Rude Awakenings. Press Release. Collected Poems by Gary Beck

 
 
Rude Awakenings is a 112 page poetry collection. Available in paperback with a retail price of $11.99. ISBN 1941058809, and a kindle edition for $4.99. Published by Winter Goose Publishing. Available now through all major retailers. For information or to request a review copy, contact:jessica@wintergoosepublishing.com
 

 
Amazon.com
 
 
Can an artist achieve the American dream without compromising creativity? Can lovers navigate the search of their desires while mourning the loss of past connection? And if the disillusioned accept our world of empty promises, don’t we all lose when that fire burns out? Poet Gary Beck masterfully approaches serious questions of human integrity, as well as the small odd moments our realities may share, in his brilliant new collection, Rude Awakenings.
 
We love your poems – Orchards Poetry
 
Wonderful work – Panoplyzine
 
Imagery and emotion that felt unique yet universal – Paradise Review

 
Featured Poems from Rude Awakenings:
 
i.
 
Faded
 
Dim flame dying
like a senile candle,
a flickering old woman,
crinkled fingers drooping
from large jeweled rings
as she sobs in septic sleep
that no lover’s steps
tread the midnights
of her bedroom.
 
ii.
 
Pilgrim
 
Leaving my land, place, roots,
another strange American
dazed with hungers,
breakfast cereal anticipations
for change, glory, just enough lust
to risk Moloch-belly flames
licking fire at asbestos bones,
spinning and circling a torturous orbit
returning me to beginnings,
stubborn, ruthless, orphan greedy,
playing no more rhymes on my toes, Granpa,
past twiddling, caring about rag clad dreams,
leaving me shivering for survival
from frostbite of vindictive atoms
unseen in the bustling commotion
in the churning harbor of unrest.
 
iii.
 
Two Refrains
 
For in darkness women came
and carried his body away.
The children by the shore of the lake
picked up his bones and followed the barge
and shrieked of the games they’d play the next day.
 
And while the children reveled
greed, our god, cloyed our senses
and ignorance, the priest,
drugged our minds,
leaving us stranded
on confusion’s shore.
 
 
 
 

 
 
Gary Beck has spent most of his adult life as a theater director, and as an art dealer when he couldn’t make a living in theater. He has 12 published chapbooks and 2 accepted for publication. His poetry collections include: Days of Destruction (Skive Press), Expectations (Rogue Scholars Press). Dawn in Cities, Assault on Nature, Songs of a Clerk, Civilized Ways, Displays, Perceptions, Fault Lines, Tremors and Perturbations (Winter Goose Publishing) Rude Awakenings and The Remission of Order will be published by Winter Goose Publishing. Conditioned Response (Nazar Look). Resonance (Dreaming Big Publications). Virtual Living (Thurston Howl Publications). Blossoms of Decay (Wordcatcher Publishing). Blunt Force and Expectations will be published by Wordcatcher Publishing. His novels include: Extreme Change (Cogwheel Press), Flawed Connections (Black Rose Writing), Call to Valor (Gnome on Pigs Productions) and Sudden Conflicts (Lillicat Publishers). State of Rage will be published by Rainy Day Reads Publishing, Crumbling Ramparts by Gnome on Pigs Productions. His short story collections include, A Glimpse of Youth (Sweatshoppe Publications) and. Now I Accuse and other stories (Winter Goose Publishing). His original plays and translations of Moliere, Aristophanes and Sophocles have been produced Off Broadway. His poetry, fiction and essays have appeared in hundreds of literary magazines. He currently lives in New York City.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (Leeds University) .

Advertisement Poem By Wislawa Szymborska

Advertisement – Poem by Wislawa Szymborska
I’m a tranquilizer.

I’m effective at home.

I work in the office.

I can take exams

on the witness stand.

I mend broken cups with care.

All you have to do is take me,

let me melt beneath your tongue,

just gulp me

with a glass of water.

I know how to handle misfortune,

how to take bad news.

I can minimize injustice,

lighten up God’s absence,

or pick the widow’s veil that suits your face.

What are you waiting for—

have faith in my chemical compassion.

You’re still a young man/woman.

It’s not too late to learn how to unwind.

Who said

you have to take it on the chin?

Let me have your abyss.

I’ll cushion it with sleep.

You’ll thank me for giving you

four paws to fall on.

Sell me your soul.

There are no other takers.

There is no other devil anymore.


In Search of the Light | Poems by Indunil Madhusankha

In Search of the Light

Extirpating the Darkness: In Search of the Light 

 

As the radiant sun

struggles to peep through

the fissures in

the fringe of the crests

that stand idyllically

like a pantheon of sentinels

guarding the distant mountain

Awakened by the canorous chirping

of the tiny birdies

I open my window

early in the morning

which gives me a perfect view

of the monastery

located in the vicinity

 

Every day at this time

I see her

immersed in a deep meditation

while strolling barefoot

in the sandy compound

The intense composure of her gestures

reminding me of the  Bhikkunis

depicted in Buddhist scriptures

 

I know well

It was the saffron robe

that once saved her

from her gloomy past

when she used to be

the wife of a man

A merciless drunkard

who battered her

every evening

I can still remember

how she fell on the ground

and wailed miserably

like a vixen

 

Nevertheless,

no longer is she drowned

in the dreadful darkness

Instead she is surrounded

with the gleaming sunlight

Having chosen the righteous path,

the ideal path that leads to the light

 

Glossary

 

Bhikkunis – Fully ordained female monastics or nuns in Buddhism

 

Previously published in the Vol. 7, Issue. I (February 2016) of the journal, The Criterion: An International Journal in English

http://www.the-criterion.com/V7/n1/Indunil.pdf

 

The Land of Serenity

 

There are moments in life

when my mind hurls me into a

whirlpool of frantic thoughts

Having lost control of my faculties

I would rush to the temple premises

 

The cooling sands at the end of

the gravel path

The perfect soothing balm

The yellowish bo leaves lay still

and calm on the yard

though fallen

 

The sizzling yet charming dance

of the leaves in the canopy

teaches me alesson

about the nature of the mind

thus breaking the tranquility

for a moment

 

Under the shade of the giant tree

I would lose myself

in a meditation

The cozy breeze

sweeping the dreaded contemplation

away from me

 

Then I would walk towards

the statue of the Buddha

that stands still

spreading myriads of compassion

towards mankind

Oh, the enlightened one

An innate grace

so enormous to illuminate

a whole world

While putting my hands together

I would go under the knees

and recite the Gathas

 

Finally I would leave

the land of serenity

And I would feel myself

as a newborn

with wings to fly hither and thither

Thus I would attain the relief,

the freedom of mind

 

Oh, may the pristine Dharma bless the entire world!

 

Glossary

Bo   A tree which is a species of fig and is considered sacred by the followers of Buddhism, Hinduism and Jainism

Gathas    Verses or hymns in Buddhism

 Previously published in the Vol. 6, Issue. V (October 2015) of the journal, The Criterion: An International Journal in English

http://www.the-criterion.com/V6/n5/Indunil.pdf

 

 

Build a Cozy Little Room of Mutuality

 

The flourishing of technological wonders

reaching the burning zenith,

at which

everything is  reduced to ashes

Bullets, shells, guns, cannons, bombs, missiles

The worst,

the nuclear and the atomic

Roasted flesh and ashes of bodies

Total annihilation

 

The creator being destroyed by the creation

The crime of self-deception

and that of shameless vanity

Making war is not what we are born for,

but making love is!

So why,

at this full summer and

the flowering season of his cultivation,

still lost in a wrench?

Let it not be true

that man’s greatest enemy is man

 

Use your sciences

to abate and avoid

all these battles

Let the cool of the moon

reign in magnificence,

not the piercing sunbeams

 

Easy, yes, it is to break a stick,

but not a stock of sticks,

for the latter is much stronger

Let it be a metaphor of human strength

 

Living in a small “global village”

why such a delay

to build a cozy little room of mutuality

with modern miracles, mushrooming

 

Previously published in the Vol. 6, Issue. VI (December 2015) of the journal, The Criterion: An International Journal in English

http://www.the-criterion.com/V6/n6/Indunil.pdf

 

 

Indunil Madhusankha is currently an Instructor in the Department of Mathematics of the University of Colombo, Sri Lanka. Even though he is academically involved with the subjects of Mathematics and Statistics, he also pursues a successful career in the field of English language and literature as a budding young researcher, reviewer, poet, editor, content writer and proofreader. His creative works have been featured in several international anthologies, magazines and journals. Moreover, Indunil was nominated for the Pushcart Prize in 2016 by the Scarlet Leaf Publishing House based in Toronto, Canada.

Birthday Poem By Wislawa Szymborska

Birthday – Poem by Wislawa Szymborska
Birthday

So much world all at once – how it rustles and bustles!

Moraines and morays and morasses and mussels,

The flame, the flamingo, the flounder, the feather –

How to line them all up, how to put them together?

All the tickets and crickets and creepers and creeks!

The beeches and leeches alone could take weeks.

Chinchillas, gorillas, and sarsaparillas –

Thanks do much, but all this excess of kindness could kill us.

Where’s the jar for this burgeoning burdock, brooks’ babble,

Rooks’ squabble, snakes’ quiggle, abundance, and trouble?

How to plug up the gold mines and pin down the fox,

How to cope with the linx, bobolinks, strptococs!

Tale dioxide: a lightweight, but mighty in deeds:

What about octopodes, what about centipedes?

I could look into prices, but don’t have the nerve:

These are products I just can’t afford, don’t deserve.

Isn’t sunset a little too much for two eyes

That, who knows, may not open to see the sun rise?

I am just passing through, it’s a five-minute stop.

I won’t catch what is distant: what’s too close, I’ll mix up.

While trying to plumb what the void’s inner sense is,

I’m bound to pass by all these poppies and pansies.

What a loss when you think how much effort was spent

perfecting this petal, this pistil, this scent

for the one-time appearance, which is all they’re allowed,

so aloofly precise and so fragilely proud.

translated from Polish by Stanislaw Baranczak

and Clare Cavanagh

Urodziny

Tyle naraz ?wiata ze wszystkich stron swiata:

moreny, mureny i morza, i zorze,

i ogie?, i ogon, i orze?, i orzech –

jak ja to ustawi?, gdzie ja to po?o???

Te chaszcze i paszcze, i leszcze, i deszcze,

bodziszki, modliszki – gdzie ja to pomieszcz??

Motyle, goryle, beryle i trele –

dzi?kuj?, to chyba o wiele za wiele,

Do dzbanka jakiego tam ?opian i ?opot,

i ?ubin, i pop?och, i przepych, i k?opot?

Gdzie zabra? kolibra, gdzie ukry? to srebro,

co zrobi? na serio z tym ?ubrem i zebr??

Ju? taki dwutlenek rzecz wa?na i droga,

a tu o?miornica i jeszcze stonoga!

Domy?lam si? ceny, cho? cena z gwiazd zdarta –

dziekuj?, doprawdy nie czuj? si? warta.

Nie szkoda to dla mnie zachodu i s?o?ca?

Jak ma si? w to bawi? osoba ?yj?ca?

Na chwil? tu jestem i tylko na chwil?:

co dalsze, przeocz?, a reszt? pomyl?.

Nie zd??? wszystkiego odró?ni? od pró?ni.

Pogubi? te bratki w po?piechu podró?nym.

Ju?c ho?by najmniejszy – szalony wydatek:

fatyga ?odygi i listek, i p?atek

raz jeden w przestrzeni, od nigdy, na o?lep,

wzgardliwie dok?adny i kruchy wynio?le.


I’ll Be Thinking of You


The sun comes up into a quiet sky
and the birds seem to float on by
When the sunlight hits the morning dew
I’ll be thinking of you.

When the wind catches the trees just right
and they sway gently in the soft sunlight.
When the shadows fall grey and blue
I’ll be thinking of you.

When the sun hits the top of the sky
and the day seems to rush on by,
Whenever I see a sky of blue
I’ll be thinking of you.

When the day fades into a setting sun
and the twilight sky has just begun,
when the moonlight seems yellow and blue,
I’ll be thinking of you.

With the sunset comes the nightime sky
and the wispy clouds float on by,
when the stars shine bright and true
I’ll be dreaming of you.

2011 Music by David Michael Jackson and Andy Derryberry in Murfreesboro, Tennessee
Artvilla.com

Girl-with-Cat-and-Dog-Painting….David Michael Jackson