The Many Faces of Poetry: November Poems

The Many Faces of Poetry

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

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Want to be sure not to miss any of Arthur’s “The Many Faces of Poetry” segments? Subscribe to Writing to be Read for e-mail notifications whenever new content is posted or follow WtbR on WordPress. If you find it interesting or just entertaining, please share.


The Many Faces of Poetry: More Poetry From 21 Jumping Off Street

The Many Faces of Poetry

Fleas

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

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Want to be sure not to miss any of Arthur’s “The Many Faces of Poetry” segments? Subscribe to Writing to be Read for e-mail notifications whenever new content is posted or follow WtbR on WordPress. If you find it interesting or just entertaining, please share.


Treasuring Poetry – Meet poet Lynda McKinney Lambert and a review

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.  

Photo_ “Evening Vespers,” Talisman
Photo_ I Only Have Eyes For You”  is an award-winning  Talisman.

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.

Lynda – Photo from  August 27,   2021, with a bouquet of flowers she received for her 78th birthday.

 

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

Smorgasbord Cafe and Bookstore – Meet the Authors – #Thriller Daniel Kemp, #Poetry Lynda McKinney Lambert, #YAFantasy Jean Lee | Smorgasbord Blog Magazine (wordpress.com)

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]

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

IMG_9902

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

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Want to be sure not to miss any of Robbie’s “Growing Bookworms” segments? Subscribe to Writing to be Read for e-mail notifications whenever new content is posted or follow WtbR on WordPress. If you found it interesting or entertaining, please share.


The Many Faces of Poetry: Poems Never End

The Many Faces of Poetry

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

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Want to be sure not to miss any of Arthur’s “The Many Faces of Poetry” segments? Subscribe to Writing to be Read for e-mail notifications whenever new content is posted or follow WtbR on WordPress. If you find it interesting or just entertaining, please share.


Treasuring Poetry – Meet poet and author Harmony Kent and my review

Today, 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 US

Amazon Author Page Harmony Kent

About Harmony Kent

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

harmonykent@gmx.com

About Robbie Cheadle

IMG_9902

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

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Want to be sure not to miss any of Robbie’s “Treasuring Poetry” segments? Subscribe to Writing to be Read for e-mail notifications whenever new content is posted or follow WtbR on WordPress.


September Blues

Michael Daniel Lee Booth

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.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Like this post? Let me know in the comments. You can be sure not to miss any of Writing to be Read’s great content by subscribing to e-mail or following on WordPress. If you found this content helpful or entertaining, please share.


The Many Faces of Poetry – Poems In The Afterlife

The Many Faces of Poetry

Everything 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.

___________________________________________________________________________________

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

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Want to be sure not to miss any of Arthur’s “The Many Faces of Poetry” segments? Subscribe to Writing to be Read for e-mail notifications whenever new content is posted or follow WtbR on WordPress. If you find it interesting or just entertaining, please share.


Welcome to the WordCrafter “After the Fires of Day” Book Blog Tour

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.

Book your WordCrafter Book Blog Tour today!


Day 5 of the WordCrafter “Behind Closed Doors” Book Blog Tour

Behind Closed Doors Book Blog Tour

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

______________________________________________________________________________________

Book your WordCrafter Book Blog Tour today!


The Many Faces of Poetry – Rust/Untitled/Image

Sometimes 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..