How easy to perceive the bear
In his lair,
Waiting for the girl who, having tentatively climbed the stair
Enters there.
He doesn’t care
And will have his way
The wagging fingers say.
Wine is opened
And trite
Words at night
Are spoken,
But there is no force.
The evening runs it’s course.
More trite words are said
Then, bed.
Morning breaks.
Her leave she takes
With a kiss on the cheek, not lips
That strips
The situation bare
Yet there
Is in that peck, perhaps a kind of care.
I am in the process of compiling a further collection of my poetry. This is, on the face of it an easy task. There are many poems, consequently it’s simply a question of pulling them together in a single volume. Well not quite, for there are a number of issues which I need to address prior to pressing that “publish button:
1. What criteria ought I to employ when choosing poems for inclusion? I could (as mentioned above) simply include all the poems written since the publication of my previous collection, “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind”, (http://moyhill.com/lost/). However, while I am happy with all the poems on this site, newauthoronline.com (I wouldn’t have allowed them to go live where this not the case), I don’t believe that each and every one of my poems is worthy of inclusion in a new collection, at least not in their current form.
I could make my determination on the basis of “likes”, including those poems which have attracted the most “likes” and/or comments. This is the approach which, broadly speaking will be adopted by me, for, in general the pieces receiving the most “likes” are my favourite poems and are, in my view most worthy of inclusion. However there are other poems which (while having received fewer “likes” are of special importance to me and will, on this basis be included. While public appreciation of one’s work is a wonderful thing and I am extremely grateful to each and everyone of my readers who likes and comments on my work, in the final analysis I write for myself rather than to please (or displease)! An audience. If the poet (or any writer for that matter) becomes a slave to the preferences of his readership he (or she is lost.
2. Which publishing platform should I use? I will certainly use Kindle to distribute the ebook version of my forthcoming collection. For all Amazon’s problems/issues (and it has quite a few), the company remains, in my view the most effective mechanism for distributing ebooks. In addition to the ebook I will be producing a print edition. Many readers still prefer hard copy books and having spoken to a number of young readers (in their late teens or early 20’s) I know the love of traditional books is not confined to the middle-aged and older generations.
I will, of course keep you posted on the collection’s progress.
Finally I would like to close by saying a big thank you to all my readers/followers. Your comments and “likes” help to keep me writing.
Kevin
This novel sounds like a fascinating read and I look forward to reading Jenny’s book when it is published.
I am delighted to welcome Jennie Ensor as a guest on my review page as a guest blog talking about her forthcoming debut book Blind Side to be published on 23 July 2016. I will be reviewing Blind Side on 27 July.
First, I’ll tell you a little about who my story and who everyone is.
The main narrator is Georgie, a young woman at a critical stage in her life. She knows something important is missing from it, and she must decide whether to continue the path she’s on or to gather her courage to risk making a change. The second narrator is Julian, Georgie’s close friend, a slightly geeky chap who has nursed strong feelings for her but been unable to express them, because he knows she would probably run away. From the start, Julian is…
View original post 922 more words
Please
Don’t call me “hon”.
Save it for the bees,
Who tease
The flowers on this beautiful July day.
I pray
Do not say
“Hon”
Or I will run
Away!
—
It was early one spring when I found myself on a French highway between Normandy and Paris with my panties strung on a line across the back window of a silver sports car. French truck drivers, not unlike American truck drivers were quick to express their approval of my delicates flapping in the breeze as I zoomed back to Paris.
This would never have happened if I hadn’t decide liquor was more important than panties. You see I worked in Europe three weeks of every month. So naturally, I decided I could forego clothing to create luggage space for more wine and champagne.
This time my brilliance got the best of me. I found myself in the unfortunate position of being in a hotel in rural France without clean panties.
Never fear, I thought, a quick wash in the sink and they’ll be dry and ready for the flight…
View original post 161 more words
An interesting post about “Telling a good poem from a bad one”, (http://www.dailywritingtips.com/telling-a-good-poem-from-a-bad-one/).
The comments following on from the article are, on the whole also well worth reading with (in my opinion) the following exception:
“ahi, as far as I am concerned poetry is for one person and that person is the person that wrote it and to be honest that is where it should be left.
I have tried many times to read poetry which has been sent to newspapers and to magazines but it is too much like hard work to bother because it is generally absolute tripe.
Poetry belongs with latin, forgotten, and should stay there.
There are a few con-merchants around as well who offer to publish ones poems if they come up to the mark. In this case the mark is if you are prepared to pay for the thrill of seeing your rubbish in print and people constantly fall for it.
I even pointed this fact out to one guy and he was still adamant that the quality of his work was “good”. I am sorry but it was absolutely terrible,”ignorance is bliss”, cheers, david”.
The above comment does, I believe say more about the person making it than it does about the value of poetry. “It was too much like hard work” says it all!
There was a young lady called Lucinda
Who met a hot man on Tinder.
He said, “with you I will level,
I am the devil
And my gift to you is a cinder”!
No need for roses to impress
The girl in the short summer dress,
Though there is wine a plenty
To fill the empty
Cup.
A man may sup
And not be filled
Though wine be spilled
Upon the sheet
Where nectar sweet
Runs
And the great tide comes
In once more
To sigh
And die
On barren shore.
There was a young man called Lefroy
Who thought every girl was his toy.
He met a lady called Kate
And learned too late
How a girl can a man’s ego destroy
There was a young man called Strange
Who lived in a moated grange.
The moat dried out
And his neighbours did shout,
“You must your affairs rearrange”!
