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Patty's Poem of the Month
Poetry
by Ron
Wallace
Real poetry moves like a winter's leaf
caught in a cold, stiff wind
or a honeysuckle vine climbing a latticed frame
on May's front porch.
.
It strikes like a copperhead,
a sudden blur of patterned skin causing hearts to race.
.
It rhymes with the measured grace
and language of Shakespeare's numbered sonnets
or it takes off shifting rhythmically
ambling with old Walt down the open road
free.
.
You can't force it into another animal's hide;
it's alive and speaks with its own voice,
a wolf's growl, a sultry whisper.
It burns with the Fire and Ice of Frost.
.
Real poems are not tame.
They peer into your gut through a falcon's eyes;
they come at you, leather-bound, carrying steel
curled in both fists
or touch you with an old friend's embrace
before parting.
.
They may or may not be dressed in black,
but they carry themselves like Johnny Cash
out onto the stage,
and they hit as hard as Jack Tatum
driving air from a wide receiver's lungs.
.
Real poetry lays us down in a lover's arms
or lifts us like a cowboy saddling a favorite pony.
.
It lies its way to the truth
branded on the universal heart of man.
.
Some poets pick up hammers and build their poems
from nails and wood,
or lace leather into ballads
sew fine cotton thread into sonnets.
Others take a chisel and carve songs from native stone,
and painted canvas becomes a poem in artists'
hands
.
while the lesser of our trade pluck words
from thin air
and cast them into space
praying they find a life their own
and learn to walk
among the castle clouds
Poetry delves into the nature of writing and
expression, combined with the punch of reality that a notable
poem delivers. Ron Wallace writes of the hard edges that
characterize true poetic style. He examines the art of poetry
from a variety of angles while maintaining a clear viewpoint and
opinion.
more
Your Own Devices, Your Own Poem, Part Two
That Figures
By Patty Zion
Our study of poetic devices continues with an exploration of
figures of speech. In a very real way, poetry would
not be poetry without these techniques. Much of the wonder
of the craft comes from using a figure of speech with flair.
more
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Patty Zion -
Staff Editor
We are extremely
fortunate to have a staff editor that is totally
dedicated to writing and writers. Patty Zion has
been with us since the very beginning and her insight has
been incredibly helpful.
We deeply appreciate
her contributions to this site and implore you to take
advantage of what has to be one of the best collection
of articles and in-depth reviews on the internet.
Visit
The Editor's Desk where Patty currently has 14
articles and over 20 poem reviews. Ms. Zion
prepares an article once a week and chooses two poems
per week for a full critique. Best of all, this is all
free.
Patty is also
available for contract work and we recommend her highly.
Please take a moment to check out her page
Editor's Desk.
Staff - TJMF
Publishing
Sarah recently had a great time at a scheduled reading - here's her
article
Readings - Don't Hesitate
by
Sarah Louise Yagi
For those of you who are ready to begin marketing your new
books, I would highly recommend reading at any and every
opportunity you can create – local libraries, book stores,
clubs, etc. For months, I had hesitated introducing myself, but
when I finally found the courage to do so, I was as surprised as
I was pleased at the incredible reception I received.
more
June Use These Words Contest Winners
Participants had to use these words as is in a poem
of 100 words or less
bucket - sensitive - envelope
- warm - trying
empty - home - emotions -
green - develop
First Place
The Cold and Damp by CJC
Gran
could weep bucket loads;
mum
says she could water Sudan
with
her sensitive soul -
pouring over the envelope,
hugs the contents and cries
to
nobody. Just her, the cat
and my
card sharing that
warm
heart and damp room. Mum would reap
-
'those trying emotions' -
where green turns unseen to mildew.
Perhaps, one day, someone
will
come and develop a love
for
all the empty Grans,
I said
to mum on the way home;
but
all she does is sigh.
Second
Place
Her
Beauty Lives On
by
Laura
A warm
breeze filters
through
the open window
of my
childhood home.
Her green
planter bucket
sits near
the back door,
now
empty.
Each
Spring, her loving hands
would
tirelessly develop
seedlings
scattered
deep within rich soil.
Emotions
are raw and sensitive
as I open
another envelope
with card
enclosed,
expressing kind
remembrances
of the
woman I called mother.
Her
gentle and kind ways
will live
on forever, and
I will
keep trying to emulate
her
beautiful spirit
Third Place
Interlude by Marion
A. Poirier
She came often
to feed the
gulls,
bringing bread crumbs
in a small
plastic
bucket from
home.
.
On a warm
summer day,
she glimpsed a young sailor
standing in
the space
reserved for her alone.
He flashed a
friendly smile;
she turned
away,
trying to
conceal emotions
before smiling back.
.
He came
the following
day,
as she had
secretly hoped;
romance began
to develop.
When his green eyes
lit with
desire,
she wasn't
sensitive
to
restraint.
.
Summer faded
like a whisper.
An envelope
holds his
only letter.
The pier is
empty now,
except for
the mournful gulls
swooping
down,
hungry.
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