Tag Archives: poet

Welcome to NOVEMBER “SPOTLIGHT” Author Blog Tour!

Today, it is my great honor to share with you a fantastic author and an amazing human being. Introducing Rave Reviews Book Club’s SPOTLIGHT AUTHOR for November, D. L. Finn! 

Take it away, D. L. . .

Thank you for having me on your blog for day one of the Just Her Poetry Spotlight tour!

Finn Facts:

  1. I won the first place ribbon, at our local fair, of an icicle picture taken near Reno, NV.
  2. I’ve almost drowned in a river, pool, and the ocean, but I still love to swim.

 

Blurb:

Take a journey with D.L. Finn as she blends her love of nature with her deepest emotions. Sit with her on the forest floor observing its tranquil beauty, or stroll along the ocean’s shore admiring the vastness of its horizon. Here in these peaceful moments you’ll be able to experience her thoughts and feelings in the light—and in the darkness. This is a thought-provoking collection of poetry that invites the reader into all the seasons of a soul.

Excerpt from Just Her Poetry: NATURE Spring and Summer

SPRING SUN

I sit outside in the spring sun

Listening to the birds sing

As a bee hums near me searching.

Small patches of snow are slushy

Everything’s waking up from the dormant season

The cats are exploring…the dogs sunbathing.

I relax in the warmth that renews my soul.

It is a day for new beginnings…a new seed

A place to plant buried dreams in the stars

In the fertile magic of a perfect day in spring.

Amazon Purchase Link

D.L. Finn is an independent California local who encourages everyone to embrace their inner child. She was born and raised in the foggy Bay Area, but in 1990 relocated with her husband, kids, dogs, and cats to the Sierra foothills in Nevada City, CA. She immersed herself in reading all types of books, but especially loved romance, horror, and fantasy. She always treasured creating her own reality on paper. Finally, being surrounded by towering pines, oaks, and cedars, her creativity was nurtured until it bloomed. Her creations vary from children’s books, young adult fantasy, and adult paranormal romance to an autobiography with poetry. She continues on her adventures with an open invitation for her readers to join her.

D.L. Finn Links:

Twitter

Facebook

Instagram

Pinterest

D.L. Finn blog

More Purchase Links:

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

 

Welcome to “MOMENTS WE LOVE” Blog Tour! @BalroopShado

MOMENTS WE LOVE – 4 Wills Publishing Tour from 18 October to 24 October 2019
Day – 6

About the Book:

Moments of fragrant love that stand frozen in time, of dreams that dare not unfold, of passion that fleets by, of erratic joy that we meet at the crossroads of life, butterflies of time that add color to our dark moments to scare the demons away – I have gathered all of them in this book. Some of them whisper softly to create a magical aura while spring of life sings with them, trying to wipe silent tears. Mother Nature steps in with all her grandeur to breath quiet messages of tranquility.

Each poem would soothe your emotions with élan and add a dash of color to your life. Life – that doesn’t halt for your sad moments; that just floats by. You just need to dive in to soak in myriads of moments to discover how it could ignite positive tones. All the poems in this collection are imaginary but inspired from people around me, some of whom chose to share their frustrations and tremors with me. Sometimes I could read between the lines to pen my thoughts down.

Memories and moments merge here
Today when I return to share
The glow of rainbows
Embers of emotional entreaties
And smoldering debris.

Buying links:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07W57M462

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Do you Like Poetry?

I don’t remember when I started liking poetry. Probably I was born with it or was fascinated by the lyrics of Mother Nature. When I walk down my memory lane, one image looms large and that is how much effort one of our English professors used to put into explaining the poetry of Tennyson and Wordsworth. While the latter was relatively easier to understand, the former much more complex and obviously we didn’t like the one that was more challenging.

The real challenges came my way when ‘Paradise Lost,’ an epic poem by John Milton was not taught in the class (or if it was, I must be mentally absent) and even when it was discussed, it didn’t evoke any interest!

While prose can be effortless reading unless it is stream of consciousness writing, poetry can become quite boring if we are not familiar with its techniques and tones.
Despite the tests and trails, I continued to like poetry and discovered that it is a genre par excellence. It can say a lot through literary techniques, which only an admirer of Literature can understand. I still struggle to understand some subtle messages conveyed through simple words.

Ambiguous ideas in a poem provide a food for thought and chisel your creative skills.
Who has the time and the inclination to read and re-read a poem in this fast-paced world? Only poetry lovers do! Most of my blogger friends are elaborative when they share their reflections on my post. Whenever I post a poem, I get a lukewarm response and I often wonder – is it because of poetry?

Quickly my mind hurtles back, my interactions with teenagers get refreshed, all their expressions, yawns and glances stand before me, bringing those lovely memories of hate-love relationship we had with poetry…when we would try to convince each other why poetry is good or bad and how we could understand it better.

I am not an expert but I have figured out a few ways to understand poetry.
How to understand a poem:

All readers have their own approach and interpretation but how imagery is used defines a poem. Can you read between those special words to fathom their depth?
It is better to read slowly.
Stop and ponder over at the word that seems simple but abstruse.
“If you’re curious, there is always something new to be discovered in the backdrop of your daily life,” says Roy T. Bennett.
Be curious. Inquisitiveness and interest are two important elements that lead to our understanding of a poem.
Poetry can’t be scanned and understood like prose as the former demands concentration, attention and gentle reading.
If you read a poem in a hurry, you would miss the real meaning. Many times words are used as metaphors.
You have to be familiar with most common literary techniques like simile, metaphor, hyperbole, personification, alliteration and assonance.
Imaginative flights of poets can’t be predicted, we have to fly with them to figure out their proficiencies.
Critical analysis of a poem reveals the nuances of its theme, undertones and other signals, which remain hidden to a scanner.
Some poems are ambiguous. Probably they relate to the poet’s past or buried memory, which he wouldn’t like to reveal yet, give a vent to his emotions through writing.
© Balroop Singh

Author Bio:
Balroop Singh, a former teacher and an educationalist always had a passion for writing. She is a poet, a creative non-fiction writer, a relaxed blogger and a doting grandma. She writes about people, emotions and relationships. Her poetry highlights the fact that happiness is not a destination but a chasm to bury agony, anguish, grief, distress and move on! No sea of solitude is so deep that it can drown us. Sometimes aspirations are trampled upon, the boulders of exploitation and discrimination may block your path but those who tread on undeterred are always successful.

When turbulences hit, when shadows of life darken, when they come like unseen robbers, with muffled exterior, when they threaten to shatter your dreams, it is better to break free rather than get sucked by the vortex of emotions.

A self-published author, she is the poet of Sublime Shadows of Life, Emerging From Shadows and Timeless Echoes – her widely acclaimed poetry books. She has also written When Success Eludes, Emotional Truths Of Relationships, Allow Yourself to be a Better Person, her latest poetry book Moments We Love has just been released.

Balroop Singh has always lived through her heart. She is a great nature lover; she loves to watch birds flying home. The sunsets allure her with their varied hues that they lend to the sky. She can spend endless hours listening to the rustling leaves and the sound of waterfalls. The moonlight streaming through her garden, the flowers, the meadows, the butterflies cast a spell on her. She lives in San Ramon, California.
You can visit her blog at: https://balroop2013.wordpress.com
Connecting links: https://twitter.com/BalroopShado
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Emotional-Shadows/151387075057971

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7340810.Balroop_Singh
https://www.amazon.com/Balroop-Singh/e/B00N5QLW8U/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

To follow along with the rest of the tour, please visit the author’s tour page on the 4WillsPublishing site.  If you’d like to book your own blog tour and have your book promoted in similar grand fashion, please click HERE.

Thanks for supporting this author and her work!

A New Release From Andrew Boyd

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Facebook|Twitter|Andrew Boyd, Poet

 

Andrew Boyd is a student of poetry, blogging, and story telling. Andrew became a self-published author on February 27, 2013. He is one who is honest to where he made people mad, yet they respect and respected what he had, have, and has to say.

A two-time kidney transplant recipient, Andrew is one who looks at the world in a way that gives and gave him perspective as to how his life would be shaped due to his medical experiences, as well as helping others by exuding inspiration and compassion to those around him.

He is a graduate of the Class of 1996 from Germantown-Lankenau Motivational Program Annex, where his writing prowess was born in the 10th Grade, and continued on while attending Arcadia University in 1996. After a writing hiatus in 1997, a trip to New York City in March 2010 reignited his passion for writing. While posting several of his writings on social media outlets, he also performs and performed spoken word poetry in the Philadelphia and New York areas. He is currently performing on Black Poetry Cafe’s (BPC) internet radio show “FEVER FRIDAYS”.

 

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Amazon

 

Blurb

When the world needs your light, the supply is unlimited. When you need the world’s light, the service is disconnected. Shrouded in darkness, with not even a candle’s flicker to show the way, how does one heal?

Andrew Boyd’s result is to conduct his own Therapy Session. This fifth book in the WORDPLAY poetry series is a chronicle of crepuscules that Andrew has faced throughout his life, some unbeknownst to those who believed knew him best. What he hopes to accomplish through this psychoanalysis is the prescription to understanding, development and sustainable peace.

 

 

Excerpt

 

 

Hate

Sitting on the floor in front of a crowd,
My legs are crossed Indian Style,
Elbows on the knees.
Head bowed down and temperament apparent,
My microphone will melt with what I will say.

Hate is a strong word: never to be taken lightly.
There are many who do not use the word when
Expressing the feelings they have for others.

I Hate the fact that there is suffering,
I Hate the fact that there are immoral people.
I Hate that those who do the most harm are
The ones worshipping under the steeple.

I Hate how they lie to innocent parties.
I Hate that they rage on another.
I Hate how they do not hold themselves accountable
As they break the heart of their mother.

I Hate how people turned their backs to me.
I Hate that they feel they are seen as priority one.
I Hate that patience to them is a waste of time
Yet they look to me to jump the gun.

I Hate how people say that they are by my side,
Yet their actions speak louder than their words.
I Hate the fact that they lied to me that way
To the point where I show them my flock of birds.

I Hate that I trust some people early:
I Hate that part about myself.
There should be many people walking with shirts
That read “Trusting me is bad for your health.”

I Hate this life that I live:
I can only blame myself.
I Hate that I placed myself in these situations:
I Hate that I cannot see my worth and wealth.

To acknowledge that I Hate myself
Tells me personally that I see more than I care to see.
I need to stop hating the reflection in my mirror,
If I am to change things around and about me.

 

 

Thank you

*Special Thanks to Monica F. Brown and Yasmin Correa for helping me with all things “WORDPLAY: Therapy Session”, from the inside of the covers to the cover itself*

A Spaded Journey (Guest Author Post)

Hello, dear readers. It is my pleasure to once again share my blog with another incredibly talented writer. This guest should be familiar to all who read this blog. Please give a warm welcome to the poet Queen of Spade.

Take it away, Queenie…

Greetings Beem! Thanks for allowing me to pull up a chair on your lovely blog. Since you are fan of stories, I’d like to tell you a story about a journey—“A Spaded Journey”.

Monica

It was many moons ago—more moons that I can count, when a younger version of me was networking about. I was full of optimism, overflowing to the brim, with a willingness to help people, no matter what circles they were in.

It was during my time in a few poetry clubs that my burning cigarette of helpfulness got dimmed, then snubbed. Too many egos got in the way of cooperation. Other people became upset because one wonderful idea was not their creation.

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Goodreads

You see, way before there was Truths, I gave birth to Branches—where all types of poets came together from different land expanses. When other administrators discovered the news, they threw salt on the audio rendition of the project, leaving the participants disappointed and primarily confused.

2005spadedtruths

The betrayal upset me so much that when the 1st Spaded Truths finally came to fruition, I confess to not giving it much needed attention. My passion was in the wastebasket. My marketing mojo was in a rut. Little by little, I made myself scarce then chiding, “When it comes to networking, I’ve decided to give up.”

Year after year went by, yet I continued to write. When it came to showcasing the talent, those words failed to see the light. One day, I revisited a portfolio with poems of old. For closure’s sake, an exception was made and the end result was Reflections of Soul.

reflectionsofsoul

Amazon

As popularity gained for “Reflections”, I was back in the spotlight—this time, each action saturated with a sprinkle of fright. In the beginning, I couldn’t help but get flashbacks of the past … where I was helpful to a fault, but my efforts bit me in the ass.

However, little by little, I lowered my shield, feeling more comfort each and every day. I was making lots of discoveries—I still had so much talent to put on display.

2013spadedtruths

Amazon

That is when I made an executive decision, for the presentation of the 1st Spaded Truths would not have even received honorable mention. The inner content needed structure; the cover concept lacked maturity. In December 2013, the 1st Spaded Truths was re-launched, one that better matched my poetic glory.

I never composed “Themes and Proclamations” with the intention of there being more. I was just thankful a better Truths was published that myself and others could adore. Yet, over the span of a few months, I was writing lots of lines—none which fit any subjects I was writing about at the time.

Goodreads

One night I tossed and turned—the mental repetition of a phrase prompted me to wake. Those five words simmered: Truth has no expiration date. After much meditation, I suddenly knew … the lines that were manifesting belonged to Spaded Truths 2. It wouldn’t be like the 1st production, just an awareness of maladies that causes the human condition’s “Life-O-Suction”.

2015lifeosuction

So, as everyone waits patiently for the new book to debut, I bid everyone who has read this tale, “Adieu.”

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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.

keepcalmwriteon

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