I'm thinking about putting together a collection of poetry. Some years back, when I had a poetry group, we published two small chapbooks, each of us contributing a few poems.
My own collection is a much more daunting project. Trying to choose from thirty years of poems. Geez. I have my favorites, of course, but they may not be for everyone. Do I choose a theme? That might help. Would it be oriented to nature? To people? Love? Loss? Fear? Joy? You can see my problem.
I've been diving into my poetry files, chewing them over and spitting them out. Which is all really procrastination; avoidance of another project.
Some of you may remember that I was writing a cozy mystery, "What Happened to Harry?" Indeed. What happened to him? Well, following my third draft, I was lucky to have an offer from a published mystery writer, Erika Obey, to be a beta reader. She liked it, overall, she even said she felt it was marketable. But, it needs to be longer, and she felt it needs some sharper 'mystery' added to the suspects. Fair enough.
I've been mulling it over for a month now, and so far....nothin'. Haven't touched a page.
But I have submitted several images of artwork to a call for art from a gallery in Albany, and completed a project I shelved three years ago, a photo book on...drum roll...manhole covers. Yes, manhole covers.
It's true that much can be accomplished when avoiding the one task that ought to be worked on; that seems to apply to housework as well. In my case.
Anyway, I came across this poem, when perusing, so here.
Feel free to comment by a quick email or even text @ 845-324-2031.
Babies, puppies, suitcases
I blame winter,
the brown treeless, landscape,
for stealing into my sleep,
shuffling my memory cards,
an unwanted marauder of memory excavation,
bulldozer of reality
impish face of masked consciousness
representing dreams of excess
where there are none to speak of
Babies, puppies, suitcases
former co-workers,
both kind and conniving
small baby feet with plump toes
nails like soft seashells
furry dogs offering their soft comfort
doe brown eyes
packing clothes, folding clothes
seeing clothes
deciding on clothes
which to bring?
Where am I going? Such a universal question
..a very good time was had by all,
on February 13th at Rough Draft Bar and Books, Kingston, NY. for the
Local Author Meet and Greet Event.
Books were sold, new peeps were met, and an old friend showed up, with a big hug, thanks to the notice on this site.
Other new poems posted! Click on Poems tab. Scroll to Life and Times
Tablecloth Nights, is available at The Golden Notebook, Woodstock, NY, Rough Draft, Kingston, NY & Amazon.com
Fern Suess writes, snaps, and makes art.