Tag Archives: poems

Welcome to the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour! #RRBC #RWISA – D. L. Finn @DLFinnAuthor

The Poetry of D. L. Finn

POETRY by D. L. Finn

ICICLES 

The icicles dangle downward

Reaching for the substantial snow

Each drop bringing them closer

As the landscape merges into itself

It is silent in its existence

Until a raven reveals itself

Wondering what’s in the trash

Yet, the moment remains peaceful

Sitting and surveying in the chill

An instant promising potential

When there is no celerity

When crackling fires call

When surroundings are concealed

Soon, the renewal will be revealed

But now it’s the stage of contemplation.

For sustenance

For solace

For soul

To live on our abundance of the past

This is the gift of the snow

When we can replenish our hearts

In the silence of the icicles.

 

 

 

 

FREEDOM (Musings from the back of a Harley)

The freedom of the blue skies

Welcome us warmly back

Our path is asphalt

Our vehicle a mechanical horse

Our guide is the wind

Lush green walls soar

The sun illuminates the way

Oaks are waking up after a long nap

And I…

I fill my soul

With nature’s flowering renewal

Bursting with beauty and abundance

In the freedom of spring.

WHERE THE RIVERS MEET
Roaring white, pounding the granite

Swirling, swelling, splendor

The air is heavy with anticipation

It blows over me like a lover’s touch

Filling my heart with sweet floral ecstasy

I relax into the experience

Each breath carries away my worries

My eyes fill with abandonment

As the rushing liquid serenades me

Singing the praise of this paradise

Until the different directions converge

After a brief resounding rumble

They combine and continue on their way

Leaving the moment where the rivers meet.

 

OCEAN

As I sit perched up high on our lanai

Comfortable on my recliner in the shade

The ocean draws my gaze

Its sapphire and emerald water calls me

While the blue pool floats in its space—uninviting

I hear the sea’s song as it smashes onto the shore

The surfers ride its motion

The snorkelers gaze into its depth

And the swimmers float on its perception

Our attraction is undeniable

Opposites: one of air, one of water

It beckons, and I must respond

Offering myself up to the hidden world

Under the cerulean summon

I answer, embracing the ocean completely.

 

Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour today!  We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.

We ask that you also check out their books in the RWISA or RRBC catalogs.  Thanks, again for your support and we hope that you will follow each member along this amazing tour of talent!  Don’t forget to click the link below to learn more about this author:

D. L. Finn RWISA Author Page

 

 

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2018 #RRBC WC&BE SPONSORS BLOG HOP! – NONNIE JULES

Today on The Indie Spot, I am proud to support 2018 Rave Reviews Book Club Writers’ Conference & Book Expo sponsor and RWISA author Nonnie Jules! 

. . .If Only There Was Music by Nonnie Jules!


This is a book of poetry for and about forbidden love. These poems are sexy, sensuous and hot, but most of all, they are poems of love… and the feelings they arouse in you are unbelievable! They “feel” like love songs and you will “feel” like singing, but they are only spoken words coming from your mouth, without music. If you aren’t in love before you begin reading this book, you will go seeking a love afterwards.

 

I hope you’ve enjoyed my profile of this great read! If you did, head on over to Amazon and pick up your copy today!

Follow Nonnie Jules on Twitter

Find Nonnie Jules at RWISA

Meet Nonnie Jules on Facebook

Concordant Vibrancy 3 Cover Reveal!

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Hello!

Thanks for visiting.

In celebrating a new tradition, All Authors Publications and Promotions is rejoicing in the forthcoming release of the 3rd Annual installment of “Concordant Vibrancy”.

First there was “Concordant Vibrancy: Unity”, the first book in this multi-genre anthology collections.

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Then there was “Concordant Vibrancy 2: Vitality”, the second book in this unique series.

cv2-cover

water-splash-dividerToday, we celebrate the Cover Reveal of “Concordant Vibrancy 3: Lustrate”.

borderFirst a little about the book …

The Blurb

What embodies the composition of fluidity?

This is the query of the third installment of the Concordant Vibrancy collection, presented by All Authors Publications & Promotions, entitled “Lustrate”.

Nine incredible writers unite—through a combination of poetry, essays, and short stories—to produce unique responses flowing with vitality.

Works include:

“Unsui” by Harmony Kent
“Exiled” by Carol Cassada
“The Satiationship” by Synful Desire
“Twin Planets” by Y. Correa
“Threes” by Queen of Spades
“Luster Lingers” by Adonis Mann
“The Boo Thang Convention” by C. Desert Rose
“Overcome (Holy Water)” by Beem Weeks
and
“The Bunny” by Da’Kharta Rising

Now, without further ado, All Authors Publications & Promotions presents you, our precious readers, writers and precious patrons with the cover of the upcoming “Concordant Vibrancy 3: Lustrate”.

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Learn …

What embodies the composition of fluidity?

Waves To Light Blog Tour Guest Author Queen Of Spades

Greetings, dear readers. Today it is my pleasure to introduce, not one, but two amazing guests to my blog. In connection with the Waves To Light blog tour, first up I give you Queen of Spades. 

The Waves of Write

spinningworld

I cannot recall the exact date and time
But all I knew back then
Was that a series of discovered lies
Caused my entire world to spin.

In the beginning, it appeared as if I blended in with what was considered normal. I learned to read early—utilizing the local paper mostly because it was more accessible than books. I liked being outdoors and didn’t mind talking. I didn’t talk a lot but I was willing to engage, open to taking steps to secure friendships.

While seeking outside relationships, a veil was pushed back. Yet, it was done slowly, almost like throwing small hints—where you have to wait until the next episode of a show to get closer to the answer.

questioning

Even in my younger years, when things did not make sense to me, I asked questions. There were cracks in the narrative a loved one was telling me, and someone finally revealed that person had been deceptive since day one.

It is important to demonstrate honesty because if you don’t, it leaves an impression—particularly when you are raising a child. One cannot expect that child to treat you with respect if you behave in a way that is distrustful, and on top of that, try to justify the lying. A person can miss me with the whole, “Do as I say, not as I do.” Instead, I’m of the mind, “How can I believe what you say when what you do is the exact opposite?”

What could have been an “all right” relationship downgraded into countless layers of dysfunction. My decisions no longer were simple things, like what colors to wear or what I wanted to eat for dinner.

They were more complex—choosing between honoring an absentee parent revealed as a pathological liar and honoring that parent’s parents who had been honest and provided for me from the very beginning. I had to divide my time between playing with my toys, doing homework, and bracing to do emotional clean up after that absentee parent would generate a tsunami of tears. I didn’t understand back then but now I know that the many tears my grandparents shed were two fold—the lack of respect they weren’t given for taken on a responsibility that did not belong to them.

They do not prepare you in school how a child should cope in adult situations. Since I did not know, I did not deal. I believed that if I could have more friends, it could be a buffer to the other things going on. Perhaps I’d have someone to talk to, even if it wasn’t about my sadness. Instead, the rejections if interaction—with the added caveat of bullying due to my outside appearance—only exacerbated my internal angst.

It wasn’t long before the veil was slashed. First, I stopped smiling as much. Then, I couldn’t remember if I still had the ability to smile. Soon thereafter, I stopped talking, unless it had a purpose. Examples of purpose are when the teacher called on me to ask a question or when my grandparents asked me about certain things.

oldbrothertypewriter

It was around that time my fingers became active. I did not have a computer, but I did have a typewriter, pen and paper. That was when I began writing. After I wrote things down, there was serenity, a release that made me feel more capable. Soon I was journaling daily. Once I got introduced to poetry, I was hooked. The early assignments based on Edgar Allan Poe enticed me the most. The emotions that he painted on paper with the brushstrokes of rhythm and stanzas, eclipsed into high definition Technicolor in the core of my being. There were moments where my journals entries took on a poetic style and one could not determine where one style began and the other ended.

The majority of my teachers marveled at my creativity while a select few were rattled. My earlier writes were of a morbid nature, teetering between grasping for the sky and plunging into oblivion.

It was said by one of my therapists that I was demonstrating classic signs of clinical depression: decrease in a once enjoyable activity (talking), not having a lot of friends (anti-social, end result of the bullying), not having my biological parents around (separation/abandonment issues), and instability of emotional processes (in ways of dealing).Nicolas-Cage-Laugh

I laugh at this because in many ways, if it wasn’t for writing, there’d be a lot more excess carnage. How many stories do you read about individuals acting out and other lives being lost as a result? To me, writing has saved lives, not just my own.

I asked this person, “So, my coping mechanism isn’t the proper coping mechanism? Therefore, what should I do if writing isn’t it?”

This therapist then wanted to pump me full of medication and have me talk about my past and how it might feed into my issues—taking me and putting me into a tiny little box that correlates with a chart of “classic”, “diagnosis”, and “treatment according to Section A, Paragraph B, with a clause from Footnote C”.

Needless to say, that therapist didn’t last long.

I’ve had quite a few therapists. I mean no disrespect. They may do wonders for others but they weren’t hitting the mark for me. I’ve been on quite a few medications—one in particular was an absolute disaster.

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Yet for me, the only thing that has ever given me peace and power is when I write.

Writing started as my catharsis. I still journal, although not as much because I’m busy writing short stories and poetry. The thing I want to convey is just because something emerges from a tragedy doesn’t make it a bad thing, or an improper thing.

Would I have been able to write with such irrepressible coherence if disaster didn’t strike? I dare not speculate in one way or another. All I know is that I had a choice: to let my challenges consume me or utilize them in ways which would strengthen me. I chose the latter, and in doing so, have testimonies to share with others for solidarity, encouragement and hope.

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Goodreads listing 

My emotions in the discovery and the treatment process for my clinical depression are captured in the poetry and prose via “Nuances of Color” in Waves to Light. The best way to combat the stigma is not stewing in silence but by bubbling with outspokenness.

Number Three

Waves To Light Blog Tour Guest Author MJ Holman

Greetings, dear readers. Today it is my pleasure to introduce, not one, but two amazing guests to my blog. In connection with the Waves To Light blog tour, next up is the talented MJ Holman.

Mental illness can begin quietly and be so faint that it barely makes a mark on one’s consciousness. There can be an imperceptible crawl towards a condition, and it may only be possible to identify the different symptoms, the behaviours in retrospect, after diagnosis.

The first behaviour came when I was six. I decided to stop eating. My poor parents and sister tried every method and subterfuge to get me to eat. This worked in my favour, for it was clearly an attention grabbing exercise to begin with and I won.

The next behaviour was not attending school. I would feign sickness or pretend to go, when really all I did was roam the streets alone. Eventually I was found out and I could have been saved from years of illness when my parents and the school decided to send me to a clinical psychologist.  Unfortunately, attitudes to childhood depression were different then to what they are now, and all he did was try to establish whether I was an unruly idiot or not. He decided I was neither, I was just ‘difficult.’

Progressing through my teenage years, the illness tormented me like a constant hum. My mild anorexia turned into the opposite: binging, and the behaviours of apathy and social withdrawal increased to an extent where I was afraid to leave the house. At this time, I started to write about the symptoms in my journal and poetry began to form as a consequence. Now I had a record of sadness.

I left school with qualifications despite my frequent absence and wanted to go to university. My lack of self-esteem was so severe I could not fulfil my ambition and instead I drifted into work.

Work was a contradiction. I felt comfortable there, confident even, however the depression began to accelerate. While the illness got worse, the journals began to fill with writing. Some of the early poetry in The Sea of Conscience is from this period.

For some people, depression finally becomes unmanageable once it has reached the breakdown stage. After months of sickness and fighting it, I was descending the stairs at work, when I suddenly discovered I could no longer walk. I stopped still in the middle of the flight and had to crawl down the rest of the stairs. A few days later I could not go out without sobbing. My brain had said, ‘no more, get yourself to a doctor.’

My doctor diagnosed clinical depression and prescribed medication. As the months and years passed, still with repeated episodes of depression I also noticed something else. I had periods where I was incredibly happy, where I cried non-stop, not out of sadness, but out of joy. I was also impatient and thought the world turned too slow. In addition to this, I experienced phases of intense creativity where the poems and the prose flowed freely.

In 2013, after enduring these symptoms for two months, I went to my doctor and he initially diagnosed bipolar affective disorder. It was later officially diagnosed by a psychiatrist. My medication was changed and I was offered cognitive behavourial therapy.

Cover poetry 2

With this history behind me I started to work on The Sea of Conscience, a volume of poems about depression, elation, and how we can cope through creativity and our passions. I asked Queen of Spades if she would contribute three poems, all of which blended well with my work. She later came to me to suggest a follow-up project, and agreeing it should be of equal parts and commitment, we started work on Waves to Light.

The two individual sections, All Shades of Black and Nuances of Color represent our  experiences with mental illness, our approach to treatment, both our own and through our respective healthcare providers.

For me the emphasis in All Shades of Black was using language to illustrate the many layers (the shades) of symptoms and emotions, to build a description of feelings (whispering in my veins)

and to look to places where one might find solace and peace.