The book is bound.
The spine is riveted with glue.
The glue is not marrow, or flour,
but the calcium of grief.
At first, the spine begins to fray –
persecuted by well-read tears.
Now is the time of semper:
The long atom between day
and night when lovers pronounce kiss.
Then the book unbinds as love
unbuttons its petal stomacher.
At last, the Fall of the scattered page.
Soon there is only Fingal,
lost in his brief library
as the day comes to incarnadine.
(C) All Rights Reserved
A tide of writerly emails swamps my inbox each day. Everyone has advice on how to write and how to write better and how not-to-give-up-when-everyone-hates-your-work and here’s some literary flash fiction. Here’s some atrocious flash fiction from somebody you accidentally followed. Here’s a Ted Talk. Here’s some poetry. Here’s this new author, that new agent. […]
A painter can be identified by the strokes of the brush, choice of colours, subjects, etc. and it all becomes part of their style. The same thing goes for a writer. A writer’s style is based on the choices we make in the text, what we decide to put at the forefront of our […]
When April 1st came along, and I remembered GloPoWriMo, my first thought was, Oh, of course I can’t participate this year. I was in shock from the sudden school closures and the transition to work-from-home, and I was exhausted from two weeks of overwork. Then I realized: this is what poetry is for. If I […]
via Aimless: Writing Poetry in a Pandemic — Cathy Tea’s SimLit Anthology
Creating something, whether it be a sculpted vase or a published novel, is done only by believing in yourself. The you who’s you through and through. Leave ego at the door, pack up a nice buckled suitcase full of clothing and send it on its way. Simply be you and don’t be afraid to express […]
via (How and Why) #writing #poetry #indieauthor #inspiration — blankpagesofmine
Many reading series have gone to ground during the COVID-19 crisis. A few have moved online. Many are hungry for poetry during this difficult time. I’m aware of the following ones. If you know of others, please fill out my contact form or comment below.
via May 2020 Online Poetry Readings Based in Massachusetts — Garden of Words
1st May 2020 News to catch up on from the first day of May. What’s been happening? Much of the same, sadly. But, we have now apparently passed the peak and deaths should now be on the decline. Let’s hope so. In the last few days Natasha and I have kept up with our keep […]
I need to turn off the news I need to turn off my phone I need to go breathe some green air I need to sit softly alone I need to get off social media (this has been true for some years) All it does is add oil to the fire and inflame the red […]
by Dene Dryden. Originally published in the Oct. 2019 edition of Live Ideas. Find it here. Rachel Howzell Hall’s Land of Shadows and its sequels make up a fairly new addition to the black detective fiction genre, published and set in 2014. Elouise “Lou” Norton is a black, female homicide detective in Los […]
via Article: Contextualizing “Land of Shadows” as a Postrace Black Detective Novel — Live Ideas
Story of minority , hidden from the “reality”
Stay in, stay apart, stay away,
As the news flashed,
Chills went though the heart.
Mind rushed, as
Panic mode activates.
Day and night, updates flow out.
No pay, no money no nothing, everything dries out!
No food, the shops ran out
No home, the lessee kicked us out
Mother calls day in and day out
Where are you, come home now,
Making ama cry her heart out!
We need to go back, figure this out, as
Our battle has ended in a rout!!
We grabbed food, some clothes for the way.
She slipped on her slippers,
Buckled herself,
Strapped our son close to her.
And we take off.
No vehicles in sight, flight?
Nevermind, it has been far from our reach!
Thanking god for these strong feet each,
We walked, stopped, breastfed,
Restarted, stopped, fed on noodles, biscuits
My hopes killed with every stop
Nights fall in, if lucky shelter a tree, or blacktop it will be
Rain falls in we shelter again below a tree
Choose the jungle’s path, primarily, As
Tigers, bears, wolves, concerned us least
Cold, hunger and despair were the real beast!
We passed through a village today
Stomach rumbled, our agony on display!
Like a rain to a farmer, echoes a voice,
” where do you come from?” the angle said
“kathmandu, hajur”
Asked us wait, calls his wife,
She comes out with plate full of rice.
And says “He has yet to bring out milk for your son”
Grateful as we were, our words went shy.
Offered our thankful namaste with tearful eye
Recommence the journey,
7 days in, pass the half way, nearly
All we had was 1 pack of noodle, and
A 100rs bill and that was that.
Today we were accompanied
With people with similar pain and stories.
We all were afraid to be stopped
Via the uniform
Now and then we hide or flee, it was the norm.
To avoid it, we walked through the jungle
Pass through creaking bridge, as river flows under.
Bloody feet, was paid no heed
One after another, passes day after night.
We don’t even have bones for us to eat.
We licked the salt, chewed the sugar.
And finally we entered another village.
To beg for food shamelessly.
One more jungle, one more town and this last turn,
Reaching my home, place I was born.
The words spread that we had made
Closer I am, restless I get
Jittery like a child anticipates his gift.
There stood my ama, like my dreams had potrayed.
Old lady, looked worried, thin and in pain
With eyes full of fears, replaced now with happy tears
Her magical touch, removed my anguish and horror.
At last, all of us together!!
We had no money, no nothing
But we have a house, bright with light that we can lit
Stomach warmed with food, and body has quilt
Heart overwhelmed with love that we have built.
Finally inside the home, back with our shield!
We washed away our body’s dirt, blood and sweat.
Realising we earn our daily wage with all this,
For most others have it a lot better!
Please be grateful
As you look and hear about people like us
People surviving below the line, We’re:
Thrown out of homes,
Neglected by nation,
Gone through hardship
And we learnt our lesson,
That a mere virus had no way of killing us, as
Hunger and poverty will take us first.
-Kaushika Acharya (K. A)
Story of Nepal, and people below the poverty line.
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