One Stop Spotlight - Adam White

I think most of you have already met poet Adam White somewhere along the One Stop trail, where he shares his excellent poetry every week.

Adam has a strong voice and I very much enjoy his honesty and straight forwardness (not only in his writing) but his variety when it comes to approaching different poetic styles.

Adam is about to move from England to Canada and I want to say a special thanks that he found the time to write a bit about his background, how he came to write, and what inspires his poetry.

You can read more of Adam's work on his blog "Poetry by Adam White" and you can also find him on Twitter @adamwhitepoet.

~ Claudia

His Hands

His hands are steady, workers hands,
They work a dark workers task,
Twisting lives with thread and needle,

And souls infused in cloth and glass.
Forming perfect feminine shape
Sweetly curved and lovingly made,
With naive minds unused to life,
Innocent, untouched and afraid.

With their feet, their delicate flesh
As soft as softest, bone white silk,
They wake unknowing in the dark
Skin shining bright like moonlit milk.
Hearts of glass rest in breathless breasts
And no breath will pass their painted lips
And eyes like stars freshly cast
Guide ships in to their careful kiss.

He made one most desirable

Of all his pretty maiden dolls.
Kairi. Her name was Kairi and
She had the most shining of souls.
She was kind and sweet and caring
And giving with her lover's heart.
Her beauty left perfection spent,
Surroundings rendered empty, dark.

All able men craved her presence
Wanted, not the word for her.
Craving the most common of sights,
Her smile raised and so deftly turned
They would promise no disservice
To the beauty of his great craft,
But on this day, his love was money
And where there's money, there's a man.

He was a lord, a libertine,
A hedonist both crass and cruel,
A violent and heartless creature,
A drunkard and a proven fool
His fists played harsh on her beauty
From the first night she spent enslaved
Her suffering was so lasting
That one cold night, she ran away,

Her stitches split, stuffing scattered

Kairi dashed through dark and winding streets
Far from the pain her master gave
With clubbing hate and cloying heat.
She ran back to her great maker,
Through a bleak and telling storm,
To fall at his door and scream for love,
And sanity and for warmth.

His hands, his steady workers hands
That night they pulled at golden seams

They tore at cloth and snapped strong thread
Despite her cries and dying screams.
He ripped her perfect form apart
And smashed her eyes of starry glass
And started work on replacing her
With his hands, his steady hands.

(Copyright Adam White)

Background:

I was born and raised in Birmingham, England and (other than a year or so in Northampton, which is just as bad) I've spent all my life here. Anyone who has visited will know it's a horrid place and I am a product of that. That said, I've been blessed with knowing some wonderful people and come from a very loving family, so that has made the whole terrible situation much more bearable.

How I Came to Write:

I started writing when I was 16 (11 years ago, woof,) after some particularly traumatic events, at the suggestion of a man much more intelligent than myself. I'd lost somebody I was close to and it pushed me over the edge. That edge was self constructed of course, me being a 16 year old lad, raging with hormones, confusion, and a fair share of mental health issues which I'd hidden from everyone instead of doing the smart thing and seeking help. By the time I'd reached the tipping point, it was a little too late to reconcile my problems in an easier way so I spent a fair few years writing as a form of therapy.

It was all awful. I had no idea of form or structure or anything like that. I just scribbled hard words and, for the most part, that writing is very grim and not fit for human consumption. Take the normal teen angst poetry and combine that with a healthy dose of fantastical insanity and you're just about there. I still write this poetry and, hopefully, this part of my writing will never be read by anybody but me.

The more normal writing (if you can call it that) is the stuff I started writing for pleasure and makes up the bulk of the poetry I post on my blog. At first, the writing may have been a coping mechanism, but as I wrote more and more, I started to enjoy it. The story telling aspect of poetry is the part I love the most and, browsing through my site, you'll come across an awful lot of narrative driven verse about heroes and villains, lovers or suffering innocents.

This urge to share is a recent thing. I once ran a poetry group through the old msn communities but was never as serious about having my work seen as I am now. I set up my blog at the end of September 2010 and have been flabbergasted (great word) by the reaction. I am genuinely surprised by the amount of traffic my blog receives and all the positive feedback I've received, much of it from all the wonderful poets I've met through Twitter, Facebook, and especially One Stop Poetry. The hard work the guys here have put in to building a poetry community and promoting the up and comers is fantastic.

Inspiration:



I love all poetry but I do have a bit of a bone to pick. I read and study a lot but I have tried to look at the medium from an objective standpoint. I've noticed that I read much of it and feel sad that, as an art form, it has become increasingly abstract and elitist, especially here in England. This is by no means a modern problem (read Milton and his self referential nonsense) but it seems like to become part of the establishment nowadays you have to write about things that only intelligentsia and other poets are going to understand. This means that the majority of people find the work unintelligible. I genuinely hate this and, while in my more private work, I do write a lot (a LOT) of this kind of stuff myself, I will only post the accessible poetry on my own blog. I want anybody to be able to read and enjoy poetry. All they should have to be able to do is read. Maybe part of it comes from how poetry is taught in schools here (badly) but the trend for referential writing isn't doing the medium any favours.

I chose to share the poem "His Hands" with you because I think it's very indicative of my narrative work. Also because it hasn't been looked at a lot by people and it's one of my favourites of my recent output. As a reader of poetry, it satisfies me and that's honestly all I look for. I am a simple creature.

In the next few days, I'm going to embark on my next big adventure. I'm moving to Montreal in Canada (one of my favourite places in the world) to start my new life with my frankly wonderful partner. What will follow is a long period of writing freedom for me, so you can expect an increased volume of writing. I will be working on my epic poem, Udulo's Wars, a few screenplays and bringing my novel up to scratch. Bits and pieces from all of these will be popping up on my blog so look out for that. My work will keep popping up on One Shot Wednesdays and One Shoot Sundays too so keep your eye out for me and add me on Twitter @AdamWhitePoet.

Photo credits:
Creative Commons, Andreas Levers, Jonathan Khoo
http://www.flickr.com/photos/96dpi/2564208064
http://www.flickr.com/photos/jonk/3052458912

Moondustwriter's Thursday - Guest Featuring Poet Samuel Peralta

Welcome to Moondustwriter Thursday. I , Leslie Moon, am pleased to have the opportunity to interview Samuel Peralta. I've been following Samuel for more than a year now (we met on Twitter). I have been impressed with the depth and thoughtfulness of his poetry. 
Please enjoy Samuel Peralta!

Can you give us a short biography of yourself?

Some people have noticed that my writing suggests a science background and a varied cultural landscape – and that’s all true. I was born in Manila, went through school in the Philippines and California, U.S., did a Ph.D. in physics in the U.K., then research in Canada. 

I was the youngest to win a Palanca Award (the Pulitzer equivalent in the Philippines) for my collection “Pacific”. It was heady stuff. I published a chapbook after that, “Moon Leaves”. Later, I was recognized by the U.K. Poetry Society, the B.B.C., and was included in a Best of Anthology by the League of Canadian Poets. Then it ended.

Essentially, I became focused on the corporate world. My production of poetry dropped for years to maybe one poem a year. Having achieved business success, I had lost myself.

In trying to re-discover myself, I turned to songwriting, actually garnering a following on MySpace. Then Twitter arrived, and I began to re-visit poetry, as @Semaphore  http://www.twitter.com/semaphore. To my surprise, in two months, I reached a following in poetry that had taken me two years to achieve in music. Something clicked. Last year I was voted #1 for the Poetry on Twitter, and also named to a list of the Top 100 on-line poets in the world.

Now, with tens of thousands across my social sites, my reach has been greater than all my previous print publications combined. Ashton Kutcher has nothing to fear, but for poetry – the numbers are amazing. Besides my Twitter stream, my poetry is collected on my online journal, “Semaphore” - http://bit.ly/s4poetry.

Since my personal poetry renaissance, I’ve had poems in various journals and anthologies, but recently GOSS183 published my first new chapbook in years, “Sonnets from the Labrador” - http://www.magcloud.com/browse/Issue/106631. It’s a fabulous press, who include Pushcart Prize awardees in their author list; so I’m quite happy to be in that company.

How long have you been writing?

I’ve been writing poetry ever since I can remember; my mother kept presenting me with a notebook where I used to write verse~ couplets mainly. She says I was 5! She’s an artist, and my father a playwright, both well-recognized back home; I was raised to love art and literature. “A Mother” -http://bit.ly/s4amother - is about my mother, and “Pacific” - http://bit.ly./s4pacific - is about my father.

What inspired you to start writing poetry?

The sound, the musicality, of words, inspired me at the start.  Then, later on, the layers of meaning and emotion you could sculpt with words. Now, as I’ve said before, I am moved by earthquakes and personal tragedies, constellations and war, quantum physics and lost love, forces of nature as seen through the lens of a single person's experience. I write about imagined lives, camouflaging my personal pain and joy among these lives. I like being challenged. Someone once challenged me to write a poem related to shoes – when I finished, I had come up with “War” - http://bit.ly/s4war.

Maybe because of my scientific background, I also do a lot of research on a poem; you’d be surprised at how much. People have written to me about my life in Afghanistan, or Haiti, or my skating experiences. I have never been to those places, and I am a terrible skater. I live vicariously through my poems.

Do you engage in other forms of art?

I used to produce visual art, influenced by my parents’ artistic bent. I still appreciate it, but now I mainly visit galleries or collect, rather than produce visual art.

I still have a moderate following as a songwriter. As a singer, I worked with a professional studio to produce a couple of tracks and still continue to write songs for other bands and singers.

I find that those experiences help enrich my poetry, in terms of visual control and musicality.

What words of advice would you give someone just starting out?

Always be writing – having coffee, taking a walk, dreaming. Strive to make each poem the best you can make it, don’t compromise. If you’re not happy, it’s a work in progress.

Read as much as you can. Re-discover the classic poets. Among my favorites are T.S. Eliot - for his literary erudition; Pablo Neruda - for his sensuousness of language; and Craig Raine - for his incredible use of metaphor. There are many others.

Also, search out new works by new writers – you’d be surprised at what you find. The best poetry books I bought last year were from Billy Collins – the former US laureate – and Shaindel Beers, a relative newcomer.

This is where “One Stop Poetry” excels – in introducing writers to each other’s work, and in encouraging new work. It’s a wonderful community, with talent and enthusiasm, and I’m eager to see it move to the next level of success.

What are you working on at the present?

I continue to write on a regular basis, of course. My life is poetry. Over 200 poems are now collected on my “Semaphore” site.

"Sonata Vampirica", my sonnet-cycle book on that mythology, is being readied for release. I am hoping to follow that up with a collection of love poems and a collection of my renditions of selected poems by the Japanese artist, Kotaro Takamura.

My big project at the moment is a novel-sized verse project. I am 10,000+ words into it, it is consuming most of my time, but I am excited by it. And petrified.

 “The Semaphore Anthology” - http://bit.ly/s4anthology - another online journal I maintain, collects samples of the best (in my humble opinion) from new poets. I don’t solicit poems, I scour the net and then ask for permission to print, with only one criterion, that I read a poem and think, “Damn, I wish I’d written that”.

 I’m thinking about starting another online journal, about the craft of poetry, a behind-the-scenes look at structure and how specific poems were written. It’s a matter of whether I have enough time.


I appreciate that Samuel took time out of his schedule for this interview. One Stop Poetry is about recognizing talent and featuring  both new poets as well as seasoned poets. We hope you've enjoyed this view into Samuel's world of poetry. I know we will enjoy many years of wonder and intensity from this talented man.

Photography attributed to Creative Commons.

One Shot Wednesday - Poetry Week 29

Welcome to One Shot Wednesday - Week 29

Welcome to One Shot everyone! My name is Brian Miller and I will be your host today. We look forward to reading your amazing poetic offerings, and are excited you are here, but first let me tell you about a few things that will be rolling out in the next couple weeks with my Friday Poetically.

If you joined us last week, we wrote poetry to the amazing talent of Joe Satriani. Each month we will look at different musical inspirations for our poetry. This Friday, I will launch a new monthly children's wall, where we will be posting poems by children/teens. If you know word artists that happen to be children or have kids of your own, we encourage you to submit their work via email to One Stop Poetry. We will put several up each week and you will be notified the week your child's poem goes up on the wall. In order to provide protection for children under 14 years of age, we ask that you have them create a pen name. Each work of poetry can then be displayed with that name.

Those are just a few of the features you can look forward to on Fridays.

We also would appreciate your vote for One Stop Poetry if you are on Twitter. We have been nominated in two categories  (by the Twitter community) we are in good position to receive an award which would reflect back on each of you as this is a community.  There is a Shorty Awards button to the right of the page. 

Let's give the microphone back to all of you for One Shot Wednesday. Happy One Shot everyone!

If you are new to One Shot Wednesday, please feel welcome to participate by doing the following:

1, Write an original poem and post it to your blog

2, Link back to One Shot Wednesday from your post 

3, Sign up in the Mr Linky list,(use the URL from your blog) linking directly to your post, AFTER you've posted it. Mr Linky will be open from 5pm EST Tuesday (10pm UK)  until 3am EST Thursday (8am UK). If you need help with this, please ask in the comment box.

4, Go visit others that have posted. This is a great way to learn new forms, meet new poets and gain inspiration for your next piece. though this is not mandatory we encourage you to visit at least one other poet and give some helpful feedback.

5. For some of you I need to stress - don't feel that you need to comment on each poem. Take in the inspiration of a few with a good cup of tea or coffee.

On behalf of  my fellow cohorts, Adam Dustus , Leslie Moon, Pete Marshall,Chris Galford, Jessica Kristie, Claudia Schoenfeld, Gay Cannon and myself - welcome and enjoy!!!!!

One Stop Spotlight - George Pappas aka GPWriter

George Pappas is a poet, novelist and a life long resident of Southern California. He blogs at Backyard Poetry and can also be found on Twitter @gpwriter. I have met him through One Shot Wednesday. What I like is his honesty and the courage to touch "hot potatoes" with his poems.

George often chooses social, critical or political themes for his poetry and always provides an introduction about how he came to write these. I asked him about this and he answered that he doesn't try to explain the poem in a literal sense. He prefers to explain his motivations for the poem, giving the reader more insight into his creative process. He views the intro as a part of the poem in a sense.

George thinks that Blog Poems should be a multi media experience for the reader and his certainly are! I can highly recommend paying him a visit over at Backyard Poetry

So please sit back and enjoy what George has to share about himself and his motivation, which led to writing this excellent poem he has chosen for One Stop Poetry today

~ Claudia

Since I started writing poetry while a student at California State Long Beach in the 1980s, I strived to create poems that were provocative, and challenge the statusquo in society, politics and life. I feel it is the role of a poet to cover all aspects of living, including writing about controversial ,political ,and religious themes; issues that,unfortunately, many poets avoid. I strive to do this in different and unique ways.  It could be imagining a tourist ad for a tour of Guantanamo Bay detention camp as in my poem “Guantanamo Bay Tour,” or as in my poem “Ethnic Cleansing” musing about an ad campaign for such practices with the tagline: “Bought and sold wherever intolerance is found.”

One poetry class I took in college, which was taught by noted poet Elliot Fried, really had a lasting impact on me. Professor Fried encouraged us to look for poetry everywhere and in everything around us and to think differently about what could be a subject for a poem. He would give us an assignments where we would have to create poems off the page using video, pictures or images.

My following poem “Would the Crucifixion Have Been Televised?” is one such example of  looking for an off beat way to address the troubling state of the TV news business.

I was frustrated and tired with weeks of coverage about the death of JFK Jr.  Each year, it seems, the national press, especially the cable and TV networks, become increasingly myopic in their coverage. This is truly reflected during major news events.  They feature 24/7 coverage of one event or controversy relentlessly covering every angle. Sometimes that is justified as with 9/11, the Iraq war, or JFK’s assassination other times it is questionable as following the death of Pope John Paul and other overblown stories. It is overkill to say the least.

It got me to thinking about how other  historic events such as the Crucifixion might be covered by our modern news industry.

That led to this poem

GP

***

WOULD THE CRUCIFIXION HAVE BEEN TELEVISED?

I wonder if the crucifixion
took place today
would it be televised
non-stop?

Would the plethora of TV cable channels
cover every aspect
of the death
of Christ
on the cross?

Imagine
a press briefing
with Roman officials
explaining their actions.

Think of
profiles on the apostles,
in-depth interviews
with Jesus’ followers
and an exclusive interview
with Judas entitled:
“Why he betrayed Christ: Judas defends himself.”

Ponder the exclusive reports
with those who claim to have witnessed God’s miracles,
including a shocking profile on the blind man
who claims Christ restored his sight.

Or a story on a follower who says to have heard Jesus’ last words
or yet another who saw Jesus walk on water
or still another who witnessed Christ’s resurrection.

That would be followed by
an exclusive feature
on Mary discussing the Immaculate Conception.

This tabloid TV culture
without a doubt would turn the
the Crucifixion
into huge ratings.

All meaning ultimately
lost in the torrent of coverage
nailed relentlessly into
our empty souls and lurid imaginations.

George Pappas
Copyright 2010

Moondustwriter's Thursday -The Duet of Poetry

The Duet of Poetry


What do poets do when they have time on their hands?

Well one of the things we do is Duet!

It is quite fun actually to see what can come on the spot from two poets with different styles.

Many of us duet on Twitter. Each communication becomes a stanza.

This duet with my friend Sean Vessey reminds me of a knight and his lady fair. This poem was impromptu ; there was no plan. I would encourage you to try it. I hope you enjoy the end result. The lady is speaking in the italicized letters in a light contral
to voice and the knight is speaking in his bold and deep baritone voice.

Fair one why do you not speak?

Your flowers have lost their fragrance

My heart is weak 

Oh passionate love moon,

I have missed your heart's blessings,

To enjoy night fantastic

memories loom

I hear your poetic words

a moonlit dance a dream of two

by her golden glow 

I begin to swoon

My voice fair one is yours

for whispers and delights

as lover’s dance 

in Moon's starlights

he hears her whispers  

soft into the misty night

“kiss me my darling

in your dreams hold me tight “

the misty night

is where we play

under star lit moon

until dawning  day

my love please don't sleep

look in my eyes

be captive to love

as time goes by 

look into your eyes my lady fair

I bend for your desires

my love is true

my will to resist you

I cannot do

your  heart I hold in the palm of my hand

I hold it near me

never relinquished

never free 

my heart races to your fair hand

I am yours ~ as a man

bound to your heart

for as long as time stands

I must admit

a spell is cast

to love with you

a lover’s slow dance

the spell is yours

I'm captive it's true

held by passionate sparkling eyes

jewel like eyes of blue

a heart that is bound

faithful and true

magnificent in every way

is what I've found in you 

your gentle grasp

hope, faith, and love

I cannot break

I am yours ~ for all time

Not captive O dear sir

With the moon as witness 

be held tight

of her love be sure 

to be held by one so fair and true

where all dreams ends

for me

for you

my dreams would never die

were I in your arms

my heart would be alive

************

image courtesy creative commons flickr http://www.flickr.com/photos/telemax/2732444627/ 

One Stop Spotlight - Anthony Desmond Scott

Hello everyone, I'm Gay Cannon and I'm so excited to tell you I have joined the @onestoppoetry team.  There are exciting new projects planned for the year ahead and it's an honor to have been asked to join the team in bringing them to you. 

I will be doing occasional spotlights and for my first official one, I want to introduce you to Anthony Desmond Scott.  If it hadn't been for Anthony, you wouldn't be reading this from me, I wouldn't know about poetry online, @onestoppoetry or probably even be writing again. Anthony was my first real twitter friend. I had been looking at twitter more or less as a news feed for many months. Then @MyWordWizard started following Anthony and me at about the same time and we were finishing their prompts. Anthony is in all things curious, and even though he writes deep, sometimes dark and very intense poetry; yet, his disposition is easy going,thoroughly likable, always polite and invariably upbeat.

Anthony discovered blogsites. We both created one and the rest has been a journey in meeting new poets, reading and being read by other poets spurring both of us to read more, write more and to connect.  Because of this I am happy to interview him for the spotlight today.

Anthony, tell us about yourself.

I'm a 19 year old guy with a passion for poetry and music. I've never been the average kid. I've always felt different from just about everyone. Through the years of coming into who I am, I've experienced feeling out of place and such. But with the guidance of my Mother and the will of myself, I learned to embrace all the things I enjoy and love being a true individual.

I know your mother has been a major influence in your life. Tell us something about her.

My mother is the one person who stood by me through everything. She made me the person I am today. My mother's writing evokes her tragic childhood experiences such as sexual and verbal abuse by family members. She could've gone down a destructive path but when she had me at 18 she turned those bad experiences around for the better as a Mom and now as a strong independent woman.

When did you start writing poetry and what and who inspires your writing?

I started writing poetry when I was 16 and fell in love with it. My first complete poem was 'Self'. When I had written that, something clicked inside of me. I knew poetry was my destiny.

Frank Stanford is a big influence for my poems. I love how tragic his poetry was. Yet there was sometimes a small bit of light in the midst of all his pain. I also take inspiration from paintings and music. When it comes down to it, the core of my poetry is the good and bad of life. I express it only in ways that come naturally to me.

I know you were as thrilled as I was to find @Onestoppoetry. What has it meant for you?

I think @Onestoppoetry is amazing because there's no competition, just love. One Stop Poetry gives us so many opportunities to showcase ourselves as the best poet we can be. I appreciate this community and I feel appreciated as well. You can't beat that.

What are you aspirations for the future?

I aspire to be a prolific figure in poetry. After I've lived a long happy successful life, I hope my work will live on and continue to inspire.

I am happy to share these poems of Anthony's with you today.

sElf

I'm staring at a vacant wall full of emptiness

Wondering if I'll finally make it my own

Intimidated by the knives in my soul

Cutting incisions in my flesh

Marking their territory

While hunters tread my grounds

And shoot my guarded veins

My spirit still remains

When the seasons change

Hunters rampage across the bridge

To destroy the light that shines on me

As winter approaches and summer passes

All that's left is a lonely breeze

Hunters put down their rifles

And charge full steam ahead

As pulses of blood rush towards my head

With battle scars resulting as tears

Running out my mind

Next target lies where my memories are confined

My pupils dilate as my eyes

Awaken back to where it began

A wall covered in my deepest secrets

© 2008 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.

DARE

Rats are almost an equal to men, women, & children

Remove our skin cut it from our flesh

So it falls from heights unimaginable

Shells from shots we've fired

Fill our mouths to keep from swallowing our tongues

As they gauge our eyes & roll them in a pond of lava

Rip our legs off right below the knee

So one can't see over this fake fucking mountain &

Dare to make a judgement on who's better

© 2010 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.

'Normal Is No Rule'

Cheap carpet harvested my open pores

Laid to rest everynight in the Sahara

Sand flew in my eyes while I made bold attempts to sleep

I wake up with dirt in my mouth

My spit forms a mudslide

That drains through my intestines

I wish to cough up blood in the midst of

Making an over dramatic statement

In regards to the ratio of too much or not enough love

Questions/Reasons

Perfect ways to get to know the honest form of human

Which came from woman on her back

Soft spoken gentle voices tender touch

So much of what I need

I already want but cannot have

I'll stay on my back

© 2010 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.

You can find Anthony on Twitter @iamEPanthony

His blogsite is http://glassstaircase.blogspot.com

Photography courtesy of creative commons wall Laura Chifirium http://www.flickr.com/photos/lchifi/231115148/

Sands- Alaskan Dude http://www.flickr.com/photos/72213316@N00/4512280393

Friday -One Stop Poetry Featuring Poet Jessica Kristie

With the holidays in the States our schedule is a bit askew. Adam Dustus is off shooting ducks or something so I'm (Moondustwriter) standing in with some fabulous poetry by Jessica Kristie
Just wanted to point out that Jessica is another talented lady who I met on - Twitter. If you aren't there, you should be.

Can you briefly tell me when you first started writing?
I began writing when I was about ten years old.  I was always a very emotionally in-tune little girl, and at an early age searched for some sort of outlet.  I believe I found this venue from a school exercise, then realized immediately it was freeing and very healing.  I wish I could say I have written continuously since then, but it has been off and on with a more consistent run the last five years or so.

What inspires you to write?
I have many inspirations and “processes” for writing.  There is certain music that rings to me as poetry. I play those songs to get me in the mood, and the place I need to be to write. Being a stream of conscious and emotional writer, the flow often needs to be stirred.  I have learned through the years to capture it better and even trigger it more than I was able to in the past.  I also find great inspiration in others writing and will often become inspired by even just a word.  Those moments I love the most and always hope I have a pen and paper close at hand.

What are your hopes and dreams with your poetry?
I just finished putting together my first collection of poetry.  It contains 50 poems and 5 prose poetry works.  I am submitting it to publishers along with a children’s book I wrote, that is currently being illustrated.  I also have a very exciting collaboration I am doing with a photographer. We are collaborating to bring to life a poem I wrote in 11 parts that tells a story.  It is more than just doing a photo to match the words; it is bringing the words out in a unique way. We hope to find a great venue to make it available to the public once it is complete. I am already working on a second manuscript of all prose poetry with hopes to also have it published in the future. 

What is your favorite genre?
Classics always seem to catch my eye from Frost to Neruda, but also find myself attracted to such wonderful poets as Maya Angelou. I continue to find that it is always the romance that pulls me in the deepest. Often it is darker, but romance just the same.  I do hold a place in my heart for the more humorous side of things. It always does me good to laugh and I try to - at least ten times a day.


While e-mailing Jessica,we discovered that we grew up relatively close to each other. My father lived in her home town until his death. We may just have to do a road trip to my favorite city (well one of them) San Francisco. Please enjoy Jessica's fine writing.

Tragedy’s Room

Today I want to put skin around my words

Turn sentences into limbs

And reach across the seas

Finding my way to your door

My blankets of consoling will never do this moment justice

History has been broken

A tear in life’s time table

“Why” lingers at the footsteps you watched from birth

Hands by your side that can’t seem to bring enough healing

This time

Trouble feels so beyond

What you can mend

Warmth can roam

Beyond our flesh

Far past aching bone

It will make its way back

Where darkness looms

Where loss and heartbreak

Now claim this room

Bows break future moments

Pausing time

Covering moons

Lingering in our present

Floating in the in-between

But hands do breathe volumes

When crashing into tragedies door

Look now and know

What strength they hold

Your grip

Your reach

Barriers breaking as we speak

This next poem is inserted into prose that Jessica posted. If you want to read the entire piece, please enjoy it on her blog.

~Nothing~

What poetic justice I weep from my pages

Yet I feel no sense of peace

Painting clouds with my finger tips across
an empty palette

A canvas that mimics hope yet whispers
only dreams

You can’t speak of change

When I Look at you and see the same

You can’t speak of love

When I can’t feel you break through me

I remember when

You speak of nothing

No words

No hope

No difference from one day to the next

Mediocre in this questionable decision

Maybe the hope is within a dream

Or maybe the needle has passed through

Now seamless

The two pieces have become

I remember when you told me

You would not give me up without a fight

When I walked away

You laid down so easy

And still you speak

Of nothing

You can contact jessica @jesskristie

Her blog http://jessicakristie.wordpress.com/

Photography:

Derek Tyson

http://www.flickr.com/photos/derricksphotos/189815067/

Ian Munroe

photograph//www.flickr.com/photos/ian_munroe/4059831412/sizes/m/in/photostream/

Welcome to Moondustwriter Thursday - Featuring Gay Cannon

I met Gay Cannon on Twitter where I have met many incredible writers who have become friends. I liken Twitter to a pub where someone walks in for the first time and doesn't know a soul; a person casually asks "what do you do?" - the next thing you know many of the people at the pub are talking about what they do, who they know, and suggest maybe "so and so" can help with the book or poetry site.

When I met Gay,we just eased into a conversation. She's like that. I never realized  how much we have in common. We obviously both share a love for the written word. She and I both went to University to study the Sciences. After two years, Gay was so in love with writing and literature that she became a Liberal Arts Major.Since then she has taught a class on just about everything.

Gay is quite the story teller. She has written a time travel novel; sadly it coincided with her husband's death. It seems that the novel is stuck on an old inaccessible disk (bet I could find someone on Twitter to help her with that disk.) Gay's husband was a talented man; one of his many accomplishments was being on the team at NASA that made the moon shots possible. Yes - I could go on about this multi-faceted woman.

What inspires Gay to write poetry?: The two subjects that carry her away into the poetry realm are nature and weather; her beloved Texas puts prose at the end of her pen. Gay has a way of making words do what she wants - a poetic magician of sorts. She has published much of her poetry in magazines over the years and hopes to compile all of her poetry into a book. 

I hope you enjoy Gay's poetry as much as I do.  

ENDANGERED

Gliding

Seagulls

Cry

In response to each wave’s spray

Salt

Sea

Tears

For the whooping cranes

That fly from Aransas Pass.

New

Hazy

Night

Why must they leave?

The rhythmic water

Slaps the white sand,

Brown and green reeds

Join all nature to play this symphony.

Can it not preserve the ballet,

These shadowed cranes against

A bone-white porcelain moon?

SYLVANIA

There’s no one as old as we are, sir, or as young.

We ride horses in the forest and their manes stretch away

from us becoming like the trunks of trees.

My husband died and left me feeling not as old

as my grandchild’s birth.

I grab the mane and ride toward youth.

You had no markers in that wasteland to measure out your age.

I think you’re young, as young as when we mounted, sir,

but when I glimpse you now your face folds in against the bone

like knees upon the Cypress trees and still we ride

to a place we know where flowers once would open to the sun

and need no shade.

Then your pace was quicker, sir, and

your face a flower paled by moon.

We seek beginnings in autumn and ride

wild and unbridled now over burnished leaves.

We reach for life and find its span,

aging as the trees we’ve known.

NOCTURNE

I cannot find you in the summer’s leaves,

Or hear your music in the moontime’s song,

The shadow shapes become the faceless breeze.

Across a cubist’s landscape of elm trees,

On midnight’s wave, I hear the steeple’s gong,

I cannot find you in the summer’s leaves.

When emerald stars through satin dreams, increase

Their spell and thus my fantasy prolong,

The shadow shapes become the faceless breeze.

Of velvet indigos, the night then weaves

Its magic carpet that bears me along,

I cannot find you in the summer’s leaves.

In caravels I sail Aegean Seas

And touch the columns that I dance among,

The shadow shapes become the faceless breeze.

At last within my grasp No, it deceives

Me, and I reach to find the vision gone.

I cannot see you in the summer’s leaves,

The shadow shapes become the faceless breeze.

You can read more of Gay's fantastic work here

Tweet Gay when you get a chance @beachanny
Thanks so much Gay for sharing your beautiful poetry.

© Gay Reiser Cannon. All Rights Reserved
Photos courtesy of Flickr:
Dark Seascape: http://www.flickr.com/photos/wonderlane/3103381523/
Wild horses: http://www.flickr.com/photos/bouldair/4963835069/