A Look at Poetry Reviews from the Past Year: Ever So Gently

Book Cover: Blue/Green abstract background
Text: Lauren Scott, Ever So Gently, A Collection of Poems

It celebration of National Poetry Month, I’m reblogging my poetry reviews from the past year on Saturdays throughout April in case you missed any of these noteworthy poetry collections.

Today’s selection is Ever So Gently, by Lauren Scott


WordCrafter Press Celebrates National Poetry Month

Celebrating National Poetry Month with a Great Price

During the month of April, all poetry volumes on the WordCrafter Press backlist are on sale for only $2.99 each. That’s right. Any poetry volume on the WordCrafter Press backlist can be purchased for this great low price all month long. So, check out the list below and add these great poetic volumes to your library of poetry today.

WordCrafter Press Poetry Backlist

:)_____________________________________:)


Book Review: Cashing Checks with Jim Morrison

Box of Books Text: Book Reviews

About the Book

CASHING CHECKS with Jim Morrison offers a surreal cascade of archetypes from, among others, ancient Greece, the Bible, American Literature, and pop culture. Moving through it is the speaker’s companion spirit and guru, Jim Morrison-Lizard King, Narcissus/Adonis. Set in a world where, in Albert Einstein’s words, ‘reality is merely an illusion, ‘ Lindsey Martin-Bowen’s poems are alive with wit, evocative imagery, insight, and sometimes downright playfulness. Through heeding Morrison’s counsel to ‘go weirder, ‘ she’s made this collection reader-friendly.”-William Trowbridge, Missouri Poet Laureate, 2012-2016 Author, Call Me Fool (2022)
“In Lindsey Martin-Bowen’s CASHING CHECKS with Jim Morrison, I relish every word, compelled by the poet’s stories and singing voice. Fantasy and fact merge in these invocations of the seminal American rocker Morrison and of his spirit. Join me as a reader in exploring this exciting testament to the power of language to resurrect history and wonder.”-Denise Low, Kansas Poet Laureate, 2007-2009 Poetry Unbound Featured Poet

My Review

I was thrilled to receive a print copy of Cashing Checks with Jim Morrison, by Lindsay Martin-Bowen. The title alone, was enough to peak my interest, and lend anticipation as to what I could expect within its covers.

This collection of poems is all about hanging out, and philosphizing with the spirit of the late, great, Jim Morrison. I was amazed by the way the author captured the voice of Morrison in many of the poems, enough to let me believe briefly that maybe the author truly does converse with the dead musician. Included are poems that serve as social commentaries on life and love, on the state of the world today, and on possible futures; topics which every one of us can relate to.

So many of these poems struck a chord with me that it is impossible to pick one favorite. but I really loved the imagry in “Coming Back to Me”.

The dawn inhales and holds its breath, drawing

wisps of clouds up the foothills, where theyb hover.

Jim steps out of the mist, unsteady as some soldier

searching for his platoon on a surreal battlefield.

He wedges boot heels into fissures be3tween rock

ledges, ambles down to where gravel meets asphalt.

Then he steps onto the road leading to my Dutch

Colonel on a corner in this mountain college town,

where I chose to spend many of my remaining days,

watching parades of seasons pass in the hills’

keleidescope of colors revolving — in fall, scarlet,

gold, and bronze. In winter, cobalt blue and white.

Spring brings a rushed array — one week yellow,

the next red, then purple, and green never leaves

till late August, just before the aspen twitter

with orange and gold coins glittering in sunlight.

I don’t see a move to Kansas or any spot east, wonder

if Jim and I will land in Venice, his California beach.

He raises a hand and yells, ‘lo,’ his voice echoing

down the street, falling at my knees, now trembling.

When he heads my way, I smell his Jade East, see

his hazy body morph into solid physique, black

leather pants, jacket, and sandaled feet. He lifts his chin,

shakes his curls, then lowers his face and stares at me.

Still trembling, I remember our jaunts on a motorcycle

and a persnickety jeep — wonder if I’ll ever be free again

or if I’ll ride highways like some banshee for eternity.

And I also enjoyed the section of Tanka strings, always the sucker for syllabic poetry. Most have five Tankas, but “Jim Morrison and I Lose Our Way on a Moon Dog Night” isonly two, and short enough to share with you here.

The drive home’s always

this way — too long, when sudden

changes shakes us up.

After a few warm, sunny

days, cold winds hit us again.

Tonight, an odd haze

encircles the moon like white

light in an X-ray

outlining a frail hip bone

fallen into necrosis.

An unusual collection of poetry through which to view the world through different eyes; perhaps through the eyes of Jim Morrison. I thoroughly enjoyed Cashing Checks with Jim Morrison, and I give it five quills.

Five circles with WordCrafter quill logo in each one.

______________________________________

Kaye Lynne Booth does honest book reviews on Writing to be Read in exchange for ARCs. Have a book you’d like reviewed? You can request a review on the Book Review tab above.


Treasuring Poetry – Poet and editor of MasticadoresUSA, Barbara Harris Leonhard, talks about poetry and a review #poetrycommunity #bookreview

A huge welcome to Barbara Harris Leonard, editor of MasticardoresUSA, and talented poet, to Treasuring Poetry.

What is your favourite style of poetry to read i.e. haiku, ballad, epic, freestyle, etc?

I’ve studied different poetic forms but generally read freestyle poetry, especially Anne Sexton, Sylvia Plath, Elizabeth Bishop, and so many more. I also enjoy the more formal classic poetry and other modern poets like Frost, Sandburg, and others. A favorite poet of mine is Emily Dickinson. I’ve written poems in the manner of Dickinson. Overall, however, the majority of poems I have read and written have been free verse.

What is your favourite poem in your favourite style to read?

The first poem that comes to mind is Elizabeth Bishop’s poem “The Fish”. Here it is from poets.org. The description is exquisite, and the story is powerful. She catches a prize fish, admires him, and finds that the fish has been caught five prior times. After examining his wounds—the old hooks and broken fish-lines scabbed over in his mouth—she releases the fish. The imagery throughout the poem is stunning. The old fish is embattled and exhausted, not even resisting the catch. He represents something ancient and universal. He is more than a fish; he is history (“beard of wisdom”) and war as she describes his “weaponlike” lower lip and cutting gills. “The Fish” is a poem written with the skill I strive to have as a poet.

https://poets.org/poem/fish-2

Elizabeth Bishop

1911 –1979

I caught a tremendous fish
and held him beside the boat
half out of water, with my hook
fast in a corner of his mouth.
He didn’t fight.
He hadn’t fought at all.
He hung a grunting weight,
battered and venerable
and homely. Here and there
his brown skin hung in strips
like ancient wallpaper,
and its pattern of darker brown
was like wallpaper:
shapes like full-blown roses
stained and lost through age.
He was speckled with barnacles,
fine rosettes of lime,
and infested
with tiny white sea-lice,
and underneath two or three
rags of green weed hung down.
While his gills were breathing in
the terrible oxygen
—the frightening gills,
fresh and crisp with blood,
that can cut so badly—
I thought of the coarse white flesh
packed in like feathers,
the big bones and the little bones,
the dramatic reds and blacks
of his shiny entrails,
and the pink swim-bladder
like a big peony.
I looked into his eyes
which were far larger than mine
but shallower, and yellowed,
the irises backed and packed
with tarnished tinfoil
seen through the lenses
of old scratched isinglass.
They shifted a little, but not
to return my stare.
—It was more like the tipping
of an object toward the light.
I admired his sullen face,
the mechanism of his jaw,
and then I saw
that from his lower lip
—if you could call it a lip—
grim, wet, and weaponlike,
hung five old pieces of fish-line,
or four and a wire leader
with the swivel still attached,
with all their five big hooks
grown firmly in his mouth.
A green line, frayed at the end
where he broke it, two heavier lines,
and a fine black thread
still crimped from the strain and snap
when it broke and he got away.
Like medals with their ribbons
frayed and wavering,
a five-haired beard of wisdom
trailing from his aching jaw.
I stared and stared
and victory filled up
the little rented boat,
from the pool of bilge
where oil had spread a rainbow
around the rusted engine
to the bailer rusted orange,
the sun-cracked thwarts,
the oarlocks on their strings,
the gunnels—until everything
was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!
And I let the fish go.

Copyright © 2011 by Elizabeth Bishop. Reprinted from Poems with the permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

What is your favourite style of poetry to write? Why? 

I like free style poetry, mainly narrative and persona poems. Sometimes poetic forms feel restrictive because mastering the form becomes more important than the message of the poem. However, I feel practicing  with forms enables a poet to mature in many ways. As I’m writing free style, I use many poetic devices, such as alliteration, slant rhyme, assonance, meter, and others. With free style, for me, some challenges include where to place the line breaks and group the imagery into stanzas. How the poem is organized can affect the meaning. I like the potential for ambiguity in free verse poems. 

In “The Fish”, the last three lines are ambiguous. What does “rainbow” refer to? Epiphany? Was the fish a Rainbow trout? Maybe both interpretations apply. But the em dash is important. It interrupts the description of the fish to state an insight “—until everything”. The line break allows the reader to recall everything that was just said and speculate on more things. The repetition of “rainbow” three times insists there is insight. Pay attention. Rainbows are multi-colored, much like the fish. Rainbows presents diversity, inclusivity, and friendship. It’s no wonder she freed the fish.

the gunnels—until everything
was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!
And I let the fish go.

Formal poetry can also have ambiguity and surprise. It’s just that I feel I have more freedom to play with the lines and stanzas in free verse poems.

What is your favourite of your own poems in your favourite style?

In my book Three-Penny Memories: A Poetic Memoir, my poems are free style. I have several favorites, but “Marie Kondo Cleans My Purse at Starbucks” received recognition from Spillwords Press. It won Publication of the Month in Jan/Feb 2022. In this poem, I am carrying the grief from Mom’s decline due to Alzheimer’s and her death. I am burdened by the memories. Marie Kondo, who is famous for her books on how to declutter your house, offers to help clean my purse (let go of that which no longer serves me). As this poem is about healing from loss, it is in the last section of my book, “Echo”.

Marie Kondo Cleans My Purse at Starbucks

Konmari sees me at Starbucks, 

my purse spilling over at the counter.

“May I help?”

She gathers me up

like I’m antique lace 

washed too many times.

Before she begins, she whispers,

“Hello, the House,

I am safe. May I enter?”

She pokes through my purse, 

pulling out the deck of cards 

Mom once carried in her own purse. 

A heavy bag of Mom’s pennies 

to redeem for cash.

Her checkbook.

The messy old calendar

that listed her appointments

alongside my own.

The quilt she made me, 

now falling apart. A cookbook

compiled in her own hand.

Konmari extracts other artifacts,

laying them gently on lined up tables.

People gather. My eyes bleed.

The extra-large pair of panties

Mom made me wear to Sunday school.

The wash, still not done.

A half-used bottle of Diethylstilbestrol, 

she was prescribed to prevent spotting 

when I was in vitro.

The tricycle she rode 

around town at age three 

because her mother never watched her.

My cancer scares, scattered 

on the bottom of the purse 

like cookie crumbs.

The scabs inflicted 

by her compression stockings

I failed to wash one last time.

The clump of tissue 

I miscarried, swaddled 

in an inner pocket.

Her hysterectomy scar.

My hysterectomy scar.

Entwined on a spool.

My t-shaped uterus, 

clenching a half-used packet 

of Puffs Plus.

A dogeared photo of Mom.

A mirror reflecting 

who I want to be.

Konmari has me 

hold each item 

one last time, saying,

“Thank you, tiny soul, 

for sharing your life. I am

grateful.”

She teaches me 

how to fold joy 

three times.

How to throw out

what I can 

no longer carry.

One strategy I appreciate about poetry, whether is is formal or free style, is the use of metaphor. In Bishops’s poem “The Fish”, the fish represents our history and ancient wisdom. Like the fish, we have all fought off death physically or spiritually. We are warriors who build muscle and bear wounds from our life battles. The fish holds our stories, and Bishop is masterful as she extends the metaphor to a universal level.

In my poem, I used the purse as a metaphor of my soul. In the book, Mom’s purse appears in several poems because her purse held her memories: her driver’s license (identity), her checkbook (finances), her comb (beauty), photos (family) and so on. Because I had to become Mom’s brain and hold her business along with mine, the purse took on significance as a brain, or a place to hold her life alongside my own. Grief work, for me, was a process of emptying the purse of all the attachments that no longer served me. And who could help declutter better than Marie Kondo? And revealing your wounds can be embarrassing, so why not do that at Starbucks? This choice gives a dream-like quality to the poem. It is surreal to carry your mother’s tricycle in your purse! Imagine all the nightmares of suddenly appearing naked on the first day of school or other important places. All my baggage is laid out on tables for everyone to see as though viewing a dead body. It’s no wonder “my eyes bleed”.

How do you promote your poetry and poetry books?

Connections sell books, so I’ve increased my online presence (Twitter/X, Mastodon, Linked-in, Instagram, Facebook, Threads, etc). I advertise my publications on social media. My position as Editor for MasticadoresUSA enables me to promote writers and get exposure. I also do interviews and readings online as well as readings, author showcases, and open mics in my hometown, Columbia, Missouri, and now other places in Missouri. I’ve gifted books to libraries. This past summer, 2023, Three-Penny Memories: A Poetic Memoir was chosen among other books for the summer reading program at our local library. My book sells on Amazon and is distributed everywhere, but I have also put it in independent bookstores in my hometown and in St. Louis, Missouri. I continue to publish poems mainly. I’ve started an account on Medium and am republishing poems there when the copyrights revert back to me. I sponsor Zoom poetry meetups and Zoom poetry critique sessions for the Columbia Writers Guild, a Chapter of the Missouri Writers Guild (https://ccmwg.org/ ) and The Garden of Neuro Institute (https://gardenofneuro.com/). I’ve developed relationships with other poets and have reviewed their books. I publish the reviews on MasticadoresUSA, my blog extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog, and Medium.

Thank you, Barbara, for being a wonderful guest.

My review of Three-Penny Memories: A Poetic Memoir by Barbara Harris Leonhard

Book Cover: A collage of author photos on a background of evergreen branches with red flowers.
Text: Three-Penny Memories, A Poetic Memoir, Barbara Harris Leonhard

This collection of poems is a deep dive into the love between a mother and daughter. The collection takes the reader on a journey of the poet’s life and the development of the relationship with her mother. She covers her own life threatening illness and the subsequent incapacity and recovery process, as well as her later discovery of the poet’s inability to carry a child to term due to her mother’s ingestion of Diethylstilbestrol (DES) during her own pregnancy. How ironic that the poet’s mother took this drug to ensure the health of her own pregnancy and it resulted in childlessness for her own daughter. Life is full of bitter irony.

Throughout all the trials and tribulations of her life, the poet’s love for her mother burns like a flame, as does her mother’s love for her. And then came Alzheimer’s, the destroyer. The part of the book and the poet’s internal conflict and wrestle with her own feelings was close to my heart. Dementia and Alzheimer’s change people, turns them into someone you don’t know. Someone who doesn’t know you, someone who endlessly demands, complains, and makes bitter comments. In between, there are moments of normalcy and during those times, love returns in a rush, along with accompanying guilt for the conflicting emotions of the bad times.

This book captures the ebb and flow of human love and emotion exactly. It does not examine it, rather it describes and defines it.

A few stanzas from poems that stood out for me:

“One day says – out of nowhere –
shattering words out of her scattered mind
“You’re still childless? Don’t know why!
I dropped seven!”
From Mom’s DES Baby: The Hardest Pill to Swallow

“Mom, flat and detached
My fear. That she’s gone.
Now for good.”
From Fool’s Gold

“How will she manage
the mysterious passage?
This woman with no memories,

no way to find the path,
recall a friend, her mother,
recognise the welcoming

Angel of Death?”
From Departing from Gate 3

The collection is incredibly revealing and emotional, and exceptional read.

Purchase Three-Penny Memories: A Poetic Memoir by Barbara Harris Leonhard from Amazon US here: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0BH99FS2T

About Barbara Harris Leonhard

I’m a retired Instructor of English as a Second Language. Although I have been writing since I was age 8, after retiring in 2017, I have had more time to devote to writing. My WordPress site is extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog. My work appears in online and print literary magazines, journals, and anthologies, and my poetry has won awards and recognition. My debut poetry collection, Three-Penny Memories: A Poetic Memoir (EIF (Experiments in Fiction, 2022), which is about my relationship with my mother, who suffered from Alzheimer’s, achieved best-seller status on Amazon. Also, on Spillwords, I was voted Author of the Month of October 2021, nominated Author of the Year for 2021, and recognized as a Spillwords Socialite of the Year in 2021. I enjoy bringing writers together and have been sponsoring open mics on Zoom. I live in the Midwest of the United States with my husband, Dierik, and our cat, Jasper. Dierik and I enjoy long drives to the wetlands to count the deer.

You can find out more about poet, Barbara Harris Leonhard, on her blog here: https://extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog/about/

About Robbie Cheadle

Photo of Robbie Cheadle standing in front of trees.

Award-winning, bestselling author, Robbie Cheadle, has published fourteen children’s books and two poetry books. Her work also features in several poetry and short story anthologies.

Robbie also has two novels published under the name of Roberta Eaton Cheadle and has horror, paranormal, and fantasy short stories featured in several anthologies under this name.

The eleven 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 and Michael Cheadle have recently launched a new series of children’s books called Southern African Safari Adventures. The first book, Neema the Misfit Giraffe is now available from Amazon.

Robbie’s blog includes recipes, fondant and cake artwork, poetry, and book reviews. https://robbiesinspiration.wordpress.com/


Book Review: In the Shadow of Rainbows

Box of Books Text: Book Reviews

About the Book

In this dazzling debut poetry collection of over 60 carefully selected poems, author Selma Martin points the way to the beauty in the everyday, the shadow of the rainbow, and the silver lining at the edge of every cloud.

Favouring lyrical forms, and revelling in rhymes and musical language, the individual poems in this collection harmonise together in symphonic splendour to form an enlightening and delightful whole.

Purchase Link: https://www.amazon.com/Shadow-Rainbows-Collection-Songs-Presence-ebook/dp/B0CB5PLMB6/

My Review

I’m happy to be able to begin 2024 with the review of Selma Martin’s debut poetry collection, In The Shadow of Rainbows. Many of the poems in this special collection have a lyrical feel to them from the poet’s unique style, finding ways to celebrate life and the wonderful things found when you least expect them, lying hidden in the shadows. I received an ARC copy from the author in exchange for an honest review.

I see poems as personal reflections on love, life and nature. They express the unique way that each poet sees the world, and shares them, opening doors for others to view the world in a different way. Poetry can express some amazing things, and make its readers think of things in ways they’ve never before considered. Selma Martin has done just that, opening doors to reveal the hidden world which jumps out and surprises us from the shadows of rainbows.

I truly enjoyed reading through this collection, often going back and rereading poems which resonated with me personally. It is often amazing to view the world through someone else’s eyes, revealing what we might not otherwise see, and this journey offered in Martin’s collection is a truly wonderous one. This delightful collection of lilting, lyrical poetry offers special appreciation for life, love and the world around us.

As with most poetry reviews, the best way to describe the poet’s unique style and perspective is to share some of my favorite selections for my readers to judge for themselves. Because, after all, the poetry speaks for itself better than anything I could say to describe it.

(Martin’s form doesn’t transfer well on WordPress, so I hope I didn’t butcher them too badly.)

Slice of Life

Flanked between two warnings, I live you, planting the light hours with loving acts, for you, for us, for our menage,

and when I meet dusk, filled,

ready for our mingling at the table, where we swap slices of lived moments of the same day, hearts swell replete.

The Lore

Azure and unperturbed is the sky until a little

cloud perches high above me near sunset

I quit my book

glad Cloud stopped for me.

We stare at each other long, me, blanking out toils and troubles, Cloud turning orange and peach until she mauves herself,

Melding with Sky, and follows it.

When I can discern her no more I walk away from my tent-down to the small river that gurgles. I watch it gain speed, and as it snakes into the noble Pacific

I hear her babble me a goodbye.

A salacious wind blows warm air behind my ear but soon disowns me, a moth brushes on my temple and is gone much too soon.

Everyone’s on the move except me- I don’t mind, I have the chant of the river, the bustling of bugs,

puddles of moonlight, silhouetting the beauteous forms of things and best of all, and best of all the seven daughters of Atlas

clustered over me.

What else do I need?

For an Hour

when a colorless day let’s slip a rare irreproachable hour

take it and indulge it for a while sit with it, let it swallow you while

or paint it with shades alluring, dye each section with thoughts of hope

paint your steps from here to the seashore pigment the waves to humor the sun

taint the sun-no wait-don’t paint the sun we need Helios to stay as is

winnow the bulrush color-washed clouds that camouflage Mt. Fuji

and the hawk-just let the hawk be duly, a day will never beam

without bringing you recall

of the sea, laughing with you for an hour

A wonderful way to begin the new year with a lovely collection of poetry. I give In The Shadow of Rainbows five quills.

Five circles with WordCrafter quill logo in each one.

_________________________________________________

Kaye Lynne Booth does honest book reviews on Writing to be Read in exchange for ARCs. Have a book you’d like reviewed? You can request a review here.


WordCrafter Holiday Extravaganza Sale

The WordCrafter Sale of the Year

Did you know that WordCrafter is having a Holiday Extravaganza Sale that includes every book in the entire WordCrafter Press backlist?

That’s right.

And books make great holiday gifts. Treat someone you know or treat yourself this holiday season.

December 1 – 22 every book in the WordCrafter Press back list is at a discounted price. Check it out.

Writing References

Book Cover: Large question marks, an ink well and colorful quill
Text: Ask The Authors, A WordCrafter Writing Reference Anthology, Compiled and Edited by Kaye Lynne Boothj

Ask The Authors – Only .99 cents

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Book Cover: Large question marks, an ink well and a colorful quill
Text: Ask The Authors 2022, A WordCrafter Writing Reference Anthology, Compiled and Edited by KAye Lynne Booth

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Treasuring Poetry Special Remembrance Month Edition: Poet, Frank Prem, discusses his war poetry #poetrycommunity #warpoetry #TreasuringPoetry

Today, I am delighted to welcome prolific and masterful poet, Frank Prem, back to Treasuring Poetry. Frank writes incredibly relatable poetry that covers a wide variety of topics relevant to modern life including the bush fires that raged in Australia a few years ago, Devil in the Wind, working as a psychiatric nurse in an institution, The New Asylum: A Memoir of Psychiatry, as well as collections about war. I have read Frank’s beautiful and moving collections about World War 1, Sheep on the Somme, and the war in the Ukraine, From Volyn to Kherson: Interpretations of the War in Ukraine. Frank also writes romantic poetry, interpretive modern poetry and verse books for children. In the nicest way, nothing is safe from Frank’s poetic pen.

Tell us a bit about your war poetry collections

I developed an interest in the First World War many years ago and was particularly interested in the stories of Australian soldiers and their seeming need to volunteer to fight half a world away on the basis of loyalty to the British Empire and the Mother Country that was England, but also on the basis of a kind of chivalric principle. A moral fever that swept the nation.

I came across books that were written in the more modern historical style of telling stories to illustrate events – using the example of an identified soldier, from an identified town, with family details and background, then tracing their movements into the war and its various theatres and actions.

I found I was able to understand these individuals a little better and to empathise with them and their loved ones a little more than I otherwise could.

I also found myself interested in using images for my own poetic inspiration and that led me to the images held by Australia’s War Memorial. There was one image in particular that started me looking at pictures taken during the war. The image was of a white cross in a field of muddy and bloody craters. The cross marked the grave of Captain Ivor Margetts, much loved and respected by the men he led in battle. By the following day the cross and the grave were gone. They’d been blown to hell by the shelling.

I was tremendously moved by this, and as I searched for a version of that particular image online, I encountered many more, each with a poignant story to tell and many were destined to feature in my book Sheep On The Somme (https://www.amazon.com.au/Sheep-Somme-World-Picture-Poetry/dp/1925963144 ).

More recently, I found myself watching the sabre rattling over the Ukraine that was being perpetrated by Russia and was reminded very clearly of reading I’d done long ago about the beginnings of the Spanish Civil War back in the late 1930s and of the rise of Right-Wing Fascism in Europe during that same period of the 1930s. I was struck by the similarities and the ways in which those events and movements evolved into what became World War II. It was – and remains – quite concerning to see these way events continue to unfold.

As the news and pictures of Russia’s military build-up on the Ukraine border kept emerging, along with the seeming inability on the part of Ukraine to do anything to stop it, I watched events more and more closely.

When Ukraine’s borders were finally breached, there were more photographers and journalists on the spot than has ever been the case previously in a conflict. We were flooded with formal and informal news and masses of un-curated and un-censored images.

During the first nine weeks of the conflict I became engrossed in reading the news and studying the images. And – of course – I began to write.

I produced 3 volumes of poetry interpreting the Ukraine war – two of them will not be released because they used images taken by journalists in the field and I don’t have rights to use those images. The volumes (Bullets Into The Starichi Sky and I Call The Hole The War) sit on my private bookshelf here in my writing studio.

The third volume – From Volyn to Kherson – is a collection of poems in which I have attempted to use such talent for empathy as I possess to interpret the news stories I was reading in a way that enabled any of my own readers to get a sense of what the invasion and the conflict was like as an experience for the everyday people of Ukraine. What if it happened here, in my town? What would it be like to have seventy kilometres of armoured assault vehicles coming to surround and destroy my home town? Or yours?

I like readers to know where the inspiration for these writings has come from and so each individual poem is referenced and has a link to the online sources that I relied on in my writing. After nine weeks I was a little burnt out and had to stop writing, but I follow events over there diligently and worry about what I see happening in the wider world and which still so resembles the events of the 1930s.

What draws you to writing about wars?

I’ve encroached a little on this question with my answer above, I think, but I’ll try to elaborate a little more.

In my professional life I was a psychiatric nurse. Back (so many years ago) when I was a student nurse one of the areas of interaction with patients that was taught and stressed was empathy.

As I understood it, empathy was the ability to walk in another person’s shoes. To see things from the perspective of the other person, but not to necessarily sympathise, or accept, merely to understand in order to be able to reflect that understanding back to the patient.

The patients that came my way in psychiatry were invariably involved in and generally overwhelmed by personal chaos. This might have been due to illness, or it might have been due their life being in a mess they could not resolve. They might have been psychotic, depressed, suicidal, or experiencing any number of out-of-control situations.

That tool of empathy has stayed with me, I think, and now reveals itself in my writing. The experience of chaos by a person finds itself being reflected back in my writings.

I think it is in this way that I am attracted to attempt to unravel what a person may be feeling or experiencing in a war zone. Similarly, I find myself writing a lot about the human toll of natural disasters that come close to me or to my little place in the world.

I have always tried to develop my understanding of these things by writing my way through them. To help myself and any subsequent reader to understand by feeling what is happening through my words.

Tell us a bit about how you use photographs and newspaper articles to assist with writing your war poems

With newspaper articles, I try to extract the meat of the story. That part of the article that is the actual purpose – the reason that it is a story in the first place.

Often enough, there is human interest in the genesis of the article. I then allow the information to assemble itself in a way that I can present it to a reader. For example

What is grandmother doing in the kitchen? Is she cooking Sunday lunch? No. She is cooking Molotov cocktails for others to throw at invading vehicles. And . . . wouldn’t you or I, each do the same if this was happening in our back yard?

With an image, I anticipate that it will have a story to tell. I try not to impose myself and my own current thoughts or fears or desires on it, but to allow the story to be whatever comes.

For example, a golden paper daisy with a bright glow might well have a story to tell that reflects light, and the sun. But equally, it might be a harbinger – a prophet of some kind that draws attention to itself in order to be heard. I don’t know in advance what the story will be, but I try to keep myself out of its road and not to shape the narrative too much.

I have come to know, also, that each image will have a different story to tell to each viewer, so to the extent that I can, I try to facilitate a receptive space for that to occur through what I end up writing. I’ll give an example of how I find a story in a tiny image taken during wartime over a hundred years ago.

The image above is the view from inside a German army dugout in World War I – around 1916. It is from within this space that a small group of individuals fought their war.

When I look at this image, I notice a few things and I feel a few things. In no particular order:

  • From pitch darkness up into light. A very small doorway.
  • Claustrophobia.
  • Fear.
  • The smell of habitation. Bodily odours – where would the latrine have been?
  • The knowledge of death and destruction and battle rage just outside
  • Movement of the ground as shells fall outside. Perhaps close.
  • Maybe the sound of enemy troops approaching the bunker to destroy it.
  • What of family. Has this soldier (have I) written them a note to say goodbye?

I don’t have a personal experience of war, but I know what fear feels like. I know claustrophobia and the smells of my own body . . . and so on. I can draw on these to understand a little of what the soldier in the dugout might have felt.

The willingness to engage with these elements that come from the image allow me to engage my empathy and to allow a story – which the image itself contains – to be told.

What is your own favourite war poem?

I think that my personal favourite of my own written war poems is one that hasn’t featured in a book to date, but was written to be read for a spoken-word poetry slam 2 years ago. The criteria were that it needed to be 2 minutes reading time or less and to include the term ‘full circle’.

The poem told stories in word pictures and referenced images, without actually including them, if that makes sense. I have since recorded it for my YouTube channel and included there the images that the poem references, spanning both World War I and the current Ukraine war.

The link to the poem on YouTube is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JI3vRaTg0tI .

The text of the poem is below:

THE TRUTH OF TIME

(AS TOLD BY THE PICTURES)

picture 1

a group

of soldiers

are hanging out

of the doors

and windows

of a moving train

leaving Egypt

heading

to the western front

ready

for a stoush

a bit

of a barney

it’s time

to come to grips

with the enemy

and they’re cherry ripe

for a

blue

picture 2

dimitriy

is holding olga –

tightly –
on the platform

a blue train

is nearly ready to leave

she’ll go

to poland

across the border

dimitriy

will join his friends

in the territorials

a week

to practice

how to hold a rifle

and to learn

first aid

then away

he must forget

to be an accountant

he’s

a front-line fighter

now

picture 3

a heap of rubble –

bricks

and half-bricks

timber and concrete

and dust –

lies as a mound

among mounds

it is

a streetscape

an avenue

of homes

destroyed by artillery

a soldier –

rifle

slung over a shoulder –

picks his way

toward camera

there is nothing left

that might hold

use

or meaning

picture 4

the village near kyiv

is a series

of mounds

rubble

that was homes

and houses

a month or so

ago

a woman

is sifting

searching

for something –

anything

that might

have a use

it’s all been destroyed

by missiles

and artillery

she hasn’t found

a lot

that will be helpful

~

pictures

pictures

they won’t

let me sleep

in the night

they shout at me

that we have come

full circle

and the ukraine

is in 1916 all over again

Who is your favourite war poet?

I can’t honestly say I have a favourite war poet, but I have read with a deep sense of connection stories such as All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque with its empathy for the soldiers of the day. Here is the Wikipedia link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/All_Quiet_on_the_Western_Front .

What is your favourite war poem?

I’m aware of many of the great poet writers of the First World War, such as Owen, Sassoon, Brook and Graves, among others, but for my response to this question I have to refer you and readers to a song that I first encountered back when I was a teenager (50 years, who would ever have thought . . .).

The song was performed by a wonderful English Folk ensemble called Steeleye Span, and the song is called Fighting For Strangers. Here is the YouTube link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JI3vRaTg0tI

YouTube Links

In addition to the links given above, I would welcome viewers, new followers (if any so desire) comments and feedback on my YouTube Channel, where there a re a number of video readings from my war poetry collections (and natural disasters and psychiatry and others). Click on the link below to be taken along to the Playlists available on the Channel.

https://www.youtube.com/@frankprempoetandauthor726/playlists

Robbie and readers, thanks so much for having me along to chat for November’s Treasuring Poetry post.

My review of From Volyn to Kherson: Interpretations of the War in Ukraine

This book is a ‘hard’ read. It exposes the realities of war; the filth, the noise, the fear, and the destruction and death. No civilian wants war, it is something that is imposed on individuals because of factors outside of the man on the street’s control. Civilians, however, bear the brunt of war as the women lose their husbands and sons. The entire population generally loses its collectively homes, food stability, economic stability, access to sanitation, food, and healthcare. Many countries and populations never recover from wars and their populations become unwanted refugees. The sympathy of the unaffected world shrinks rapidly when wars and the resultant refugees impacts on their economies, making the slices of the economic pie for their own populations smaller.

The war in Ukraine hit me especially hard when I read about the Russian soldiers who froze to death in their tanks. Although the Russians were the instigators and aggressors in this war, many of those young men are the same ages as my own two sons, and their dreadful fate couldn’t fail to stir compassion. Young men frequently have a glamorous and inaccurate picture of war when they enlist or are called up. The realities of war quickly displace these notions but it is already too late.

A few stirring stanzas from this collection of freestyle poems:

From fallen (quietly weeping)
“here it is safe

safe enough
to shed
a tear”

From the metro (is also home)
“let the fear
fall away
for a moment while
the anthem
sounds”

From vasylkiv (is fighting on)
This footnote made me shiver: “People used to think about new car or iphone, but nobody was thinking about peace. Now, we are dreaming of it. When old people used to wish each other peace, we didn’t understand what they meant. Now we do.”

and finally, from in okhtyrka (the tsentral’ne)
“they are preparing
the cemetery now
in okhtyrka

adriy
and his platoon
are gone

vacuum bombed

air taken
out
of them

and then
they died”

This is a beautiful and emotion book of poems that will change the way you view war forever.

You can find out more about Frank Prem here:

You can find out more about Frank Prem on his website here: https://frankprem.com/

and on his wordpress blog here: https://frankprem.wordpress.com/blog/

On amazon US here: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Frank-Prem/author/B07L61HNZ4

About Robbie Cheadle

Photo of Robbie Cheadle standing in front of trees.

Award-winning, bestselling author, Robbie Cheadle, has published fourteen children’s books and two poetry books. Her work also features in several poetry and short story anthologies.

Robbie also has two novels published under the name of Roberta Eaton Cheadle and has horror, paranormal, and fantasy short stories featured in several anthologies under this name.

The eleven 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 and Michael Cheadle have recently launched a new series of children’s books called Southern African Safari Adventures. The first book, Neema the Misfit Giraffe is now available from Amazon.

Robbie’s blog includes recipes, fondant and cake artwork, poetry, and book reviews. https://robbiesinspiration.wordpress.com/

You can find example of Robbie Cheadle’s artwork in her art gallery here: https://www.robbiecheadle.co.za/art-gallery/


Treasuring Poetry: Meet poet, Selma Martin, and a review of her poetry book, In The Shadow of Rainbows: A Collection of Songs of Presence

Today I am delighted to introduce poet, Selma Martin, who has just published a beautiful book of poetry entitled In The Shadow of Rainbows.

Selma has started her interview with a quote and a truly lovely commentary about my book, Lion Scream. I have included it because it is so kind of Selma to have written it, and I appreciate her comments and review a great deal, but please remember that this post is about Selma and her poetry and gorgeous book.

Poems are made by fools like me

But without support, I’ve nowise to be 

Robbie, you’ve no idea how much my enthusiasm level has risen just at the thought of being here with you for this interview. I’m truly honored. And I wish to begin by telling you that I respect you all the more after completing your lovely poetry collection, Lion Scream which I read from start to finish several times. What a lovely book you blessed the world with, Robbie. May we all continue to find grace and compassion in books that enlighten our optimistic approach to everything our world is experiencing at the moment. As someone once wrote, the solutions are there when the problems are recognized. I think that collectively we’ve come to recognize that we have a big problem. So it’s my sincere hope that in this lifetime we figure out where we should put our collective efforts. Your book provides a venue to initiate constructive markers of where we need to start. And together work to narrow the gap between our two realities. Yes, there are two realities: 

  1. Objective reality – “the world out there.” The world of your senses
  2. Subjective reality – “the world in here.”  The world of our minds; the world of emotions and feelings–composed of thoughts, opinions and judgments, and emotions.

I stand by what I wrote on Amazon: Your book is a must-read!

Now onto the questions that I’m ever so happy to respond to:

You have recently released your first poetry collection, In the Shadow of Rainbows. What inspired the poetry in this book? Does it have a particular theme?

SELMA: Inspiration waits for us at every corner, and one is always hoping that it will pat us on the shoulder and remain with us for the duration of the journey. For me, it got a nudge after I completed my 60th trip around the sun. Nothing is more inspiring than realizing that I have lived more life than I have left to live. This is the truth. And the only gauge I went by with my collection was to amass sixty poems.  Well, I wrote more than sixty, thinking that a few wouldn’t make the cut but my editor, Ingrid Wilson of Experiments in Fiction allowed me a little more than sixty; sixty-four resulted. I am grateful. 
As I mentioned in the book, I set sail without a strict theme but kept the faith that one would appear. That of shadows was so strong that at one point I fancied naming the collection Shadows, Whispers, and Echoes. But then, as I mention in the book, an old memory of finding rainbows on my eyelashes acted as my rudder and so there you have it: In The Shadow of Rainbows. I think the title fits the theme so well. Deep bow to my editor. Deep bow to my cover photographer.

Picture caption: The cover of Selma’s book, In the Shadow of Rainbows. I agree that it is very beautiful.

Do you do a lot of editing of your poetry or does the poem manifest itself fully formed?

SELMA: Oh my, let me quote from a haiku from Tachibana Genjiro(1665-1718): I write, erase write, erase again, and then a poppy blooms.
It’s a lot of writing, deleting, and rewriting indeed. And even after my poppy blooms I still find incidents where I wish to start over. So, yes, I do lots of editing; and no, so far no poem has ever manifested itself fully formed for me. 

What do you find to be the most effective way of sharing your poetry with fellow poetry lovers?

SELMA: Writing and sharing my work here on WordPress is the only way I know and feel comfortable sharing my work with other poetry lovers. I’m fully aware that there are other online magazines where I can share my work, but for some reason, I hold back from going the distance because sometimes I don’t feel deserving enough. Or perhaps it is that I need to feel a connection to my readers like I’ve begun to feel with my readers here on WordPress? 
Also, there is the issue of time and timing. I never want to overdo it; I think we need variety, and so I refrain from posting even on my website at times. 
At the moment, I’ve created a beautiful respectful relationship with the Editor of Masticadores USA, Barbara Leonhard, and so I sometimes submit my work there. I’m so grateful that Barbara helps me to reach other audiences and I’m working hard to jump on the bandwagon the next time someone calls for submissions to an anthology that fits my writing.

Do you think poetry is still a relevant form of expressing ideas in our modern world? If yes, why?

Poetry is not new–we know this. It’s the oldest, or at least one of the oldest forms of intimate expressions we humans have had. In today’s fast-paced society, the extraordinary value of the word hasn’t diminished. (Take that, emojis) and we humans will never be irreverent to this art form. Poetry will always rank high in relevance as long as there exist people like you and me. Me think so. 

Which of your own poems is your favorite and why?

Oh, no no no. I don’t have a favorite; I like them all, really I do! But I will share one and honestly hope you find it to your taste. 

Slice of Life

Flanked between two wanings, I live you,

planting the light hours with loving acts,

for you, for us, for our ménage,

and when I meet the dusk, filled,

ready for our mingling at the table,

where we swap slices of lived moments

of the same day, hearts swell replete.

I chose one of the shortest poems in the collection to share with you. It’s strategically placed as the penultimate poem in the book, and I’m happy to elucidate on this poetry form that touched me. 
In its true form, it’s a Kwansaba poem, an African-American verse form of praise: a praise poem that celebrates family. The Kwansaba (Swahili kwan -first fruit/saba -principle) was created in 1995 by Eugene B. Redmond, East St. Louis Poet Laureate and professor of English at Southern Illinois University-East St. Louis. The form was developed in honor of the celebration of Kwanzaa. The poetic form adopts the number 7 from Kwanzaa’s Nguzo Saba (7 principles) as well as embraces its roots in the South African tradition of the Praise Poem. 
The 7 principles of Kwanzaa are unity, self-determination, collective work and responsibility, cooperative economics, purpose, creativity, and faith. Each day of the celebration focuses on one of the principles. Isn’t this just such a beautiful principle? I think it is, as all the principles take off at unity which starts at the family level. 

I wrote it originally for a dVerse prompt in December 2021–then, I abbreviated some words to meet the exact count of sevens but changed it a bit for clarity to include in the book. It’s about family, and I hope you like it. 

Which poem by any other poet that you’ve read, do you relate to the most and why?

SELMA: Oh, you got me on this question again, Robbie. There are so many poems to choose from. And I relate to them when I read them. Indeed it’s like asking which is your favorite color today or your favorite sunset… but I will share one of the poems I like.  As to why this poem, I dare say it’s because I love it when we enter this season. Also, I adore the poet’s style and the vernacular he uses in this gorgeous poem. I found it on Poetry Foundation to share here with you. Take a look: 

When the Frost is on the Punkin

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY (1849–1916) When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin’ turkey-cock,
And the clackin’ of the guineys, and the cluckin’ of the hens,
And the rooster’s hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it’s then’s the times a feller is a-feelin’ at his best,
With the risin’ sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

They’s something kindo’ harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer’s over and the coolin’ fall is here—
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin’-birds and buzzin’ of the bees;
But the air’s so appetizin’; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur’ that no painter has the colorin’ to mock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin’ of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries—kindo’ lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin’ sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below—the clover over-head!—
O, it sets my hart a-clickin’ like the tickin’ of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock!

Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;
And your cider-makin’ ’s over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too! …
I don’t know how to tell it—but ef sich a thing could be
As the Angels wantin’ boardin’, and they’d call around on me
I’d want to ’commodate ’em—all the whole-indurin’ flock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock!
***
I love love love this poem. Golly, Robbie, I hope you liked it too.

My review of In The Shadow of Rainbows by Selma Martin

A most enjoyable collection of poems that seeks to find the upliftment, or silver lining, in the ordinary and everyday experiences of people, including the poet herself. The poems acknowledge human failings and short comings but attempt (successfully I thought) to put them into perspective and find the happiness and joy in life despite the imperfections humans, as a species, tend to exhibit when faced with challenges and dealing with experiences, both good and bad.

A few short quotations from some of my favourite poems in the collection are as follows:

“perfect specimens
of imperfection
you and I” from Give Back

“When death comes
I want to be led into eternity
curious, full of joy” from When Death Comes

“One fine day, I recognized the smell of summer,
the languid air of the somnolent noon,
so I rose and walked away from the wheelchair
hands outstretched, to the hollycocks there.” from Angel August

All of us experience ups and downs in life. Anything that can help us find perspective thereby gaining understanding and solace, is worth embracing. This book does that and is an inspired and inspiring read.

About Selma Martin

Selma Martin is a retired English teacher with 20 years of teaching children ESL. She believes in people’s goodness and in finding balance in simple living. She lives in Japan with her husband of thirty-three years. In 2018, Selma participated in a networking course whose final lesson was to publish a story on Amazon. After many failed attempts, she completed the course and self-published her short story, Wanted: Husband/Handyman, in 2019. Later, collaborating with peers from that course, she published Wanted: Husband/Handyman in an anthology, Once Upon A Story: A Short Fiction Anthology. Selma has published stories on Medium for many years, in MasticadoresUSAThe Poetorium At StarlightShort Fiction Break, and Spillwords. After her first NaPoWriMo 2021, Selma writes poetry on her website, selmamartin.com, and in July 2023, published a debut poetry collection on Amazon
You can find Selma, selmawrites, on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. But if you wish to engage and create a meaningful interaction with Selma: add value, nurture trust, and share engaging content from the ordinary perspective of someone navigating life in today’s fast-paced culture, you may join her once-a-month pen pal newsletter

Other ways of contacting Selma

 EMAIL: selma@selmamartin . com OR selmagogowrites@gmail .

INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/selmawrites/ 

TWITTER/X: https://twitter.com/SelmaWrites

About Robbie Cheadle

Photo of Robbie Cheadle standing in front of trees.

Award-winning, bestselling author, Robbie Cheadle, has published thirteen children’s book and three poetry books. Her work has also appeared in poetry and short story anthologies.

Robbie also has two novels published under the name of Roberta Eaton Cheadle and has horror, paranormal, and fantasy short stories featured in several anthologies under this name.

The ten 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’s blog includes recipes, fondant and cake artwork, poetry, and book reviews. https://robbiesinspiration.wordpress.com/


Treasuring Poetry – Meet poets, bloggers, and writers, Emily Gmitter and Zoe the Fabulous Feline, and a review #TreasuringPoetry #Poetrycommunity #review

Today, I am delighted to welcome Emily Gmitter and her amazing writing cat, Zoe, to Treasuring Poetry. This is the first time I’ve interviewed such an interesting duo for this series and it has been a fabulous experience.

Welcome Emily and Zoe

I’d like to thank Robbie for inviting me and my co-author, Zoe the Fabulous Feline, to be guests on her lovely Treasuring Poetry blog. We’re happy to be here with her and all of you wonderful poets! Zoe says “hello” too—she’s waving her paw at the screen.

Is writing poetry easier for you compared to prose or do you do a lot of editing and revision of your poems?

While my initial writing efforts focused on poetry, and specifically, syllabic poetry, now I more often write short stories. However, poems or snippets of rhyme frequently find their way into my stories. My brain seems wired for rhyme, so if something comes to me, I don’t ignore it. But, to give you the short and direct answer to your question: I edit my prose far more than I do my poetry.

If I may elaborate, there is a distinct difference between the poet I thought I was back in the day, and the writer I hope I am today. Writing prose came much later in my life—that is, if you don’t count my very first short story, written in fourth grade, about a letter that was afraid of the dark. The story starts with a mom asking her daughter to take a letter to the mailbox. Just as the child is pulling the handle of the mailbox down and bringing the letter up to the opening, the letter starts to squirm and squeal in fear. It begs the child to not do it: “Please don’t drop me into the dark!” The child is startled, of course, but before she can say or do anything, the letter grows arms and legs and runs away. And that’s all I remember about that!

Getting back to your question … I’d add that, while I do edit my poetry, it seems most of my poems haven’t required heavy revision. I might tweak a word or two to keep the meter consistent or create an inner rhyme. Sometimes I’ve made an edit to deliberately include an alliterative phrase. But that’s about it. So I think syllabic poetry—unlike free verse—has always come easily to me. And it’s gotten easier as I’ve gotten older, or perhaps my personal bar has gotten lower. With my prose, though, it’s a far different story. The editing seems never-ending, but of course, at some point, you have to call it done.

I alluded to free verse; writing poetry in that style is not my forte, and has never been. Every once in a blue moon, something comes to me in that form, and usually it’s very short. (There is one example of that in my book, called “Soul Buddies.”) Free verse is much harder for me to write. I enjoy it, and I envy those who can create it, but it’s never come naturally to me. When I try to write it, it feels contrived. In one sense of the word, contrived is a positive thing; it’s what all writers do, right? We deliberately create a written piece; we calculate where to place an adjective, we assess whether a near-rhyme works well or at all. And on and on. So, contrived is not a dirty word. But it does have a negative sense, as well. When I find myself digging too deeply for words to convey what I wish to, the result sometimes feels forced and phony. I usually end up balling up the paper and aiming for the wastepaper basket. And that’s happened more times than I care to remember. I’ll leave free verse to those who can actually create it and spend my time enjoying the beauty of their creations.

Today I find that a poem is either there or it’s not. I most enjoy creating poetry when the words flow naturally. That feels like a gift. I write it down, and I leave it alone.

What mode (blog, books, YouTube, podcasts) do you find the most effective for sharing your poems with poetry lovers and readers?

I incorporated my poems into my newly released book and, while I’m not sure of its effectiveness over alternative modes, I really enjoyed using my poetry to mix up the flavor of the book. I also share my poetry (as well as my short stories and artwork) on social media.

Now, Zoe is more clever than I, or perhaps I should say, she’s a bit less technically challenged than I. She’s on Facebook, too, but she also posts on her The Life & Times of Zoe the Fabulous Feline blog. (A bit contrived if you ask me. To which Zoe just said, “Who’s asking you?”) Speaking of the little imp, she would like to say something. And I think I should be afraid.

Hi, Robbie, it’s me, Zoe the Fabulous Feline! I just wanted to point out something Emily neglected to tell you, which is that my poems are also in our book. Sheesh! Well, at least she gave me credit for my blog. My short stories sometimes include poetry, and I share my short stories on my social media pages. I did write one story completely in syllabic rhyme, which is in our book; it’s called “Zoe and Friends’ Strange Adventure.” It’s too long to include here,, so I’ll just summarize it for you:

A magic hat flies me and a couple of friends on a journey to different lands, one ruled by an evil dictator, and another led by a kind and compassionate old soul—the latter a land where a White Mist relays to us a message of hope and love. We return home with a new perspective.

I’m quite proud of that story-poem. (Story-poem might not be the right, or even a valid, term, but Emily would not let me say “epic poem”; she said I would sound terribly “arrogant.” I’m not even sure what that means, but it does not sound good.) About other modes for our writings: I’ve considered a podcast, but when I’d previously tried to teach Emily how to set up her own blog, that did not go well. Still, I took a chance and mentioned to her that I’d like her assistance with doing a “PodCAT” (a podcast for cats only). Well, I had to practically pick her up off the floor. So I took pity on her and did not push the idea. Anyway, I’m busy enough already. I’ll hand the baton back to Emily at this time and will be back if any other question catches my attention. Ciao for now!

Do you think poetry is still a relevant form of expressing ideas in our modern world? If yes, why?

Yes, I do, because poetry is a window into our souls. Poets write from the heart, and because people are multi-faceted creatures, and because there is so much going on around us all the time, there is no end to the food that will feed a poet’s imagination. Relevance abounds!

And then we have that other class of poets who are relevant in our modern world—the songwriter. Songwriters write lyrics that tell their own stories but also often speak to all our lives. Some artists may stick with the typical love song and/or love-gone-wrong song, and others may risk commercial success for at least occasionally penning songs that speak truth to power. In the latter category, the words of Kris Kristofferson come to mind. His diverse catalog includes every kind of song imaginable, from love songs to humor to satire, from the bittersweet of love and loss to the blessings bestowed on us by a higher power. He also writes biting, politically charged, contemporary songs; just one example of Kristofferson’s many topical tunes is an older one, called “In the News.” (A word of caution: Based on real life events, these lyrics are not easy to read.)

In the News

Read about the sorry way he done somebody’s daughter
Chained her to a heavy thing and threw her in the water
And she sank into the darkness with their baby son inside her
A little piece of truth and beauty died

Burning up the atmosphere and cutting down the trees
The billion dollar bombing of a nation on its knees
Anyone not marching to their tune they call it treason
Everyone says God is on his side

See the lightning, hear the cries
Of the wounded in a world in Holy war
Mortal thunder from the skies
Killing everything they say they’re fighting for

Broken babies, broken homes
Broken-hearted people dying everyday
How’d this happen, what went wrong
Don’t blame God, I swear to God I heard him say

Not in my name, not on my ground
I want nothing but the ending of the war
No more killing, or it’s over
And the mystery won’t matter anymore

Broken dreamers, broken rules
Broken-hearted people just like me and you
We are children of the stars
Don’t blame God, I swear to God he’s crying too

Not in my name, not on my ground
I want nothing but the ending of the war
No more killing, or it’s over
And the mystery won’t matter anymore

Read about the sorry way he done somebody’s daughter
Chained her to a heavy thing and threw her in the water
And she sank into the darkness with their baby son inside her
A little piece of truth and beauty died

~ Kris Kristofferson ~ (In the News – YouTube)

It would be hard to be any more relevant in our modern world than that.

Which of your own poems is your favorite and why?

Oh, this is a tough one! I have favorites in different categories. If we’re talking humorous, “The Spider” is my favorite. I understand some will not find the killing of insects to be a humorous topic, but I have a serious bug phobia, so perhaps I will be forgiven.

The Spider

There you were on my wall the other day,

It wasn’t easy for me, but I let you go on your way.

Soon you were out of sight, but not out of mind,

For I need to know where you are at all times.

I needn’t have worried,

Soon enough you were back.

And busily building a translucent track.

Can’t spare you again, you should’ve stayed gone.

But no, you had to come back and build a new home.

And now, Lord have mercy, I feel bad, it’s a sin,

But when it comes down to your home or mine—mine wins.

My favorite poem of poignancy is “Unjust Desserts.” And for a fun read, I would choose “Nashville-Rainbow Style,” because it tells the story of a most memorable vacation with a bunch of my musician friends. And finally I—

Helloooo, this is Zoe again. I mean, I love Emily, but she sure can go on and on sometimes. Here is a little ditty I wrote as the ending to my short story entitled “Zoe the Poet.” The publisher liked it so much, he insisted on including it in our book, and that’s why it’s my favorite.

Zoe the feline just checking in

To bring you a laugh, a tear, or a grin.

The stories I give you, they come from within,

Except when they come from without.

Please note: With that poem, I answered the question of poetry relevance, too … saying in four lines what Emily said in four paragraphs.

Why do you write poetry?

It’s a good question. You could just as well ask why do I write prose? Both art forms paint images with words, and I equate words with power. Power to evoke emotions both positive and negative, power to entertain. And that’s what poetry is all about.

I love words! And I love to have fun with them. So my love of the English language is why I write anything at all. It’s also a way to communicate with others, a way of expressing myself without censoring myself, which I tend to do in oral communications. That’s the short and sweet answer to this question. As Zoe so kindly pointed out, I can go on and on, so if this satisfies, that’s cool. But I will say a few things more for those who like to read on and on.

As previously mentioned, my first writings of so many moons ago consisted entirely of poetry. But the truth is, these days I don’t set out to write poetry. These days, my creative endeavors have centered on prose and painting instead. However, I do still dip my toes in the pools of poetry every so often. Because of my love for language, I make a concerted effort to take advantage of the various forms of writing tools, such as alliteration, which adds interest to a piece, especially when it’s subtle—when it slips easily into the ear the way an old, well-worn glove slides over one’s hand.

Some short stories and all songs are poetry. In the short story category, flash fiction comes to mind, and especially those restricted-word-count story challenges; those can be poetry of the highest order. In word-challenge stories, one must use language in a very efficient yet meaningful way. When every word has to count, the result is often a rhythmic cadence that shouts “I am poetry!” I wrote the following in response to a 79-word challenge story. I may be biased but, to my mind, it is nothing if not poetic.

Letting Go

No shame in letting go. The freedom of the fall was stronger than her sister’s hand. They were having a passionate discussion. A decade separated the sisters. Their differences, strengthened over every day of each of those years, became more apparent as the discussion threatened to explode. The younger sister stood firm against the fire of her older sister’s fears. She knew it came from love, as surely as she knew she would survive the freedom of letting go.

My early poems came from a place of typical teen-age angst, most often fairly short expressions of whatever was on my mind at the time. Looking back at some of those now… well, I won’t say I’m embarrassed, exactly; I never planned for anyone to read them. But I am, at the least, amused at having taken myself so seriously back then. This might be the first poem I ever wrote. Needless to say, Growing Old did not make it into my book!

Growing Old

My brain is numb,

My heart is cold.

I must be dead,

Or am I old?

Was I describing my youthful thoughts on senility, dementia, growing old in general? Most likely the latter—the concept of aging in general—but the former shows that I had no real sense or kind thoughts about what it meant to be old. Clearly, I was not going to age gracefully!

Many of us younger folks had some angst about our elders—you know, those folks over thirty years of age and considered part of the establishment. Everybody expressed it in their own way. One of my earlier poems relays how I envisioned our world if nuclear powers were to lose their senses. It’s too long to include in this interview (it’s in my book), but here’s a stanza that shows the basic theme of the poem:

The Future of the Child

“What shall I be, Dad, when I grow up?”

Looking toward the future, an eager young pup.

“Anything you want, Son,” you say with a smile.

And secretly pray for the future of the child.

So, that was then, when I set out to write poetry. And this is now when I don’t. “Soul Buddies” is one of those short, free-verse poems that gave birth to itself without any help from me.

Soul Buddies

I found you so easily, where I found you,

not because you are predictable,

but because you go where I go.

You are where I am.

Worlds apart in time, bound by soul.

And that is my long answer to your question, Robbie. And to anyone who has read this far, thank you!

Which poem by any other poet that you’ve read, do you relate to the most [please provide the poem or a link to the poem] and why?

So many speak to me that it’s hard to choose the one that speaks the loudest. The volume also seems to change depending on my mood at any given time. But, at the top of my list of poets are Kris Kristofferson and Gibran Khalil Gibran. You might think Kris and Khalil is a strange pairing, but when you read the lyrics written by Kris and the poems written by Khalil, you see that both write poetry that hits you in your heart. Poetry that makes you wonder how they knew your innermost feelings.

Shel Silverstein is another genius I admire. His body of work is relatable, his sense of humor is bound to give the reader a new perspective on this crazy little thing called life. A well-known author of children’s books and poetry collections, his poems appear funny and light-hearted, and they are. But most contain considerable substance, as well. I really love “Put Something In simply because it’s a great message, and not just for children.

I relate to this one a lot, at least partly because it speaks to the artist I fancy is in there somewhere, and the child I pray is still in there somewhere.

Put Something In

Draw a crazy picture,
Write a nutty poem,
Sing a mumble-grumble song,
Whistle through your comb.
Do a loony-goony dance
‘Cross the kitchen floor,
Put something silly in the world
That ain’t been there before.

~ Shel Silverstein ~

But you asked which one poem I relate to the most. I would choose this one by Gibran Khalil Gibran, called “Do Not Love Half Lovers.” In this poem, Khalil takes two simple idioms we’ve probably all heard all our lives (Live life to the fullest and Do it well or not at all) and presents them in a poetic fashion that is brilliant. This piece is accessible and contains valuable advice, yet is so mundane that it cannot help but be universal. I feel as though he was in my head when he wrote it. Who hasn’t, at one time or another, found themselves exhibiting such negative or self-damaging behaviors? Who hasn’t, at one time or another, felt only half alive?

One might say this poem reminds them that life is too short to live it only halfway. Others might say life is too long.

Do Not Love Half Lovers

Do not love half lovers
Do not entertain half friends
Do not indulge in works of the half talented
Do not live half a life
and do not die a half death
If you choose silence, then be silent
When you speak, do so until you are finished
Do not silence yourself to say something
And do not speak to be silent
If you accept, then express it bluntly
Do not mask it
If you refuse then be clear about it
for an ambiguous refusal is but a weak acceptance
Do not accept half a solution
Do not believe half truths
Do not dream half a dream
Do not fantasize about half hopes
Half a drink will not quench your thirst
Half a meal will not satiate your hunger
Half the way will get you no where
Half an idea will bear you no results
Your other half is not the one you love
It is you in another time yet in the same space
It is you when you are not
Half a life is a life you didn’t live,
A word you have not said
A smile you postponed
A love you have not had
A friendship you did not know
To reach and not arrive
Work and not work
Attend only to be absent
What makes you a stranger to them closest to you
and they strangers to you
The half is a mere moment of inability
but you are able for you are not half a being
You are a whole that exists to live a life
not half a life

~ Gibran Khalil Gibran ~

********

Well, I think I better stop here, Robbie. Zoe and I thank you again for this opportunity to take part in such a fun feature!

Thank you, Emily and Zoe, for being such entertaining guests.

Happiness is a Warm Cat by Emily Gmitter and Zoe the Fabulous Feline

Blurb

In Happiness is a Warm Cat, author Emily Gmitter and her feline friend, Zoe, serve up a mixed genre of short stories and poems brimming with passion, love, and humor. The majority of the stories are told from the perspective of her cat, Zoe—a cool cat of perspicacity if ever there was one. Zoe’s stories will make you laugh, cry, and occasionally scratch your head in wonder, while Emily’s stories of fiction and nonfiction mingle humor with a sharp poignancy that you’ll find both heartwarming and entertaining.

My review

Happiness is a Warm Cat is a wonderfully unique book filled with experiences and adventures told through the eyes of Emily Gmitter’s fabulous cat, Zoe, as well as some beautifully written romantic and other fictional pieces and biographical stories about aspects of Emily’s life. There are also some lovely poems and several pictures of Emily’s artwork. All of the creations in this book are filled with vibrancy, colour, and passion.

The stories about Zoe and her adventures are fun filled and interesting. Zoe is typical of a cat and is filled with self importance and quite sure about her status as ‘top dog’. She does all manner of naughty things to ensure that Emily remembers her place in the family structure. Zoe is also big hearted and curious (aren’t all cats?) and likes to meet other animals, including Bella the dog and Burt the writing cat, Bella and Barre the Siamese twins, as well as spending time with her sister, Jaz. Zoe also gets to experience some pain and loss.

As a reader, I thought that experiencing daily life through the eyes of Zoe, was a wonderful way to make sense of everyday trials and tribulations and find the happiness in small things and moments.

A wonderful book for readers who appreciate experiencing the ordinary contentedness of life from a different perspective.

Purchase Happiness is a Warm Cat by Emily Gmitter and Zoe the Fabulous Feline

Amazon US

About Emily Gmitter

Emily lives on the North Shore of Massachusetts. She loves to spend alone-time at the beach, fun-time singing at local karaoke clubs, and the rest of her time engaged in activities with family and friends … when she’s not reading, writing, or painting.


Wrapping Up the WordCrafter “Small Wonders” Book Blog Tour

Tour Banner: Snowy mountains framed by pine trees in background. WordCrafter logo and Small Wonders in foreground.
Text: WordCrafter Book Blog Tours Presents Small Wonders Reflective Poems By Kaye Lynne Booth

We are wrapping up the WordCrafter Small Wonders Book Blog Tour here on Writing to be Read. We’ve had a great week long tour, with a poetry reading at every stop, two delightful reviews and I had a lovely interview with DL Mullan. Now it’s time to wrap everything up, so be sure to comment for a chance to win a free digital copy of my debut poetry collection, Small Wonders. And you can still follow the links in the schedule below to visit each stop and comment for additional chances to win.

Schedule

Small Wonders, by Kaye Lynne Booth – June 19-23

Monday – June 19 – Opening Day – Post “My Moment of Fame” w/ reading “Aspen Tree”– Writing to be Read

Tuesday – June 20 – Guest Post “Fun with Poetry” w/ reading Tanka poem– Robbie’s Inspiration

Wednesday – June  21 Introduction & Comments – Writing to be Read/Guest Post “I’m a Bird Watcher” w/ reading “Bird Watching”, Interview & Review – Undawnted

Thursday – June 22 Guest Post “Someone to Look Up To” w/ reading “To Be A Cat” & Review – Carla Loves to Read

Friday – June 23 – Final stop –  Post “I Like to Grow Things” w/ reading Haiga Poem- Writing to be Read

The Small Wonders Giveaway

Three free digital copies of

Small Wonders

are up for grabs. Follow the tour and make a comment at each stop,

so I know you were there and you’re automatically entered.

One entry per stop.

Winners selected in a random drawing. (Really. I draw them out of a hat, literally.)

About the Book

Small Wonders on a digital device and in print
Book Cover: Yellow and black butterfly on a purple bell flower stalk
Text: Small Wonders Reflective Poems By Kaye Lynne Booth

The world is filled with amazing things, if we will just stop a moment and take notice. In this vast universe, we are but tiny individuals, filled with awe and amazement. From reflections on first love, to reflections on growing old. The poems within these pages express a lifetime of unique reflections in Small Wonders.

Purchase Link: https://books2read.com/u/b6WZ6E

I Like to Grow Things

I’m a gardener, and I love to share photos of my beautiful flowers that I grow.

In addition to the beautiful blooms that I plant to attract birds each year, I often plant nutritious vegetables to make attractive plates at my table. Last year, I had a monster cherry tomato plant that was huge, it’s fruit abundant, gracing not only my table, but the tables of neighbors and friends because there was plenty to go around for all. I had to look up to it standing on the porch. It was crazy.

An enormous cherry tomato plant in a pot on a porch

It’s not surprising that my garden activities have found a way into my poetry. The follolwing scenario occured only in my head, but it was fun to write. I promise no animals were harmed in the making of this poem.

A Mole in the Garden

There’s a hole in my garden where a plant should be

I think a mole feasts on my zucchini

A carrot just vanished and there goes a pea!

By all that is sacred, I must get that mole

Or I fear that my garden will be nothing but holes,

Leaving only the rocks, which he hasn’t stole.

I’ll take a shovel and smash his head.

One whack and surely, the mole will be dead.

Oh dear! I’ve smashed my best pumpkin instead.

My cabbage are gone leaving several large holes

A tomato plant is sucked straight down by that mole

Leaving a hole that looks like a very large bowl.

Perhaps there is another way

I’ll fill that hole with smoke today

Then that mole won’t want to stay.

I can’t see my garden as smoke fills the sky

It burns my eyes and makes me cry

It clears to a big empty patch in my rye!

There will be nothing left, that mole’s such a hog.

To save my garden, I’ll turn loose the dog

And flood it all out; turn it into a bog.

The dog tears through the garden, pouncing on each hole

He tromps on my plants and knocks down a bean pole.

A muddy mess is created, but alas! No mole.

I watch as another tomato plant disappears

There goes a potato and a head of lettuce. Oh dear!

I’d better plant enough for me AND the mole next year.

Haigas

“A Haiga is either a Haiku or a Senryu poem accompanied by an image…” (Word Craft: Prose & Poetry, by Colleen M. Chesebro, p. 57) Since Haiku and Senryu are not usually titled, it goes to follow that Haigas are also untitled.

Now, I’d like to share a poetry reading of a Haiga poem from the Small Wonders collection. Please take a moment to give it a listen. (If you like it, you can also subscribe to the YouTube channel while there.)

Poetry Reading – A Haiga Poem

That wraps up the WordCrafter Small Wonders Book Blog Tours. I thank you all for joining us and helping to send off this unique debut poetry collection. I’ve enjoyed sharing my poetry with you and I hope you’ll check out the book. If you missed any of the stops, there’s still time to go back and leave a comment for even more chances to win a free digital copy, too. You can do that throught he links in the schedule posted above. I’ll post the winners in my WordCrafter News post on Monday.

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Book your WordCrafter Book Blog Tour today!