The Coyotes Are Celebrating now on Carmina

Entering Lindisfarne (2016) by Clarabelle Miray Fields

 
Before anything else, my deep thanks to Ann Christine Tabaka (aka @TabakaChris and Irene Søde Josefson, Ann Christine for helping me with my crafting and Søde for encouraging me to write poetry.

I’ve mentioned several times I don’t consider myself a poet. It is one of the most challenging forms to me, especially when I write something and am told it doesn’t meet any poetry standards.

“Well, I didn’t know such existed. Forgive me for attempting anything new.”

I shared my poetry with Søde and she immediately wanted to know where I’m published.

“Umm…I’m not.”

“Then get published!” she cried, and I was off…

…to Ann Christine with the said The Coyotes Are Celebrating and asking how to make it better.

“It’s pretty good as is. I wouldn’t change much.”

And she didn’t. And it got published. And Hooray!

 
You can read The Coyotes Are Celebrating in Carmina’s Sept 2022 issue. It also appears early in this blog’s history here.
A always, let me know what you think, and thanks.

Pouring, Pouring Out

I’ve written repeatedly poetry is not my go-to form and still they come unbidden.

Let me know what you think.


Pouring, Pouring Out

 
Bright Light.
She couldn’t get over how bright.
Not painful, just amazing.
She remembered some movie, some furry little thing shouting “Bright Light! Bright Light!”
Was that a Furbie? A troll? A little shit? Some kind of televidic excrement?
Didn’t matter.
But this light.
Where was she?
She couldn’t remember.
What was the last thing she could remember?
She laughed.


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Can you come up with a title for this?

I finished editing The Inheritors 12 June and it’s now out with some first readers.

After completion, I cleared things off my desk.

Kind of an archaeological dig, that.

One excavated piece follows. It’s not a short story, not a tone poem, and is framed like a poem.

Let me know what you think. Also, if you have any ideas for a title, please share.

Thankee!


My ancestors
kept lighthouses
to guide ships at sea
safely to harbors,
their bounty to share.

My people
light the skies
of night
hoping that one ship
piloting the cosmos
will return to save us.

The seas gone,
the forests no more,
no animals other
than man,
this rock our home
abhors.

Flee, they said.
Flee, they called
from far away,
their great ships ready
to save us.
Their price a change in our ways.


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Poetry Workshop 4

I continue sharing my attempts at poetry written during a workshop I took. This is from the last class in the series. You can read my efforts in classes 1, 2, and 3.

Continuing with his previous methodology, the teacher gave us one liners to build upon.

Unlike my previous methodology, my first effort is okay. Not great, more than meh!, basically acceptable. My second effort speaks for itself and hearkens back to my opening comments in the first class.

First up, a rift on “Waiting on the vaccine,” something present on everyone’s mind in January 2021.

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The second theme to build upon was “Hard times come again no more.”

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And so I leave you, perhaps better understanding why poetry is not one of my GoTo forms.

Poetry Workshop 3

I continue sharing my attempts at poetry written during a workshop I took. You can read my efforts in classes 1 and 2.

The teacher again gave us one liners to build upon. Our first effort also had rhyming as a constraint, the second one was constrained only by a single word from our immediate surroundings.

As with my previous first efforts, this first effort is meh! but not as meh! as class 2‘s first effort. I read my second effort to the class and again received kudos from other students and the teacher.

First up, a rift on “I went to the rock to hide my face” and note, this is also a hymn lyric and can be found in popular song.

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Now, the poem which received kudos from teacher and fellow students. We were told to take a single thing from our surroundings and build on it. I look out over a woodland and a raven landed on our porch railing as we were given this task. I took Raven as my inspiration.

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Read the fourth class’ meanderings.