensed apparition of them all. His story is etched into the local records of 1859, a man named Theodore Dixon. He was caught in the path of the very iron beast he served. Now, visitors speak of a rhythmic, swinging lantern cutting through the pitch-black bore of the tunnel. They hear the heavy crunch of boots on gravel where no one stands, and voices that bleed through the stone, echoing a warning that arrived a century too late

    Shadows here have a way of detaching themselves from the walls, and the air can turn bone-cold even in the humid swell of an Ohio summer. Whether it is the weight of collective grief, the power of suggestion, or something older that refuses to vacate the line, the stories cling to the stone like the moss that feeds on the damp. Decades of paranormal investigations have only deepened the silence that follows when the laughter of unseen voices fades.

    Houston got a piggie back ride from adi
    Houston and Adi

    Devils Head Table, A Daytime Return

    I have heard I will need to go back during daylight to see Devil’s Tea Table, a nearby rock formation. Night swallowed everything beyond our immediate beam range. The snow kept us focused on footing.

    So yes, I will be back. In daylight. Different lens, different mood.

    All of us from the trip in front of the tunnel in the dark
    The Homies

    What the Night Actually Felt Like

    It was not terror.

    It was tension, yes. Curiosity. A little adrenaline. A little laughter. Snow crunching.

    It felt like reclaiming space. An abandoned industrial scar turned into a nature trail. A haunted legend turned into a group walk with queer love, chosen family, and muddy boots.

    axton in grey hoodie and vest and Kelsey in black jacket
    My stink

    Accessibility

    Accessibility-wise, outside heavy snow, the grade is gentle and mostly straight. Minimal elevation change. Wide enough for side by side walking in most sections. If clear, this could be a solid accessible trail option for many people.

    Accessibility isn’t one-size-fits-all. In daylight, during warm seasons this trail is a gentle path.

    At night, it becomes a fight with shadows, shifting sensory makes your depth perception vanishes. All but your hands nearly invisible. Winter adds slippery ground and uneven footfalls.

    At night though, accessibility shifts. Vision narrows. Shadows distort depth. It becomes a different terrain entirely.

    Graffiti from inside Moonville Tunnel
    More cool tunnel art

    Moonville Tunnel is not just a haunted hotspot in Ohio folklore. It is a relic of Appalachian labor, industrial rise and fall, and the way stories survive longer than towns do.

    Walking it at night with people I trust made it less about ghosts and more about presence. Snow slowed us. The dark sharpened us. The tunnel held all of it.

    I will go back in daylight for Devil’s Tea Table. But I am glad my first full walk out there was under headlamp beams and winter air, because some places deserve to be met in the dark first.


    Poem written reflecting on moonville

  • The Rust Belts Beauty: Pride & Grit a Poem

    The Rust Belts Beauty: Pride & Grit a Poem


    Best For:

    Appalachian studies, residents of the Rust Belt, poetry enthusiasts, readers exploring regional identity, individuals interested in personal resilience, and mental health journeys.


    Heritage, Endurance, And Beauty in a Poem

    This original poem explores the intersection of Appalachian identity, the rugged history of the Rust Belt, and the personal resilience required to thrive in a landscape defined by industry and grit.

    Appalachia is not merely a place we come from; it is woven into the very structure of our bones and memories.”

    Through themes of heritage and endurance, this piece highlights the beauty often overlooked in the industrial corridors of the Midwest.


    Pride & Grit

    By Axton N.O. Mitchell

    Year after year, I laced my trainers, preparing
    to outrun the river valley’s rusted villages.

    Never noticing the erosion, the tributaries and creeks
    carved through my chemistry along my way.

    Steel-dusted lungs,
    rust-caked memories.
    Running through these
    rolling-hills.

    Appalachia doesn’t raise us,
    it’s welded to our
    skeletal systems.

    Grit isn’t bought,
    but earned through
    life experience.
    You carry this with pride
    Like a tiger’s does his stripes.

    Our personal gift from the
    Ohio River herself,
    should we see her beauty
    more clearly.


    True grit is never purchased at a store; it is carved out of the hard terrain of lived experience.”

    Appalachian Poetry

    The history of the Rust Belt is etched into our daily lives, but it is the quiet strength of our people that defines our true landscape. As we continue to navigate these changing valleys, let us hold onto the grit that shaped us. Thank you for walking through this reflection on heritage and resilience with me.


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  • A Poem of Thanks to the Mothers that Came After Mine

    A Poem of Thanks to the Mothers that Came After Mine


    Best For:

    Individuals navigating grief, dead parents club members, seekers of healing poetry, people exploring mother-child dynamics, poetry lovers, and fans of emotional, poetry.


    Grief and Parent-Loss

    Grief does not follow a linear path, and sometimes, the most profound healing comes from the unexpected hands of those who step into our lives after a tragedy. This piece is a reflection on the mothers, both biological and chosen, who offered support when I needed it most.

    They didn’t try to replace her. They simply made sure I didn’t have to walk the path alone.

    Thanks to You

    Losing my mom was the
    hardest thing I’ve ever faced.

    I owe a huge thank you to a
    select few mothers who stepped up
    in my time of need.

    Women who have:
    kept me laughing,
    made sure I was okay,
    showed me glimpses of my mother.

    Most importantly,
    women who were
    there for me.


    Immensely Grateful

    To the mothers who still show up: thank you.

    Your presence is a testament to the fact that even in the face of immense loss, we are never truly walking alone. If this reflection resonates with your own journey, please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments or subscribe to join this space for more poems on resilience and healing.

    When the silence of loss became too loud, these women became the music that brought me back to myself

    Internal Links

    A Letter I’ll Never Send to my Dad

    A poem about the longest day without my mom.