Category Archives: musings

Meaning Is In The Eye Of The Reader

In response to a comment by me on her post entitled “The infinity of Destinies”, Veronica comments as follows:

“If I told you my own vision, the mystery would be gone, don’t you agree?”. (see https://thewavesofpoetry.com/2020/07/12/the-infinity-of-destinies-dedicated-to-e/).

As a poet, I do indeed agree with Veronica. Every reader puts his or her own interpretation upon a poem or any other piece of writing. What the creator of art intended is, frequently not what the reader, the viewer of the painting Etc, interprets. And herein resides the joy and beauty of artistic creation.

In my poem “Raining”, I describe awaking to the sound of “rain drumming on my window pane”. On reading “Raining”, a friend’s teenage son commented that he thought the rain was “crying”. This is not something which I (the poet) had ever considered when penning the poem. I can, however understand why my friend’s son interprets “Raining” as he does, and I certainly do not dismiss his interpretation of the poem.

The truth of the matter is this. Once a poem, short story, novel or any other artistic creation is made available to the public, those exposed to it will, inevitably put their own interpretation upon that creation. And they have every right to do so. This is part of the joy of creativity – that it provokes differing interpretations.

As always, I would be interested in the views of my readers.

Kevin

The Importance Of Book Reviews

A post by Chris Graham, (AKA The Story Reading Ape), on the importance of leaving reviews, https://wp.me/p3mGq7-yfz.

I am always grateful when a reader takes the time to leave a review of one of my books on Amazon, Goodreads or their own website.

It gave me tremendous pleasure when, during Christmas 2019, a reader contacted me by email and told me that she had enjoyed my “Selected Poems”, and that I had inspired her to write. So, yes, reviews are important to authors.

1 Meter Plus?

He sought bliss
In a kiss.
But, “Corona”, she cried.
“Your kiss is denied!”.

“What about a hug”,
He said.
“That is also denied”,
She replied,
“for a bug
May hide inside
A hug”.

“So is love dead?”,
He said.
“Perchance we may dance
1 meter apart.
But, to be safe
We must not embrace.

You have my heart”,
Said she.
“But, let us discuss,
Perhaps, for you and me
It really ought to be
1 meter plus?”.

Mopping Up

Earlier today, I recorded my poem “The Man with the Mop”:

(“The Man with the Mop” can be found in my “Selected Poems”, which is available on Amazon, and can be found here, https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07WW8WXPP/ (for the UK), and here https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07WW8WXPP/.)

My Guest Post on Lucy’s Works – How Spa Wood Influences My Poetry

My sincere thanks to Lucy for hosting me on her excellent website. For my guest post, in which I discuss how Spa Wood (and nature more generally) influences my writing, please visit here, https://wp.me/pawefW-1T5.

The Suspect and other tales free book deal

My book ‘The Suspect and other tales’ will be available for free from the 14th July – 18th July 2020.

Book Description:

Tales of the unexpected, ranging from stories of crime and vengeance through to ghostly happenings in an ancient mansion.

‘Light and Shade; serious (and not so serious) poems’ posts on Instagram

I have just uploaded four posts to Instagram of my book ‘Light and Shade; serious (and not so serious) poems’. The photographs show me holding the print and Braille editions of my book, whilst others show me stroking my dog, Trigger.

Book Description:
Life is full of light and shade. For to be human is to experience joy, beauty, love, pain and laughter. This collection reflects all facets of human experience. hence the title ‘Light and Shade; serious (and not so serious poems)’.

You can purchase ‘Light and Shade; serious (and not so serious) poems’ here for the UK or here for the US.

Dearth

Summers grow dry.
But sceptics deny,
And welcome grapes in England’s
Once green and pleasant land.

The watering can and hosepipe
Refresh the earth
Day and night.

There is a dearth.
For, I find
Within the sceptic’s mind
A different kind,
Of drout.