First, I love blackberries. Last year i bought a small container with a small branch and leaves trying to me a blackberry plant. It grew a bit, had a couple buds and produce one blackberry not was not confiscated by bird or whatever. The plant went on to barely survive.
Moved it to the fence and this spring it came alive in abundance. In this photo taken today you will note it's height and the abundance of buds and flowers coming out. I believe this is the beginning of a success story.
I THINK ALL WRITERS DO THIS-
So, what writer has not been reading along in someone else's work and all of a sudden read a line and go, "WOW! I wish I had written that!"
Several of my favorite writers have books that. have a few such lines in the. I have started reading Susan Rich's book Gallery Of Postcards And Maps, published by Salmon Poetry. I am not deep into this book yet, I have been reading it kind of slow to savor the bits of language. Here are however a few of the gems from the book thus far...
Today my mood is sad. In part because due to the Uvalde, Texas shooting but also for some friends in need of a miracle as well.
P.S. wrote a poem about the aftermath of the shooting.
#LinesIwishIwrote. #Mood @susanrichpoet. #Blackberries
This is not a book review. But I suppose it could be classified as an introduction review. Gallery of Post Cards and Maps by Susan Rich arrived yesterday. I have read a few poems in it and intend to sit down with it later today again to read.
I read the forward written by Ilya Kaminsky yesterday as soon as the book arrived. The words Kaminsky close to describe both the collection of works and the poet herself wove an extraordinary image that caused me to rethink the whole concept of forwards to poetry collections.
Honestly, I've read nothing this compelling as a forward, ever in a poetry collection. I have now Susan Rich for probably more than a decade, read several of her books, and know well the many strengths Kaminsky argues that she brings to her work. He even reminded me of things about her that I had forgotten.
Susan Rich is indeed a well traveled poet. I would consider her among many other things, an international poet. She has the gift of opening up parts of the world like they were a bud on a flower steam. Her work is full of imagery and often surrealist content.
I'm anxious to continue my journey with Susan through this gallery of postcards and maps in her poetry.
#forward #Surrealist #worldpoet
Sometimes you stick your head up out of the ground. You look around and you know where you are, but you still feel as tough you are lost.
I'm lost. The person in me is lost. My hope is that it is temporary but at my age, every day lost is invaluable, therefor such days are costly.
I have several projects underway including a manuscript. I'm trying to stay busy in my current condition, but it is like being without a compass. This week especially has been like that. My creativity is not being nourished.
Besides that, I recently made a very big decision. One that will challenge me mentally, physically and emotionally. But right now, right here today I am at an emotional ebb. That is to say my emotions are rolling out to sea and may soon be cast about. Will there be that emotional support? Will there be that outreached hand?
If the little fellow above looks bewildered or scared, then he could definitely be me. It might be that black hole that I sink back into.
tags: #compass #emotional #lost
I admit that I have a soft spot in my heart for geese. Actually, that holds true for birds in general. I find it. fascinating that geese seem to move oddly on the ground, but the good Lord created them with a magnificent ability to maneuver around mid air. What they lack on the ground the make up for in flight.
This photo was taken across from an earlier. home in. which they often graced me with their presence. Sometimes in great numbers.
There is lots to take in these days. All round us, locally and globally, and any more global impacts us more than ever.
For a poet, there is a busy field of vision before me. It's like a whole slue of different species of birds dive bombing and soaring past me. There is Russia with wings, and Ukraine flying in circles around each other.
There is the byproduct of the war in Europe which is rising fuel costs flying. high everywhere, and that is leading the price of most everything else upward.
There is Buffalo. Normal was going on and suddenly it turned to tragedy. But what we now know is that the acts of a gunman had been in the works for some time. Percolating in his head and and journals. It was a special kind of hate brewing. It was the kind that operates solely upon the fact someone is different than you and it is because of that difference, nothing else about them matters. Not the fact they both need air to survive, that both need food and hydration, that both speak the same language that they are otherwise normal except for difference in color, or the difference of religion counter the fact that they are both human beings.
Some people say that this kind of hate is predicated on fear. Some ignorance. I suspect it is some of both. I think that there are people who are afraid of what the future hold, and that fear is predicated on imagining what it is like to be a white minority in America.
But there are people, politicians included, practically almost the whole of one political party and people like Tucker Carlson that are telling these people they are being replaced. Replaced by outsiders, Non-Americans and this is being deflected onto blacks, latinos, muslims, asians, etc.
People like the Buffalo shooter feed off this stuff. They justify this hate and their actions against innocent persons.
As a poet, sometimes I want to close my eyes, but I can't.
The war crimes against Ukrainian civilians - women and children are horrific and I cannot turn my head away. Ukraine has found its way into a lot of my poetry lately. I imagine it will continue to do so for a while.
I am anxious to write happy Ukrainian poetry though.
Michael Allyn Wells - notes & musings