The Many Faces of Poetry: November Poems
Posted: November 26, 2021 Filed under: Poetry, The Many Faces of Poetry | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Poetry, The Many Faces of Poetry, Words, Writing to be Read 1 Comment
Volcano
October 2021
If words can be so beautiful that they
whoosh you from your body
into a place celestial
a paradise that’s not a myth
but a living world inside which
we dwell as though we have forgotten our own
eyes and our stomachs rumble
waiting for a meal that nurtures souls
by the trillions,
by the trillions, and what we call souls or spirits
can be called ghosts or intelligences
or French fries
no telling what they’re calling them ten billion light years from here.
It’s the same damned thing
so bright that it lights the stars
as if from the eternal birthday candle
or the scattering of cinders from a cooling volcano
filling a lake bed with red light and heat light
and heat
sustenance light. That’s how beautiful
words can be.
Late Stage Capitalism
Oct 20, 2021
Is this late stage capitalism?
People watching endless commercials disguised
as content, watching hypnotized
as the reasons to stay home multiply Covid
the madhouse of freedom, that’s America
where Freedom is ridiculous
and everyone’s opinion
matters, such a big deal, (your opinion)
I can give you a break, (I can I can), I can let you
go on about nothing, walk the streets with a sign
saying nothing, late stage capitalism
manipulated and focused greed,
through the screens, on the devices
helpless to disengage (what am I doing?)
late stage
helpless to engage (I’m doing this is what I’m doing)
capitalism, schism, minimism, monism
monetism, hypnotism, religionism
late stage catechism
I’ve run out of ism, run out of my ism, don’t even say it
cuz I’m old and getting older at the same speed as
everyone else.
This is late stage capitalism.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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The Many Faces of Poetry: More Poetry From 21 Jumping Off Street
Posted: October 22, 2021 Filed under: Poetry, The Many Faces of Poetry | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Poetry, The Many Faces of Poetry, Writing to be Read 2 CommentsFleas
There is a flea that alights on me;
former citizen of dog land
it got lost and is attracted
to my hairy arms.
My first instinct is to crush it
but some fleas are crush resistant and
it is futile to try, so just brush
don’t crush and allow the flea
its tiny attempt at life. I’m indifferent to some
creatures
unless they irritate or distract
and that is the flea
whose brotherhood is apparently immortal.
The host, too, is immortal, so
there is no way to be rid
of fleas.
Forgetting
“We haven’t earned the right to forget”. Guy Le Cuerrec – photographer
IF you think the gate is in front of you
look to the side.
If you think the gate is behind you
look ahead.
If you think a window is closed
in your room, it may be open but
hidden inside the closet.
If you think there is a closet
think again
there is a closet.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
___________________________________________________________________________________________
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Treasuring Poetry – Meet poet Lynda McKinney Lambert and a review
Posted: October 16, 2021 Filed under: Book Review, Interview, Poetry, Treasuring Poetry, Writing | Tags: Book Review, Interview, Lynda McKinney Lambert, Poet Interview, Poetry, Songs for the Pilgrimage, Treasuring Poetry, Writing to be Read 45 Comments
Today, I am delighted to welcome artist and poet, Lynda McKinney Lambert, to Treasuring Poetry with her thoughts about poems and poetry,
Which of your own poems is your favorite?
I chose a poem on page 127 of my latest publication, Songs for the Pilgrimage, DLD Books, 2021. “Talisman,” is located in Part IV: Landmarks and Landscapes.
“Talisman” (This is a free-form poem)
by
Lynda McKinney Lambert
(written April 30, 2016)
Visualize a talisman-
precious stones and crystals
woven in bold patterns
plenty of Japanese glass seed beads
tiny drops of perfect symmetry.
I select flawless beads
stab them onto steel needles
hundreds of stitches.
thrust them one at a time
upwards into the heavens
endlessly.
I plunge my thin needle
deep through layers of stiff cloth
make my stitches sure
hold tight.
I’m a warrior woman
thumping my spirit-drum
made of dappled starlight.
I measure timeless days
counting beads in
a mystical circle
held together
with a bronze toggle clasp.
A Talisman brings
protection from evil
healing for weary spirits
nourishment for aching bodies
courage for new directions
on a pilgrimage
over treacherous pathways
guides my dimmed eyes
and nervous steps.
Black onyx ovals
are like a vintage fan
unfurled with a flourish
or a sacred victory flag
prepared to cast an invocation.
my fingers stroke cold stones
glossy-smooth, polished, faceted.
gifts for a King.
Copyright, August 2, 2020. All rights reserved.
What inspired you to write this particular poem?
My Process:
My poems are created in the same way I create a work of art.
First, the studio must be in pristine condition. I go through this cleansing activity of putting everything in its proper place, cleaning the surface of my working table, and laying out my materials.
Second, I begin to put a few things down on the paper. I may b begin with just a word that has been flashing through my mind for some time. I may begin with an idea or a color, or an object that I want to describe.
I start making a list of all of those things. I also refer to the thesaurus and the dictionary to expand my possibilities and to give me insight into the deeper meanings of words I am working with. I continue laying this all out on my list until I have quite a lot of information from which to begin the work. I like to work with at least forty words, phrases, or ideas initially.
Third, I begin selecting from my list. As I select a word, I cross it off my list after I have put it down on the page where I am building the poem.
Fourth, I continue this selection process from my pool of ideas. As I am working back and forth from the brainstorming sheet to the poetry sheet – I am deleting, moving, or adding in my process.
Since I am a person who likes to begin with chaos, I continue sifting and sorting and I am actually bringing order to the chaos.
Fifth, After I’ve laid down a considerable amount of line, I begin the process of deleting and paring it all down to the essential essence. I want my poem to become sleek and spare. I remove every article that I can in this process. I do not want any extra words. I consider them a distraction that hides the core of the poem. I am ruthless at this time in the process.
Sixth, after I’ve taken away as much as I can and exposed the essence of what I am describing, I call it finished. I will read it over many times during the process to get a feel for how it will sound when spoken. At this point it passes from an idea to a living sound. The poem is an object that stands alone. It has taken on meaning in ways I could not have imagined when I began the building process. I am satisfied.
I chose this poem for it exemplifies the parallel between writing and making mixed-media fiber art
The focus of my attention for this poem is on the making of the object that will become a talisman.
When I am writing, I am conscious of being a weaver as I move my words, sentences, and punctuation around the page. When I am making art, I am conscious of how everything fits together as I plunge my thin, sharp needle through tiny faceted beads, Czech and Swarovski crystals, circle around gemstones and capturing found objects. My needle is my paintbrush, forming the shapes and values that take me on a journey.
When I begin to write or make art, I prepare for a journey. I carefully lay out all of the things I will need for my travels. I expect to reach a destination at the time when I begin to write.
About Lynda McKinney Lambert
Lynda’s interdisciplinary interests led her to a career in teaching across disciplines in fine art and English literature. She retired from her position as a professor of fine arts and humanities at Geneva College in 2008. Retirement from her international teaching schedule opened the door for her to pursue her love of writing full-time.
Lynda works from her rural western Pennsylvania home in The Village of Wurtemburg. Her five published books are available on Amazon, Smashwords, and other retail book sellers. Lynda’s newest book of poetry and personal non-fiction essays was published in April 2021 – Songs for the Pilgrimage.
Her second chapbook, Primavera: When Spring Break is Over, is ready for publication.
She is creating a collection of poems for a chapbook for the summer season and one for the autumn season in the year ahead.
Lynda’s poems appear internationally in journals and anthologies. She lives with her husband Bob and they celebrated their 60th anniversary on April 14, 2021.
Lynda earned a BFA and MFA in Painting. She also received the MA in English degree with her focus on poetry.
Purchase Lynda’s books:
My e-books on Smashwords.com
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1080756
Authors Page at DLD Books.
http://www.dldbooks.com/lyndalambert
Learn more about Lynda
Smorgasborg Café and Bookstore – Meet the Authors_Review
Robbie Cheadle Book Review of Star Signs: New and Selected Poems.https://www.lyndalambert.com/robbie-cheadle-review-of-star-signs/
Ten Things You May Not Know About Me.
This interview is featured on Marcia Meara’s Blog, The Write Stuff. September 3, 2021.#TenThingsYouMayNotKnow – About Lynda Lambert | The Write Stuff (marciamearawrites.com)
Showcase: Songs for the Pilgrimage.
Published by Charles Portolano, editor of The Avocet: A Journal of Nature Poetry.https://www.lyndalambert.com/showcase/
NFReads – An Interview with Lynda McKinney Lambert.https://www.nfreads.com/interview-with-author-lynda-mckinney-lambert/
Poem, Photo, and Explication of the work.https://www.lyndalambert.com/autumn-gifts-poem/
My review of Songs for the Pilgrimage
![Songs for the Pilgrimage by [Lynda Lambert]](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/51fS-MNn1RS.jpg)
What Amazon says
From the Prologue and Epilogue of Songs for the Pilgrimage
The word pilgrimage refers to a religious journey. Individuals commit to traveling to reach a predetermined destination, such as a shrine or holy place. The excursion is a trek from one location to another. Pilgrimage has been an abiding theme in my writing for several decades.
My first book, Concerti: Psalms for the Pilgrimage (Kota Press, 2002, now out of print), was inspired by my annual journeys to Salzburg, Austria, where I taught a month–long drawing and writing course. I revised and expanded the previous collection of stories, poems, historical notes, and journal entries for this new book. Songs for the Pilgrimage features writings, drawings, and photographs I created over four decades.
I conclude with an artist’s prayer:
My studio is yours, Lord. Be my welcome guest today. Your goodness and unfailing kindness have been with me all my life. I have tried to make your glory visible in the works of art I have created. Someday I will close the door of my studio for the final time, but I will not be alone. Together, we will go to your home, where we will continue to collaborate on glorious projects throughout eternity. Amen.
May I Serve You?
Here are the stacks of paintings
for you to look at tonight.
I carefully brought them out
of storage closets
arranged them here
in the kitchen—
where my children used to play
games around a square oak table.
Once, food to nourish the body
was prepared here, by my hands.
Tonight, there is an
abundance of food
for your soul.
Come into my kitchen and
taste the world,
prepared by my hands.
© 1997
My review
Songs for the Pilgrimage is an unusual and interesting collection of poems, interspersed with journal entries from the poets annual journeys to Austria where she taught a month long drawing and writing course. The journal entries provide a lot of insight into the poet’s life and experiences during these times and dovetail with the poems which expand on these experiences by vividly depicting the sights, smells, and thoughts of the poet. The poems are mainly freestyle and cover a full spectrum of observations including interpretations of different artworks, songs, and music.
My favourite poem in this collection and the one that demonstrates the vividness of the imagery presented in these poems is called How Vivaldi Learned to Dance:
“Antonio Vivaldi heard a new beat
began to dance inside his soul
Concerto Grosso came to visit him
D-Major opened his eyes at dawn
every set of notes in the strong
foot-stomping beginning
gave his soul a new pair of wings
horns, oboes, 2 violins, Vivaldi cast the spell
imagination approached the heavenly realm
just as his nimble feet urged him to dance on clouds
kicking up his heels, high off the pungent streets
lively staccato andante reminded
Medieval Venetians to stroll on sunny afternoons
narrow passageways, the scent of Italian lilies floats
over cobblestone paths Vivaldi’s thoughts
pulsed cautiously into the Adagio duet
quiet staccato notes changed his rhythm
roaming violin twins began a centripetal dance
slow and steady – up, down, up, down, up
the long final chord ended his journey on
urban bridges of arched stone
violin solos of his butterfly visions soared
where playful frantic allegro takes flight
X is the unknow factor when the master musician
yearns for one more summer day in Venice
Zeitgeist. His presence spanned the Baroque ages.”
I chose to share this particular poem because I feel it represents everything I enjoyed about this book. The vivid imagery is demonstrated in may places with the depictions incorporating the senses of sight, sound, movement/touch, and smell, the references to the music show the poet’s appreciation of Vivaldi, the Italian Baroque composer, virtuoso violinist, teacher, impresario, and Roman Catholic priest and her love of all of these things, including her religion. There is a strong theme of faith and religious respect running through this book. There is also a haunting attraction for Venice and all it offers which ties in with the overarching concept of a pilgrimage.
An intriguing and enjoyable book of prose and poetry.
About Robbie Cheadle
Robbie Cheadle is a South African children’s author and poet with 9 children’s books and 2 poetry books.
The 7 Sir Chocolate children’s picture books, co-authored by Robbie and Michael Cheadle, are written in sweet, short rhymes which are easy for young children to follow and are illustrated with pictures of delicious cakes and cake decorations. Each book also includes simple recipes or biscuit art directions which children can make under adult supervision.
Robbie has also published 2 books for older children which incorporate recipes that are relevant to the storylines.
Robbie has 2 adult novels in the paranormal historical and supernatural fantasy genres published under the name Roberta Eaton Cheadle. She also has short stories in the horror and paranormal genre and poems included in several anthologies.
Robbie writes a monthly series for https://writingtoberead.com called Growing Bookworms. This series discusses different topics relating to the benefits of reading to children.
Robbie has a blog, https://robbiesinspiration.wordpress.com/ where she shares book reviews, recipes, author interviews, and poetry.
Find Robbie Cheadle
Blog: https://www.robbiecheadle.co.za/
Blog: robbiesinspiration.wordpress.com
Twitter: BakeandWrite
Instagram: Robbie Cheadle – Instagram
Facebook: Sir Chocolate Books
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The Many Faces of Poetry: Poems Never End
Posted: October 8, 2021 Filed under: Poetry, The Many Faces of Poetry | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Poetry, The Many Faces of Poetry, Writing to be Read 2 Comments
Safecracker
The woman is talking to her shopping cart;
or: she’s talking to the stuff IN the shopping cart, it’s hard to know.
She doesn’t have a home. Maybe she’s talking to her home, that makes
a bit of sense.
I was there, for a part of my life.
I didn’t know where I would sleep.
An unlocked car or truck, maybe.
It was horrible; I was always scared.
I had a friend, one friend. You’ve got to have someone
at your back
when you’re low on the pole. If you’re lucky
that person won’t take your stuff
and vanish.
My guy was an ex and future con named Roger. We liked the same drugs.
If I scored, Roger scored too.
You’ve got to have something to do
when you’re homeless. Copping drugs
fills the day, occupies the role of job and family.
I was better at copping than Roger. For him, I was a profit taking venture.
He probably wound up in jail again. He did time at Arizona State Prison
for cracking safes. He was bound to get busted again.
I wasn’t. I didn’t.
Photography
“We haven’t earned the right to forget”. Guy Le Cuerrec
IF you think the gate is in front of you
look to the side.
If you think the gate is behind you
look ahead.
If you think a window is closed
in your room, it may be open but
hidden inside the closet.
If you think there is a closet
think again
there is a closet.
Surprised
I didn’t expect
to have to be this brave
to live in the world.
I had no idea.
I didn’t know what I would need,
how much strength it would take,
how deeply I would fail,
how inadequate I would feel.
I’m not ready.
I look at ways out;
I look at death,
I look at drugs,
I use every excuse
to flee.
I do it every day.
I didn’t expect it
to be this hard.
My imagination was not prepared
to encompass the misery,
the sheer strangeness
of what happens,
what has happened,
what I can’t make un-happen.
I thought I would be protected.
I thought it would be pleasant.
I thought it would be okay,
that I would have a good time,
be satisfied, get away free of entanglements,
leave a nice footprint
that could be seen clearly
down through time.
I am surprised by the mud,
appalled by the blood,
angry with god for letting this happen
to anyone, let alone people I know and love.
I didn’t expect to have to be this brave.
I didn’t think I had it in me;
I still don’t. But I persist
in spite of every difficulty.
I don’t really know why.
It’s not a matter of a foolish belief sustaining me.
My belief is not foolish. My belief is my survival.
There simply is nothing large enough,
only God the Unknowable
can hold the grand squalor,
the screaming birth,
the wriggling, enduring heart at the center
of this beleaguered world.
I have no strength, no courage,
I have nothing but strategies to avoid
agony, and they don’t always work.
I survive, for a time,
while the world survives
forever, stronger than
I can be, deeper than I can fulfill,
more powerful than my will,
defiant in the face
of my disappointment in myself.
The world and something loving that redeems
all torment,
survives.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
_________________________________________________________________________________________
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Treasuring Poetry – Meet poet and author Harmony Kent and my review
Posted: September 18, 2021 Filed under: Book Review, Books, Interview, Poetry, Treasuring Poetry | Tags: Author Interview, Book Review, Poetry, Poetry Collection, Robbie Cheadle, Writing to be Read 102 CommentsToday, I am delighted to feature poet and author Harmony Kent as my guest for Treasuring Poetry. I have read one of Harmony’s fictional books and her non-fiction book, Creative Solutions for the Modern Writer: Inspirational Tools to Fire Your Imagination, and they are both excellent. I have read and reviewed her poetry book, Slices of Soul: A Collection of Contemporary Poetry.
Welcome Harmony!
Which of your own poems is your favourite?
VOYAGE
Into the unknown we go
riding the ocean breeze
tacking this way and that
not too concerned with the far horizon
At peace, keeping an eye on the waves
that toss us about now and then
sailing through bright day
and deep dark night
It matters not
what tempest may come
we will weather the storms together
while we wend our way
We’ve lain our course
taken our soundings
and with love at the helm
we’ll keep a steady pace
Call it what you will
scow, skiff, sloop, hulk, schooner, bucket
so long as we caulk the boards and set the stays
we shall not founder
There’s no glory like it
in the heavens or on the Earth
than sailing free into the fire
of the sun as it sets into the glistening sea
What inspired you to write this particular poem?
When I met the love of my life, right away, we both went through some tough personal times. Those hardships brought us closer, and we’ve now been married for two years.
Which genre of poetry do you enjoy writing the most and why?
Some form of Haiku, because it forces me write with brevity and choose my words with utmost care.
Which genre of poetry do you enjoy reading the most?
As with my writing, my reading is eclectic. I enjoy a broad range of styles and genres.
What is your favourite poem?
Auguries of Innocence by William Blake
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage
A Dove house filled with Doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell through all its regions
A dog starved at his Masters Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State
A Horse misused upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear
A Skylark wounded in the wing
A Cherubim does cease to sing
The Game Cock clipped & armed for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright
Every Wolfs & Lions howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul
The wild deer, wandering here & there
Keeps the Human Soul from Care
The Lamb misused breeds Public Strife
And yet forgives the Butchers knife
The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that wont Believe
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbelievers fright
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be beloved by Men
He who the Ox to wrath has moved
Shall never be by Woman loved
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spiders enmity
He who torments the Chafers Sprite
Weaves a Bower in endless Night
The Caterpillar on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar
The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat
Feed them & thou wilt grow fat
The Gnat that sings his Summers Song
Poison gets from Slanders tongue
The poison of the Snake & Newt
Is the sweat of Envy’s Foot
The poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artists Jealousy
The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags
A Truth that’s told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent
It is right it should be so
Man was made for Joy & Woe
And when this we rightly know
Through the World we safely go
Joy & Woe are woven fine
A Clothing for the soul divine
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine
The Babe is more than swaddling Bands
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made & Born were hands
Every Farmer Understands
Every Tear from Every Eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity
This is caught by Females bright
And returned to its own delight
The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar
Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of Death
The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air
Does to Rags the Heavens tear
The Soldier armed with Sword & Gun
Palsied strikes the Summers Sun
The poor Man’s Farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold on Africs Shore
One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands
Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole Nation sell & buy
He who mocks the Infants Faith
Shall be mocked in Age & Death
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall neer get out
He who respects the Infants faith
Triumphs over Hell & Death
The Childs Toys & the Old Man’s Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons
The Questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to Reply
He who replies to words of Doubt
Doth put the Light of Knowledge out
The Strongest Poison ever known
Came from Caesars Laurel Crown
Nought can Deform the Human Race
Like to the Armours iron brace
When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow
A Riddle or the Crickets Cry
Is to Doubt a fit Reply
The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile
Make Lame Philosophy to smile
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will ne’er Believe do what you Please
If the Sun & Moon should Doubt
They’d immediately Go out
To be in a Passion you Good may Do
But no Good if a Passion is in you
The Whore & Gambler by the State
Licenced build that Nations Fate
The Harlots cry from Street to Street
Shall weave Old England’s winding Sheet
The Winners Shout the Losers Curse
Dance before dead England’s Hearse
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to Endless Night
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light
God Appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night
But does a Human Form Display To those who Dwell in Realms of day
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43650/auguries-of-innocence
Slices of Soul: A Collection of Contemporary Poetry
What Amazon says
Slices of Soul is a collection of contemporary poetry from author Harmony Kent that will both delight and call for deeper reflection. ‘Phantoms’ gives a gritty account of pain that you can never catch. ‘Enough’ expresses the contentment of Zen. ‘Diamonds’ shows the beauty to be found on a drab and rainy day. While ‘The Alchemist’ shows you how a guitar can turn lead into gold. This wonderful arrangement of fifty poems takes you from the abstract of Zen to the melody of music, and will reach into your mind, your heart, and your soul.
My review
Slices of Soul is a compelling and unusual collection of poetry which certainly does give the reader glimpses into the complex soul and unusual life of the poet.
I think it is important to note that the poet spent 13 years living in a Zen Buddhist Temple and that the poems featured in this book were written, during and after this period in her life. I believe that her spiritualism and surroundings had a bearing on the thoughts and ideas expressed through the poems in this book.
The poems are divided into sections: Shaved Head, written during her time at the Zen Buddhist Temple, Short Hair, written during the transitional period of her changing life circumstances, and Long Hair which effectively covers all the remaining sections in the book and were written after she’d adjusted to her new life.
I felt the tone of the poems changed over the course of the book from intense reflections on life, to studies of nature, to fierce expressions of emotion, to gentler articulations of love and contentment.
The two poems that impacted me the most in this collection are from the first two sections of the book, Shaved Hair and Short Hair:
The Path
The ten directions all merge into one
this winding road leads nowhere
and goes straight there
Lost and Found
Deep dark depths
I got lost on purpose
this desolate place
the only way
to get my bearings
Poetry lovers who like poems that make you think about things and see them differently will appreciate this book.
Purchase Slices of Soul
Amazon Author Page Harmony Kent
About Harmony Kent
Harmony Kent is an award winning multi-genre author. Her publications include:
The Battle for Brisingamen (Fantasy Fiction) AIA approved
The Glade (Mystery/Thriller) AIA Approved/BRAG Medallion Honouree/New Apple Literary Awards Official Selection Honours 2015
Polish Your Prose: Essential Editing Tips for Authors (Writing/Editing) New Apple Literary Awards Top Medallist Honours 2015
Finding Katie (Women’s Fiction)
Slices of Soul (Contemporary Poetry)
Interludes 1 & Interludes 2 (Erotic Short Stories)
Moments (Short Stories and Poetry)
Jewel in the Mud (Zen Musings)
Backstage (Erotic Romance)
FALLOUT (Apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic Dystopia) BRAG Medallion Honouree
The Vanished Boy (Psychological Thriller)
As well as being an avid reader and writer, Harmony also offers reviews and supports her fellow authors. Harmony works hard to promote and protect high standards within the publishing arena. She is always on the look out for talent and excellence, and will freely promote any authors or books who she feels have these attributes. Harmony lives in Cornwall, England.
twitter: @harmony_kent
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/HarmonyK
About Robbie Cheadle
Robbie Cheadle is a South African children’s author and poet with 9 children’s books and 1 poetry book.
The 7 Sir Chocolate children’s picture books, co-authored by Robbie and Michael Cheadle, are written in sweet, short rhymes which are easy for young children to follow and are illustrated with pictures of delicious cakes and cake decorations. Each book also includes simple recipes or biscuit art directions which children can make under adult supervision.
Robbie has also published 2 books for older children which incorporate recipes that are relevant to the storylines.
Robbie has 2 adult novels in the paranormal historical and supernatural fantasy genres published under the name Roberta Eaton Cheadle. She also has short stories in the horror and paranormal genre and poems included in several anthologies.
Robbie writes a monthly series for https://writingtoberead.com called Growing Bookworms. This series discusses different topics relating to the benefits of reading to children.
Robbie has a blog, https://robbiesinspiration.wordpress.com/ where she shares book reviews, recipes, author interviews, and poetry.
Find Robbie Cheadle
Blog: https://www.robbiecheadle.co.za/
Blog: robbiesinspiration.wordpress.com
Twitter: BakeandWrite
Instagram: Robbie Cheadle – Instagram
Facebook: Sir Chocolate Books
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September Blues
Posted: September 15, 2021 Filed under: Poetry | Tags: Grief. Poetry, Kaye Lynne Booth, Michael Daniel Lee Booth, Poetry, Writing to be Read 8 Comments
September is always a difficult time of year for me. My son, Michael, died in September, two weeks after his nineteenth birthday, so the entire month is filled with thoughts of him, making it not a very happy month for me. I think about the times we had, and the ones we didn’t get to have. I imagine the man he never had the chance to grow into. It has been twelve years since he’s been gone and I’d like to share a poem that I wrote to him back then, a poem that still holds true today. I still miss him so much.
Just One More Time
Just one more time to hug you close.
Just one more time to see your smile.
Just one more time to touch your face.
Just one more time to feel your style.
Just one more time to breathe the scent of your cologne,
Even though it always made me sneeze.
Just one more chance to beg you
To stay and never leave me, please.
Just one more time to hear your voice.
Just one more time to know you’re there.
Just one more time to share a song.
Just one more time to tousle your curly hair.
Just one more time to say, “I love you”
And look into your eyes.
Just one more chance to say how much you mean.
Just one chance to say good-bye.
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The Many Faces of Poetry – Poems In The Afterlife
Posted: September 10, 2021 Filed under: Poetry, The Many Faces of Poetry | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Poetry, The Many Faces of Poetry, Writing to be Read 2 CommentsEverything that happens to me is pure bonus because I took such risks with my life that I shouldn’t be here and be as well as I am. Poems are a way of giving back so much that has been bestowed upon me.
There is a flea that alights on me;
former citizen of dog land
it got lost and is attracted
to my hairy arms.
My first instinct is to crush it
but some fleas are crush resistant and
it is futile to try, so just brush
don’t crush and allow the flea
its tiny attempts at life. Some creatures
are matters of indifference to me
unless they irritate or distract
and that is the flea
whose brotherhood is apparently immortal.
The host, too, is immortal so
there is no way to be rid
of fleas.
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Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
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Welcome to the WordCrafter “After the Fires of Day” Book Blog Tour
Posted: September 6, 2021 Filed under: Blog Tour, book marketing, Book Promotion, Book Review, Books, Poetry | Tags: After the Fires of Day, Alphonse de Lamartine, Cendrine Marrouat, Haiku, Kahlil Gibran, Poetry, Poetry Collection, WordCrafter Book Blog Tours 10 Comments
To start off the WordCrafter After the Fires of Day Book Blog Tour, we’ve got an interview with poet and author Cendrine Marrouat and a review of her wonderful poetry collection and tribute to the inspiring poets, After the Fires of Day: Haiku Inspired by Kahlil Gibran & Alphonse de Lamartine. I hope you will all follow the tour this week and visit each of the tour stops to learn more about this inspired this inspired poet who is herself inspiring.
Cendrine Marrouat is a French-born Canadian photographer, poet, and the multi-genre author of more than 30 books. In 2019, she founded the PoArtMo Collective and co-founded Auroras & Blossoms with David Ellis. A year later, they launched PoArtMo (Positive Art Month and Positive Art Moves) and created the Kindku and Pareiku, two forms of poetry.
Cendrine is also the creator of the Sixku, the Flashku, and the Reminigram. Cendrine writes both in French and English and has worked in many different fields in her 17-year career, including translation, language instruction, journalism, art reviews, and social media.
My Interview with author and poet, Cendrine Marrouat
Kaye: What inspired you to create After the Fires of Day: Haiku Inspired by Kahlil Gibran & Alphonse de Lamartine?
Cendrine: My love for the haiku and my passion for the beautiful words of Kahlil Gibran and Alphonse de Lamartine.
I had always wanted to release something similar to After the Fires of Day. I had many ideas. However, a project like this, which pays homage to two literary giants, was tricky and required a thoughtful approach.
At the beginning of my career, I tried to emulate Gibran’s style—to no avail. But it was not a useless pursuit. It taught me important lessons about my own style and how to incorporate emotions in my work.
Emotions is actually the keyword here. In the late 2010s, I had this idea: An author always leaves a part of themselves, their “energy”, in their works. So why not “borrow” that and go from there?
It’s what I did for After the Fires of Day.
Kaye: Why do you think the haiku is such a powerful poetry form?
Cendrine: Many people limit the haiku to its syllable count. Words are treated like an afterthought, when they are actually the most important element of the poem. In North America, the haiku is misunderstood by the general public.
The haiku freezes a scene in time while implicitly revealing its author’s innermost feelings at that precise moment. It is an intimate, albeit complex form of poetry that speaks to the human experience in more ways than one.
To write a memorable haiku, you need to understand: the importance of conciseness and simple language; and how to leverage the seasonal reference (‘kigo’) and “cutting word” (‘kireji’) to evoke a specific mood.
Kaye: What made you choose Kahlil Gibran and Alphonse de Lamartine as sources of inspiration for After the Fires of Day? And for the people who have never read them, is there a specific book or piece of writing you would recommend?
Cendrine: I chose them because everything in their bodies of work inspires me. Their styles and the flow of their words tug at my creative heartstrings and make me want to write.
The Prophet is the best introduction to Gibran’s work. As far as Lamartine is concerned, you should start with his most famous poem, The Lake.
For the people interested in learning more about Gibran and Lamartine, they can visit my blog. I recently ran a mini-series of posts on each writer.
My Review
After the Fires of Day: Haiku Inspired by Kahlil Gibran and Alphonse de Lamartine is both a tribute of admiration to two wonderful poets and a collection of Haikus by Cendrine Marrouat, the expressions of her own unique voice and style of Haiku, in which their inspirations can be seen.
I was familiar with Kahlil Gibran’s work, but Alphonse de Lamartine was new to me. I am thankful to Cendrine Marrouat for the introduction to this poet. The poetic words of Marrouat’s beautiful Haikus bring me back to when I was introduced to the Haiku poetry, in the fourth grade. At that time, I felt that the sheer simplicity of the Haiku was lovely, although my fourth-grade mind didn’t yet understand that it was the ability of the words to capture and conjure a moment in nature so exquisitely that sent so much awe flowing through me.
I’ve included my favorite poem from this collection below. I think this Haiku speaks to me because my son, Michael, was born and died in September and since his death, September has always been a hard month for me to face. Marrouat’s Haiku allows me to look at the month of September with more positivity. The vivid imagery reminds me of what it is like to wait in anticipation of cooler days and fall colors.
Valley sits in gold,
Reflections in water
Welcome September.
While reading the Haiku poetry of Cendrine Marrouat, I couldn’t help but smile as her words summoned vivid images in my mind, which is exactly what a quality haiku should do. I give After the Fires of Day: Haiku Inspired by Kahlil Gibran and Alphonse de Lamartine five quills.
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Day 5 of the WordCrafter “Behind Closed Doors” Book Blog Tour
Posted: August 27, 2021 Filed under: Blog Tour, book marketing, Book Promotion, Book Review, Books, Guest Post, Poetry, Review, WordCrafter Book Blog Tours | Tags: Behind Closed Doors, Poetry, Poetry Collection, Robbie Cheadle, WordCrafter Book Blog Tours Leave a comment
We’re wrapping up the WordCrafter Behind Closed Doors Book Blog Tour over at Zigler’s News with a guest post by poet and author Robbie Cheadle and a review by Victoria Zigler. Please join us to learn a bit more about the author and her book.
http://ziglernews.blogspot.com/2021/08/behind-closed-doors-collection-of.html
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The Many Faces of Poetry – Rust/Untitled/Image
Posted: August 27, 2021 Filed under: Poetry, The Many Faces of Poetry | Tags: Poetry, The Many Faces of Poetry, Writing to be Read 2 CommentsSometimes I think I’m finished, that the last word has been written, the last kiss has been kissed. Then I tell myself
“Don’t be ridiculous!”. I’m here until I’m not here. Then I’ll be somewhere else, I’m sure of it.
These are recent poems, so recent they’re not even written, or half written.
Rust
How can the world be killed?
Melt the ice caps;
Beauties that we’ve known and loved
will die.
Polar bears will swim to exhaustion,
their cubs will starve.
A beautiful creature is dying,
but is the world dead?
Poach ivory from elephants until
there are no more elephants.
A great and profound beauty is dying.
I feel its death throes in my body, but still
the world can’t die.
There is no end to the world. Perhaps
when a small piece of our planet is murdered,
it diminishes those of us who live in this time,
for we are accomplice to the crime.
I don’t see myself as a world killer.
I see myself as a world maker.
But I can’t stop the tides that are rising,
the beaches that are drowning,
the storms that are raging.
We killed our world for comfort. I did.
You did. I bought into the con
until I saw the contempt in the con.
When I saw the con, I stomped on it like a poisoned artifact.
Earth killer! Murderer! Earth hater!
Is the world dead? It can’t be.
The desolate tide flats where bones show in the mud,
where mangled soldiers lie, where steel and gunpowder
show their leavings. That’s what I see, but that isn’t all
there is to see. Earth still lives.
Untitled
Aug 18 2021
There’s a part of my heart that I’ve never given
because it didn’t exist
until now.
It lives because of you, it was called forth
from my soul’s interior,
a place that yearns to be rid
of the burden of unloved Love.
It is the love that is shaped like you
a burnt silhouette
outlined by my vision
of your love for me.
I want my love for you
to be full like the orange moon
behind smoky clouds
to be full like a dark sky of stars
to be full like only a starving spirit
can ever know to be full.
Image
August 19 2021
Image: woman weeps over body of loved one.
On her knees, she rocks back and forth, hands clasped
The film is silent, black and white
but I can hear
grief, agony of heart and flesh.
Image: child running down a road in terror
fleeing the bombs, the thunder and flames running.
Image: men holding onto the fence
of their prison, drained of life and hope.
Image: mass graves filling as soldiers
toss bodies, casual
as farmers disposing of chaff.
Image: as camps are liberated
prisoners barely able to walk
to their freedom.
Image: filmed from bombers, napalm cannisters
topple end over end
incinerating jungle canopy and all beneath.
Image: B17 over Germany loses its wing
tumbling. No parachutes.
Image: There is nothing
I’ve seen the images
thousands of times
I rock in my chair before the screen
Image image image image
My eyes have become two people
each one has a mind
Their minds are pasted in surrounding spheres
of image.
I choose to sit here
and partake of the images
I choose, I’m just a modern person
I live my life on the ordinary street
safe for now from everything
but image.
before everyone knew
Image would wrap the world
Engulf and change our history,
turn it from experience into Image,
leaving us to feel
just a bit hollow
even though we are filled beyond satiation
with Image..
Writing to be Read 