Infusoria.(The Voyage of the Beagle) poem. audio. Ian Irvine

Audioboo / Infusoria (poem).

 

Having swum in the ocean of stars

calling them Gods—their campfires, their monumental

sorrows, our bliss at a faith-conceived heaven—

we are driven back by heavy gales.

*

Few living creatures inhabit these broad

flat-bottomed valleys, abode of kingfishers

grass-hoppers, lizards—not much else

a ruined fort in a dull brown landscape.

*

Relief to find a small stream threading

clefts of rock, greening, here and there,

otherwise barren soil. Onwards then, to a flat plain

stunted acacias—until a flock of guinea fowl.

*

Anxious panorama of time: jagged cliffs,

lava-rock, distant mountains enveloped in

dark blue clouds. It’s coming: the storm

of the modern. The monkey likes bananas.

*

I’m collecting dust: the air is ion charged,

flashes of lightning, the will to see

the infusoria: African sunsets, the question

of microbes, my lens, my imperfect vision.

*

And then another island—fertile, volcanic

red cinder hills, everything slopes toward the

interior. But I will paddle the rock pools

notice: sea slugs, cuttle-fish all arms and suckers.

*

Having swum in the ocean of stars

we are driven back by heavy gales

It’s coming, the storm of the modern,

anxious panorama of time.

*

The air is ion charged.

***

Ian Irvine Photo

Ian Irvine is an Australian-based poet/lyricist, fiction writer and non-fiction writer. His work has featured in many Australian and international publications, including Fire (UK) ‘Anthology of 20th Century and Contemporary Poets,’ (2008) which contained the work of poets from over 60 nations.His work has also appeared in a number of Australian national poetry anthologies, and he is the author of three books and co-editor of many more (including Scintillae 2012, an anthology of work by over 50 Victorian and international writers and poets). He currently teaches writing and literature at Bendigo TAFE and Victoria University (Melbourne) and lives with fellow writer Sue King-Smith and their children on a 5 acre block near Bendigo, Australia.
 
Links related to his work are as follows:

 
http://authorsden.com/ianirvine

http://www.scribd.com/IanHobson

 
 

robin@artvilla.com
www.facebook.com/PoetryLifeTimes

 


Share and Enjoy !

Shares

There I Sat at Copper’s Point. Poem. Eric Mellen

Lighthouse 2

 

 

 

 

There I sat at Copper’s Point

 My head lowered between my tattered brown britches’ knees.

 My shift was over, (barefoot) watching that lonely lighthouse,

 sandy beige, the same color as my beach hat,

 and then, on the windiest day in September,

 

I remembered.

Zoo.  A delicately conscientious zookeeper’s assistant,

those sunny days, wild you could say.

I ran from cage to cage, feeding–

orange.

tigers, orangutans, monarch butterflies,

all waiting for the feast

and treats

which they got.

Hot.

The team of cheerleaders,

the mist-machines cooled

their cheery faces, sweaty

and sentimentally proportioned.

 

I once gave a rose to one

but was shot down.

Bang!

A thousand thoughts collected into one emotion:

that disparaged rejection.

I knew it only too well.

 

 

The hell, sometimes grieving

sometimes relieving me of the boy

I was meant to be.

And then, there she was.

“Sarah”

was her name, and no rose for her,

not yet anyway.

This time a cool chat

relieving me of my duties.

 

I could go into detail.

But suffice it to say,

all the animals reveled in harmony

with me

that day.

 

“Blue”,

Our love–

oh, the romantics would not have thought

of a more eloquent combination of words to describe it.

 

She died yesterday,

And now I reside in this lighthouse

where we stood alone, and outside the window

I cast a view

and recognize

the “Blue” that is everywhere around me.

***

Bio:  Eric Mellen is a young freelance writer who currently writes poems and short stories.  He has been published by Nostrovia! poetry and is currently pursuing multiple publishing opportunities.  When he is not writing,  he is studying to under the psychology curriculum, and plans to one day become a clinical psychologist.

***

Ellen 2

 www.facebook.com/PoetryLifeTimes
www.facebook.com/Artvilla.com

robin@artvilla.com
editor@artvilla.com

 

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

Prometheus Bound.Frederick.L.Light.Translation.Audio.Jack Nolan.

Prometheus image

Prometheus Bound Aeschylus Translation by F L Light Rapid Traffic Press New York. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book. Prometheus Bound: Translated by F L Light ISBN-13: 978-1477684016 ISBN-10: 1477684018 All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2012 Frederick Lazarus Light, lightforth@gmail.com

*

After Zeus has learned that Prometheus stole his sovereign property, fire, and conveyed it to mankind, he orders Hephaistos, under the direction of Power and Force, to bind his adversary to an arduous crag of most difficult remoteness on the earth. As the Titan responds to this punishment, the reader is inspired with the fire of individual affirmation, devoted indomitably to life and liberty

Prometheus Bound Audio Jack Nolan 15 minutes

*
Persons
Power and Force
Hephaistos
Prometheus
Daughters of Ocean
Ocean
Io
Hermes
*
1
Enter Power and Force, leading Prometheus in chains.
Hephaistos comes with them.
*
Power: Upon the northernmost finalities
Of earth, in Scythia intraversable,
By men untraced, of no man’s realm a tract,
On this sequestered precipice recessed
Alone, we’ve mounted, where, Hephaistos, be
This duty yours, by dictates laid upon
You by the Father: here his shackled lich set fast!
This vaulting overreacher in revolt
With fettered punishment now fasten here
In this immense removedness on high,
Leaving him with adamantine tautness
Reclusely manacled to rock. Your flower,
In every art effectual, lucent fire,
He reaved and to the mortals gave. This fact
Therefore by forfeit to the gods he must
Avow, in shackles schooled to suffer Zeus
And learn in painful awe what lordship is,
Philanthropy disowning in effect.
*
Hephaistos: Force and Power, in the behest of Zeus
You’ve done your part, no longer stayed. But I
Lack mettle, truly loath that ligatures
Upon a kindred deity must be laid
With muscled rigor in this brumal rift
Where winter reigns. But for all that I must
Begin, emboldened by necessity,
By absolute exigencies; for who
May lightly heed the word of Zeus without
Reward? You, of ascendant prospects, son
Of right-proposing Themis, now I pierce,
Against your will and mine, with bronze constraints
Of indissoluble abuse, annealed the best,
Your members to this far recess, reserved
From men, where voice nor form shall human be.
But under Helios, desiccated scathe
2
Beneath his arid glance you’ll bear and lose
The bloom of youth. When Night behind her vestment of
The stars shall veil this blaze, you’ll savor peace,
And when the sun on dawn-frost comes, the thaw
May grateful prove. But everforth abide
In vitiated weariness, effete at length,
For not yet born your liberator is.
Such mede you profit in, philanthropy
Maintaining. Not of Heaven terrified,
Olympian odium never daunted you,
A god among the gods. But honors out
Of measure to the mortal sort you sped.
So this sore ledge you’ll suffer like a ward,
Where insultation is insomnolent
Forever, as you stand in sleepless rue,
Not left to bend your legs. With sacred cries,
Your liefest prayers, lamenting pain, will not
Be heeded. For the head of Zeus in zeal
Is hateful, hardest to his foes. And those
Empowered lately fulsome power inflict.
*
Power: Why tarry here, affecting sympathy
In vain? A god in basest odium deemed
No friend, whom gods detest, wherefore not hate?
Since mortals gracing, mordant grief to you
He meant, your prize betraying, all for men.
*
Heph: Kinship is numinous in creatures, like
Devout companionship not lightly deaded.
*
Power: Indeed. Yet to play deaf impossible
No doubt when Zeus imposes on your will.
*
Heph: The hardiest cruelty never palls on you.
*
Power: No good will come, this god lamenting. Leave
This vanity where nothing you’ll achieve.
*
Heph: How loathsome seems my liefest skill.
*
Power: Why loathe it? Lightly sure, these latest sores
Are not imputed to your sacred forge!
*
Heph: Yet for another would the work had been!
3
*
Power: Unless to rule the gods no labor is
All grace, and none has liberty save Zeus.
*
Heph: I must avow it, in this work enforced.
*
Power: With shackles hasten or be stung by Zeus,
Who will observe you lagging in abuse.
*
Heph: The cuffs are here about me, for him bent.
*
Power: Cast pressure in the chain about his hands.
With hammered concentration maul them in,
Compressive rivets bringing home in rocks.
*
Heph: The work proceeds, not missing in dispatch.
*
Power: Your starkest, sorest stroke! To fasten be
Your stress! Leave nothing loose by limb. He is
Prodigious, legerly deliverance
Seeking, howbeit fixed in boulders fast.
*
Heph: This arm is bound, intractable in bonds.
*
Power: And stitch the other, tack it sure. He’ll learn,
Though for mechanic prudence most renowned,
What little prescience lights his brain compared to Zeus.
*
Heph: In censure of my crafty junctions, none
But he due reprehension might impress.
*
Power: Now put this wedge’s pointed jaw within
His breast, amain to breach it with a blow.
*
Heph: Remorse, Prometheus, I avow for thee.
*
Power: Again condolences aloud in dole!
Again you dote on the Olympian’s foe.
Erelong, you might, bethink you, mourn yourself.
*
Heph: The sight you mark upon your eyes should smart.
*
Power: I see him patient, duly pained, with dole
Proportioned. Now his loins with girdles lap.
*
Heph: It must be done, but instantly your charge
Is overhard, on duty to enlarge.
*
Power: Behests be heard. I’ll bid you harder. Goads
Should bite. Now bending down, encompassment
About his legs begin, with links intent.
*
Heph: In present see the bronze is wrought, in fine
Perfected, without much mechanic pain.
4
*
Power: But with your sorest strength these rivets strike.
Our critic in this work is rigorous.
*
Heph: Your leer and tongue alike are loathable.
*
Power: Be then regardlessly not tough, but leave
Tendentious constancy to me nor grudge
What moody dourness may be mine in Power.
*
Heph: Let’s go. The wrap about his limbs is wrought.
Exit Hephaistos.
*
Power: Go profligate yourself forever here,
To men, as evanescent as ephemeral,
The prizes meant for gods conveying. Will
Your muscled dolors fall away by mortal hands?
You were, Prometheus, by the gods misnamed,
For now a true promethean you require
To set you from this fabrication free.
(Fxeunt Power and Force.)
*
Prometheus:
O aerial mercy all for life on earth,
O swiftest taking wing, you sudden winds,
O mobile rivers melted from the hills;
O roundge of Ocean risible in scope to rise
Like cacchination on a shore; 0 Earth
Omnimaternal, and thou god in ken
Of all, by sight to compass land and sea,
Lord Helios; thus I cry you, crucified
By gods, observe the torture I abide.
Behold, embodied with indignities
To bear this teen, millenia timed, a doom
Allotted, eldritch hourly whilst I howl.
Such is the bondage, abject sacredly,
That this new master of Olympians has
For me discovered. Pheu, pheu, everforth
To pine as now in pain, and thus I moan,
No term foretelling of the dire at length
Ordained, in full extended to the fine.
5
What’s this I say? All that shall be, I’ve known
Betimes correctly, never to abye
A sudden daunt. So with the lightest grace
Of patience left to me, this fated dole
I must support, aware a sacred force,
Necessity, will not be checked. I can
Neither bear silence nor unsilenced truth
Sustain about my lot. This falls by me
Because I granted fiery guerdons to
Mankind; this yoked affliction, over me
Enforced, ensues therefore. By Zeus unseen,
My trace was furtive to the source of fire.
A fennel stalk I filled therewith. For men
Didactic light then blazed, all daily arts
Evoking, and a mighty furtherance
To them it proved. For such a peccant fact
I’ve earned this pain, here overborne, constrained
Under the pervious skies with perceant nails.
Eala, ea, ea!
What sound by wing, what scent would come about
Me, not perceived by form? Is it divine
Or human or a cross of both? Upon this rock,
Peripheral afar, what advent might
Ascend in search of pain to see me peak?
Or what in meaning might proceed? Alas,
In gyves behold me girt, a god benign,
My fate abusive, to the Father Zeus
A foe, by all in loathing held that haunt
The sovereign’s hall, for having charity
Too much on men conferred, with love confirmed!
Pheu, pheu, the whirring hither, once again
I hear it, likely of a flock. Upon
Their flicker, lightly vibrant, now the air
Reverbs. But fear ensues, whatever comes.
*
The daughters of Oceanus on a winged car come forth.
Chorus:
6
No dread avow. Our advent, drawn
By love, this ledge surmounted. Leagued
In flight, a winged agon we maintain.
Our father’s leave uneathe we have.
With all traversing speed, at length
In Zephyr’s hand, ascent continued.
In depths recessed beneath our dome of caves
The clang of ferric clatter could
Be heard. Our deepest pudor, verecund
In Ocean, was effaced, affrighted thence
Thereby. And thus unshod, ascending
On this car, we shot to you.
*
Prometheus:
Aiai, aiai,
Of breeder Tethus, of prolific geneses
In broods of goddesses, you all are born,
Of Father Ocean, whose insomnolent
Domain of currents the circumference
Of earth completes, conducive to all tides.
Observe me, by these fetters see
How on the uppermost abyss of earth
I am held fast, the bleakest watch enduring.
*
Chorus:
I see, Prometheus; and upon mine eyes,
In spread suffusion like a mist, now tears come
forth,
Since under this embodied adamant
You’re bound to waste on these chasmatic rocks,
In caitiff insultation cadent seen.
For on Olympos the new helmsmen lead,
Where Zeus, with novel laws, would reign
Perforce awry; and what held good
Before in prime has been dissolved like death.
*
Prometheus:
If he precipitated into depths
Below terrestrial bournes myself in bonds
7
As low as Hades, loathly hosteler
Of liches in the earth, where Tartarus
Unpierced incarceration keeps, then no
God in malignant gloating or none else
Would at these wretched throes look down on me.
But now a hapless bauble for the winds I am
And grieve as much as Zeus rejoices at my grief.
*
Chorus: Gruffest in exultation, hardest grown,
Which god is pleased to see it? Who would not
Condole your subject dolor, who but Zeus?
A god too wreakful to surcease revenge.
By toughest constance the Titanic kind
He’d quell. Surcease before satiety
This god allows not till another’s hand
May his unseizable domain command.
*
Prometheus:
The time ensues, assure you soon or late,
Though here in twist the bonds are tied,
For torture binding with each turn,
When He, that marshal of the blessed,
Shall suffer need, myself in prayer
Seeking about the latest plot,
How it would shift him from the throne
And sceptre. Then his sweetest spell
Of sugared cant will savor ill,
Not win me over. Shall I then
Before his menace quail or at
Monitions tell? These violent gyves
Must be dissolved, and guerdons, just
In godly recompense, he must
Be willing to convey before
He learn the secrets of my lore.
***

F L Light in three categories of poetry has produced most of his work:

In epic his original works are Fighter Herakles Perforce, Shakespeare Undiminished, The Woman of Venereal Furies, A Book of Girds for Bob Giroux, and Cleopatra’s Kingdom of Idolatry. These are all in sonnets written. His translated epics are The Iliad in 1823 sonnets, and the Argonautica, about seven hundred sonnets.

In drama, he has written twenty eight dramas, all in his own form of Greek tragedy. Twenty four of them comprise the Gouldium, a series about Jay Gould and his enemies.

Light has also translated six Greek tragedies, four of which have been produced for Audible.

Light has published about thirty five books of couplets, most of them on economics. Shakespeare Versus Keynes is now in production for Audible.

Buckle &, Lucid Rhythms, Raintree Review, International Poetry Review, Cowboy Poetry Press, Mobius, Hrafno, and Troglodyte are some of the magazines he has appeared in.

****
***
robin@artvilla.com
editor@artvilla.com

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

Why. Poem. Sonnet. David J Delaney.

 

New morning sun brings forth her warming rays

while dying leaves drift gently to the ground.

Approaching winter soon will dampen days,

when ice will hang from barren trees abound.

Korea’s changing beauty I have seen,

penned every scene for all the world to read.

I miss so much your sparkling eyes of green,

while for your love, my heart again will bleed.

 

The freezing snow will cover all that lives

I hope I will survive this daily fight.

A priest once said that Jesus Christ forgives,

though what I do, he could not see as right.

My helmet sits upon my weary head ─

My rifle, now replaces pencil lead.

***

For my Uncle, Lawrence George Delaney, 1st Battalion RAR, who served in Korea.

***

Here is a short bio for you:

Now in my late 50’s I left school at 15 years old. Only 3 months after “making” grade 8 has been in many ways a drawback involving my literary goals as I only starting “writing” in late December 2007 and has been a huge learning curb for me, I am still tackling how verbs, adjectives, nouns, syllables, etc, work.

As a award winning poet, and recently a memoir/short story writer, I have had wonderful support, in Cairns , Queensland , Australia and worldwide. My love for writing and the impact it has on everyday people, has, definitely been an inspiration to continue with something I honestly enjoy, and, if I inspire one person to write and or showcase their work, then I have done my job. 

David J Delaney
Internationally published Australian Poet.

 

 

 

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

Pimp Shoes. Poem. Sonnet. Phillip Fried.

 

 

Did I mean to stalk the streets in cothurni? Shit, no.
I just failed to foresee the precarious vaudeville wobble
as the head with its chorus surveys what’s unsteady below,
its kibitzing voices tsk-tsking a double hobble

(another fine mess chalked up to clueless hubris),
hands groping for balance but looking as if I would break
into patter-song: oh hamartia, convivial riff.
And a fool might truly say, he’s a dupe of the Fate

that dogs the consumer, scammed with apotheosis
and the heady allure of a glowing ocher toe cap.
But watch me teeter in glory, a pimp Oedipus,
eyes level with second-floor shops for Pedi-Mani.

Elevation was my downfall, catastrophe
my rise. And my marrow’s red honey—fear, pity.

 

 

“Pimp Shoes” by Philip Fried was published in Cohort [Salmon Poetry, Ireland, 2009.

 

Philip Fried (1945― ), earned a B.A. in English at Antioch College, an M.F.A. in Poetry at the Writers Workshop, University of Iowa, and a Ph.D. in Literature at the State University of New York, Stony Brook. On writing sonnets, he has this to say, “I draw inspiration from the sonnet’s origins to update it for the Digital Age. Linked from its earliest days to legal proceedings and a modern psychology of conflicted love, the sonnet held together what wanted to fly apart. I have re-conceived the contemporary sonnet as an arena where fragments of self and samples of lingo play off against one another.” His poems have appeared in such journals as Beloit Poetry Journal, New Orleans Review, Partisan Review, Paris Review and Tin House. The most recent of his five published books of poetry is Early/Late: New and Selected Poems (Salmon Poetry, Ireland, 2011), which was called “skillful and memorable” by Publishers Weekly.

 

This sonnet is pre-published with the permission of the Editor-in-chief from:Richard Vallance, editor-in-chief. The Phoenix Rising from the Ashes: Anthology of sonnets of the early third millennium = Le Phénix renaissant de ses cendres : Anthologie de sonnets au début du troisième millénaire. Friesen Presse, Victoria, B.C., Canada. © 2013. approx. 240 pp. ISBN Hardcover: 978-1-4602-1700-9 Price: $28.00 Paperback: 978-1-4602-1701-6 Price: $18.00 e-Book: 978-1-4602-1702-3 Price: TBA

 

300 sonnets & ghazals in English, French, Spanish, German, Chinese & Persian. Selected sonnets are pre-published by our permission in Poetry Life & Times (UK) which has exclusive sole rights prior to the publication of the anthology itself. Readers may also contact Richard Vallance, Editor-in-Chief, at: vallance22@gmx.com for further information. http://vallance22.hpage.com/

***

robin@artvilla.com
editor@artvilla.com

 

 

 

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

‘A Busy City…’ Poem. Scott Hastie.

 

A busy city,

Far from home.

 

 

Onrushing,

The teeming crowd,

A tsunami of sorts.

 

And as you walk on into the melee,

As it comes to you,

For the briefest, sweetest of moments

To catch the eye,

To share a smile,

To touch the soul of a stranger

You may never see again.

 

This is as it should be.

 

The often cavernously empty

Business of life will always

Occasionally be overwhelmed by truth.

For the restless soul hungers for such moorings,

Such absolute points of recognition

Gifted by love,

By light shared with others.

 

But such chances come and go so suddenly

That what was once so recent, so vivid

Already seems so distant and long ago.

 

What then,

If not still true to your heart?

 

Only swamped I fear.

Lost on a surging tide,

Swept back to faceless oblivion,

To the ruin of indifference to start again…

 

© Scott Hastie 2012. All rights reserved.

 

 I am a full-time writer and poet, based in the UK– fortunate enough to be living and working in tranquil surroundings of the English countryside, some twenty miles north of London.

 My poetry looks to positively explore human potential, with an emphasis on love, spiritual growth and self awareness. It is very important to me that my work remains as open, accessible and as simply expressed as possible. My influences vary from the great traditional English visionary romantics through to the distillation of thought and leanness of expression offered by the Japanese haiku tradition and later technical breakthroughs achieved by leading Scottish concrete poets, Ian Hamilton Finlay and Edwin Morgan.

 

Sparkling new poems & images at www.scotthastie.com

***

robin@artvilla.com
editor@artvilla.com
 

 

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

Still Life. Poem. Sonnet. Annie Finch

 

 

vermeer Girl with an Earing

 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Girl_with_a_Pearl_Earring

A sunny afternoon, think of Vermeer.

Here is the apple, here the rounding side

of the blue pitcher. On the scrubbed wood just here,

she puts the pitcher down, so that the slide

of drops against its lip catches what light

there is for pitchers here this afternoon.

She does not really see the drops, or quite

attend the blue. A common thing. But soon

the tide will turn, and salty smells will rise

to circle in the street, and to her ears

will come the voices. Then doorways to her eyes,

then other days than this afternoon’s years.

She will stop to hold this moment near,

and drop the pitcher, and betray Vermeer.

***

Annie Finch is a highly acclaimed, widely published, and extremely gifted American sonneteer, whose complete biography and literary career are to be found by searching “Wikipedia Annie Finch”. Her inimitable sonnet, “Still Life”, which we republish here, has previously appeared countless times in poetry anthologies and books, journals in print and E-zines. Annie Finch is also a highly reputed poetry and sonnet critic.

This sonnet is pre-published with the permission of the Editor-in-chief from:Richard Vallance, editor-in-chief. The Phoenix Rising from the Ashes: Anthology of sonnets of the early third millennium = Le Phénix renaissant de ses cendres : Anthologie de sonnets au début du troisième millénaire. Friesen Presse, Victoria, B.C., Canada. © 2013. approx. 240 pp. ISBN Hardcover: 978-1-4602-1700-9 Price: $28.00 Paperback: 978-1-4602-1701-6 Price: $18.00 e-Book: 978-1-4602-1702-3 Price: TBA

300 sonnets & ghazals in English, French, Spanish, German, Chinese & Persian. Selected sonnets are pre-published by our permission in Poetry Life & Times (UK) which has exclusive sole rights prior to the publication of the anthology itself. Readers may also contact Richard Vallance, Editor-in-Chief, at: vallance22@gmx.com for further information. http://vallance22.hpage.com/

 ***

robin@artvilla.com
editor@artvilla.com

 

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

VI.Sonnet.Poem.Barbara Crooker

 

300px-Jan_Vermeer_-_Girl_Reading_a_Letter_at_an_Open_Window

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Girl_Reading_a_Letter_at_an_Open_Window

 

One word, and then another, falls in line

like geese wedging their way down the sky,

a vast scroll of paper yet unwritten. I

Roll a sheet in the typewriter, and begin

again, to try and pin down what’s elusive,

some insistent bird that whistles from a bush,

Here, here, here I am,” then vanishes,

while I am left to struggle with the narrative.

Like “Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window”,

I wish the light would flood in from the left,

paint me slickly gold, tell me what comes next.

But I am in the dark, no map, no text,

just following my heart as night falls soft,

covers us with her obsidian wing.

 

VI” by Barbara Crooker. “Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window”. The reference is to the painting of the same title by Dutch painter, Johannes Vermeer (1632-1675). See also “Still Life”, by Annie Finch.

 

Barbara Crooker’s sonnets have appeared in magazines such as The Schuylkill Valley Journal, riverrun, Poets On: and Fringe. Largely a free verse writer, she believes that sonnets are another tool in the writer’s paintbox. Her work has been widely anthologized, in places like Poetry: an Introduction (Bedford/St. Martin’s) and Good Poems for Hard Times (Garrison Keillor, editor,Viking Penguin). Her book, Radiance, was winner of the 2005 Word Press First Book Award, and Line Dance (Word Press, 2008), won the 2009 Paterson Award for Literary Excellence. Her forthcoming book Gold. Barbara Crooker appears (2013 or 2014) in the Poeima Poetry Series of Cascade Books, a division of Wipf & Stock. Website: www.barbaracrooker.com

 

This sonnet is pre-published with the permission of the Editor-in-chief from:Richard Vallance, editor-in-chief. The Phoenix Rising from the Ashes: Anthology of sonnets of the early third millennium = Le Phénix renaissant de ses cendres : Anthologie de sonnets au début du troisième millénaire. Friesen Presse, Victoria, B.C., Canada. © 2013. approx. 240 pp. ISBN Hardcover: 978-1-4602-1700-9 Price: $28.00 Paperback: 978-1-4602-1701-6 Price: $18.00 e-Book: 978-1-4602-1702-3 Price: TBA

 

300 sonnets & ghazals in English, French, Spanish, German, Chinese & Persian. Selected sonnets are pre-published by our permission in Poetry Life & Times (UK) which has exclusive sole rights prior to the publication of the anthology itself. Readers may also contact Richard Vallance, Editor-in-Chief, at: vallance22@gmx.com for further information. http://vallance22.hpage.com/

 ***

robin@artvilla.com
editor@artvilla.com

 

Share and Enjoy !

Shares