Having read and reviewed James Hutchings’s Two Fisted Tweets I have to say that Mr. Hutchings is a master at microfiction. Able to tell a story in 172 characters or less in order to meet the Twitter guideline in TFT, Hutchings now treats his readers to longer pieces of work (but not too long) and poems in his new book called The New Death and Others.

Hutchings relies heavily on the use of anthropomorphism (look that one up!) and personification, giving human qualities and voices to abstract states and inanimate objects which presents many of his stories in almost a fable-like storytale feel that relies heavily on tongue-in-cheek humor and irony.

You’ll stop and scratch your head and ponder the meaning of many of his twisted little tales, or laugh out loud at the silliness which is exactly what Hutchings intended.  Here is an author that enjoys puns and jokes, and obviously enjoys entertaining others.  There are even foot notes in some of the stories which actually turn out to be additional jokes.

There are numerous poems throughout the book, many of which were inspired by other famous authors’ writings.  Definitely good reason to seek out the works he’s cited so that you can compare them and discover Hutchings’s meanings and reason for inspiration.

Here is one of my favorite short poems:

If My Life Was Filmed

If my life was filmed, it would
go straight to DVD
and someone who was famous once
would have the role of me
and if five stars meant ‘excellent’
you’d give it two or three
and most of those who rented it
would watch ironically.

Years later they would track me down
and do an interview.
They say “I heard you died,” and I’d
say “Yeah, I heard that too.”
“Is any of it fictional?”
“Perhaps a scene or two.
There weren’t as many ninjas, but
the rest is mostly true.”
If you are looking for some light, interesting reading and wish to be entertained (and don’t mind a lot of cats), The New Death and Others is worth a look and worth the buck!

Poetry is hard to review.  It’s very personal, and sometimes a poet likes to hide secrets or special meanings in their verse.  They play on words and patterns and rhyming schemes.  In the end, interpretation is often left up to the reader although the poet has often exposed a soft inner piece of themselves through their expression.  That is certainly the case with Mr. Monroe’s collection of songs and poems called Slow Turning.

Monroe was sexually abused as a child and obviously grew up in emotional turmoil. Professional guidance and strong faith in God brought him out of this turmoil and has helped him to lead an emotional stable adult life.  As he says in the dedication of this book, his “Slow Turning” is complete.

At first, one might find some of the subject matter in this book disturbing – just as disturbing as those who prey on children.  Monroe uses verse as a healer though.  Yes, exposing the truth all the while but his intention is not to shock.  Only to speak truth.

He follows each poem or song with a brief explanation on where the poem came from.  These asides are often extremely brief, somewhat of an after thought that you’d expect Monroe to say out loud after reading you the poem.  Some of the songs are even followed by guitar chords.

I have to admit that I enjoyed the poems that didn’t rhyme more so than the ones that did.  The rhyming couplets are often trite and predictable.  For example:

I stand alone this season,
Not knowing where or when.
I’ll find another reason
To feel new love begin.

Sounds a tad bit sing songy, and since some of the content is meant to be sung you could almost put every verse to music.   But then Monroe gives us verse like this:

I once had a vision but did not believe
That visions could ever come true.
My confidence wavered with each step I took,
And I carried doubt through my youth.

While “true” and “youth” do rhyme a bit, it’s not as predictable here and so the verse has a bit more depth to it.

Overall, I was well pleased with Monroe’s collection.  It’s obvious that he has put his talent to good use.  He has used his words as a healer for himself and hopes now to reach out to others like him. At 95 pages, this is a quick read – with the poems and songs on the left hand page and Monroe’s afterthought or brief explanation on the right side.

For those who have been victims of sexual abuse, or if you know someone who has, Monroe’s book may provide hope.  And for those who might just enjoy simple poetry with a motivational meaning behind it, give Slow Turning a chance.

Your mind probably conjures up all sorts of central ideas when you think of a collection of poetry called I Wandered From New Orleans:  Cajun food, the French Quarter, the Garden District, Mardi Gras, balconies, beads, ghosts, Hurricane Katrina, Bourbon Street, jazz, shrimp, Creoles… Is there any other place in this country (New York, perhaps?) that could be a cliche within itself because of all of these wonderful (and predictable) things that give New Orleans its ambiance and flavor?

Tracy Conway’s poetry is not cliche, and it’s about much more than New Orleans as a place.  As the title of the collection suggests, her poetry might have started in New Orleans, but her words have drifted and she’s found a muse in the places she’s been and the people she’s encountered.  From recalling Paw Paw’s nickname for her (Cookie) to how the dog raises his head when he hears the microwave bell in Granny’s kitchen, Conway is indeed a poet when it comes to capturing the small details of life.

Like New Orleans itself, the reader is just a witness standing in the background and looking over Tracy’s shoulder.  Tracy is a child at Show and Tell, telling her friends to “Look at this!”  And it’s not always something we want to look at because it’s sad and it’s fragile, like this very short poem called “Orlando:”

I’m packing my bags
I’m moving along,
Me, a friend, some dreams
And a dog.

I’m leaving my job
Bailing out of this prison,
The uncertainty of freedom
Is what moves me on.

Tracy doesn’t always tell us why.  She’s always looking forward, and commands the reader to look in the same direction. We want to turn around, but there’s nothing back there.  And that’s what makes Tracy’s poems so good.  You pause and contemplate each one like a mysterious piece of a puzzle.  You don’t know what came before or what will happen after, but you want to know and so you keep reading.

Tracy is also a painter.  She’s good at painting a picture with her words and showing the reader only what she wants you to see.  And you see it through her eyes too.  Here’s one such “portrait” poem called “Tracks:”

Butterfly chasing
Down old abandoned railroad tracks;
Torn up, grown over
Recycled into a narrow footpath
Or bicycle path—
Climbing over the washout
That once led to the trestle,
Neglected by man
But not by time.

The unkempt remains
Of a simpler time in history;
I have no place
Beside these tracks;
Ancient ghosts,
A narrow path.
A simple trick of fate,
This life I’m living
A century too late.

It was a pleasure to read this collection. Most poems are brief, whittled down to their bones of bare essence, the way poetry should be.  No words are wasted. I appreciate Tracy’s simple style. Any poet who can touch their audience  in such a quick moment, or a flash of words, is a master.

The book is organized into four subjects, with one poem per page. There are also 9 lovely black and white photographs laced throughout the book – a very nice touch. The book also contains a very simple index of the poems organized by their first line.  And let’s not forget the breathtaking cover!  My only regret is not getting to hear Tracy read her words out loud.

While we know New Orleans is there throughout Tracy’s work, and she shows us a side of the city that isn’t always picture postcard perfect, it wouldn’t be fare not to share a poem where the city is indeed the central focus. My favorite is “New Orleans – A View from the River:”

The Mississippi is always the same
When I watch it from the rocks
Of the bank,
A little more pollution
Each time I visit;
There’s no sense in being ignorant
To the facts.
French Quarter,
New Orleans,
Ages past, while ghosts
Of my ancestors still walk
The cracking streets.
New faces constantly
And graffiti that begs
“Stop the killing!”
In a city where the murders
Top the nation in their numbers.
The sadness of the river,
If she could carry the pain away;
The relentless flowing
Shifting and moving
Barges, ships
And gambling boats
From place to place;
New Orleans, I love you,
Though your name
Has been disgraced.

I’ve been there.  Being from Memphis, and living in St. Louis now, and having been to New Orleans three times, the Mississippi is indeed always the same. Here, it’s a right shoulder and when I was in Memphis it was on the left, a muddy gap that divides the map.

In New Orleans, when you have reached the end of Bourbon Street and walked around Jackson Square, the river is there just over the levee. And when you climb the stairs and walk out on the landing, leaving the jazz and beads and masquerade right behind you, it’s still a breath of fresh air no matter how dirty it is.

And Tracy Conway, your poems are fresh air too.

Poems are useless
Though some people read them
They’re either trying to be romantic
Or pseudo-intellectual
Or they just like it
When words
Are formatted
Like
This

Wow!  I couldn’t have said it better.  And Brandon Halsey has a lot to say in his collection of poems called Assorted Poems and Purple Prose.  At times he’s Silverstein on acid, and then the subtleties of Miss Dickinson sneak in, if she were alone in her room and masturbating. In fact, Halsey is far from “subtle.”

He eases his reader into a warm bath with some surprising rhyme and word usage, then dumps a bucket of ice over their head with his shocking subject matter and twist of events. Take for example a poem called “Homosexual Longings For A Guy Named Pete,” where a drunken night with a prom date turns into eyes meeting and friends touching, only to be slapped in the face with rejection and disgust. It’s honesty.  Brutal, but honest.

His subject matter comes easy for someone who is probably in their twenties and scribbling prose on cocktail napkins in a coffee shop while waiting his turn at open mic: pregnancy, divorce, drugs, cutting, bitter love, sex, homelessness, one night stands, alcohol, death and more. It’s what Halsey does with these subjects that make his poems unique and original.  There’s lots of sorrow on these pages, leading you to believe some of these poems were penned alone and out of frustration, but Halsey doesn’t ask his reader to feel sorry for himself – if the poems are even about him.

Most of the poems carry an asexual tone to them, as if he wrote them for someone else – a guy or a girl.  And most situations presented in his verse could actually be applied to either sex.  Here a few painful verses I liked from a poem called “One Night Stand.”

I’ll grit my teeth and soon it will be over
You’ll pass out right after we screw
Like a hooker I’ll disappear into the night
Because I can’t bear waking up next to you

And soon we’re all hold captivate
By the bad choices we make
We walk around with clouded minds
Another lover, another mistake

Then there are poems that present an entire story from start to finish like one called “Zoë.”  This poem traces the life of a girl from an early age all the way through college as she desperately searches for love and acceptance, only finding tragedy everywhere she turns.  These longer poems are broken up by “deep thoughts” that Jack Handy would be proud of, like this one called “Wise Man.”

A wise man once said
(And that wise man was me)
“It’s time to grow up
And do the naughty things grownups do.”
After I said that
She slapped me
And left
Stupid bitch

The second half of the book is a series of short stories or character sketches, mostly told from the point of view of one central character and written like a speech or monologue, meant to probably be read aloud on stage as a one act.  I appreciated the fact that they are just as painful as Halsey’s poetry, giving his readers copperhead kisses and sad truth that just makes you nod your head and agree because you’ve been there.

I would have liked the stories and poems to be interlaced rather than being two defined sections.  After reading through the poems, reaching the stories just seemed a bit heavy for the end of the book. But that’s all just layout.  I did enjoy the shorts just as much as I did the poems.

Halsey’s work is a bitter cup of coffee, and just when you think you’ve put in enough sugar to be able to stomach it, you turn around and spill it all over your shirt.  And it’s a Monday.  And your dog died.  And your car won’t start.  But it’s happy hour tonight at your favorite bar and that girl you like waits tables on Monday.  So you smile.  Then you get to the bar and learn that girl got hit by a bus on her way to work so your Monday is pretty much ruined.

At one time or another, we’ve all been there.  It’s nothing new. But this poet and storyteller’s presentation and point of view is unique and priceless.  Mr. Halsey, I toast you!

April Chartrand has a long list of credits to be proud of, besides being both the author and illustrator of her book entitled Angel’s Destiny:

CHARTRAND’S articles and poems have been published in the Bay Area Reporter, Oakland Tribune, Whazzup! Magazine, and Family Violence Prevention Fund’s – Think How Your Life Would Have Been Different If Someone Had Helped You. She has been featured on KQED Radio’s Forum, KPOO Radio, KTVU TV 10:00 p.m. News, KRON Bay Area Back Roads and KTVU TV Bay Area People. Chartrand is a national award-winning fiberalchemist. Her art work is displayed in the Atlanta Life Insurance Company’s private collection. July 1, 1997 was April Martin Chartrand Day an honorary Proclamation issued by former San Francisco Mayor Willie Lewis Brown Jr. The City and County Commission on the Status of Women awarded Chartrand with the 1998 Isabelle Cerna Award, San Francisco Board of Supervisors Certificate of Honor (two presented 1998/2001), and a San Francisco Public Library Unsung Hero Award presented by Supervisor Sophie Maxwell in 2001. Chartrand holds a B.A. in Creative Arts (Center for the Experimental Interdisciplinary Arts) from San Francisco State University.

I have to say there is just as much information, if not more, packed into this tiny book. So much in fact that it is hard to tell where the actual book begins. The front matter of the book is 18 pages long and includes both a Foreward and Dedication before the Table of Contents for both the poems and the illustrations.  The front matter is also numbered with Roman numerals and the author’s name, including the blank pages.  However, there aren’t really any blank pages because even those pages contain a small illustration that is sort of used as a spacer through the book (the same image that appears on the front cover).

The book then begins misnumbered on page 21.  Most chapters begin with or are broken up with quotes from other authors.  There are only about 60 poems in the book, followed by about 30 illustrations (1 per page) that are boxes containing four mirrored or reversed images of the same picture, some of whose main single image have already appeared as chapter headers earlier. We then have 10 pages of permissions, book information, a bibliography, notes, acknowledgments, and an author biography.

By now, you don’t have to guess that the book is an overload of senses, emotions, and information.  I wasn’t overly impressed with the black and white digital images and would have liked to have seen their use been a little bit more minimalistic – possibly one image paired with one poem. I do like Chartrand’s style which reminded me of the illustrations from early editions of Alice in Wonderland. Would have loved to have seen them in color although that would definitely increase the list price of the title.

As for the poems, they too appear a bit wordy in places.  Arranged to take you through an array of emotions from love, sadness, and anger, there was nothing that really stood out at me except for the angry parts.  Here’s the first two verses of a poem called “Demonic Lies:”

Monday morning Rumor Monger’s tongue lashes out
for all to see.
Painting red-tongued accusation beats of fantasy.
You did this and this . . . you did that and that . . .
a-rat-tat-tat-tat.

Rumor mongers and shit-stirrers,
don’t want peace for thee!
Yet they hide in dark places,
comforted by their muckraking glee!
People’s lives are torn up by your
vicious tornado lies,
a-rat-tat-tat-tat.

Read allowed, you can definitely feel the intensity and emotion, as it is with most poetry. But for the page, particularly a poetry collection like this with graphics, simplicity would be the key here.

Overall, this is a good effort, almost too good of an effort for a small book under 200 pages (there’s even a book trailer).  With less quotes, less front and back matter, and less repetition, the destiny of Ms. Chartrand’s book could be limitless.

POETRY!

by Chazda Albright
Lulu.com
Copyright ©2009
127 Pages
$21.45 Hardcover

With a title like that, I just had to take a look at Chazda Albright’s book.  Being a fellow poet and artist, the title alone definitely captured my attention.  Chazda introduces the book with an explanation about her medium:

The images here that are “something sort of like art” have been drawn directly in the book using tools available within the Microsoft Word program and a cordless mouse. Each image has been drawn as a
visual and spontaneous reaction to the poem it follows.

I’ve never been a fan of computer generated art or the limits and confines I myself have experienced with programs like Word or Paint.  I have tinkered with both when it comes to creating book covers – with not much luck – so I admire anyone who can do a better job than me.  Viewing Chazda’s manuscript in Google docs was quite fun since I could catch a glimpse of each upcoming page in the right hand margin before viewing it full size.  Here’s a sample:

This sun pattern accompanies each poem for about the first 90 pages.  The poems are each broken up by a piece of “Word” art, which also has the same sun pattern as a border.  I didn’t mind the border at first although it does take up quite a bit of each page, but once the border disappeared from the poems and art on page 90 I almost felt like the poet/artist in Ms. Albright had been set free…free from the limits and confines that computer programs can place on our talents.  It was also nice to see the “greeting card” feel of the book go away. At this point, the art also changes and has more of a sketch book feel to it which I think is very appropriate in poetry collections.  I much prefer the raw edge.  This small verse from this section seems to serve as an explanation:

I don’t know.
This is strange.
Nothing is responding properly.
Is it me?
The computer?
Life?

Most of the poems are rants probably best spoken out loud, like one I particularly enjoyed about people who wear sunglasses indoors and why.  I envisioned the poet wearing sunglasses while reading it and really playing it up for the audience.  There’s not a lot of rhyme to the verses, but I was glad.  I think this type of book, with its mix of poems and art, would have seemed even more “greeting card” like had the poems contained a more metric verse.  That aside, some of the poems do have sing-songy titles which I found to be distracting like “IntentionsIntentlyIntended” and “Dancing Daisies.”  Most of the time, I enjoyed the poem more itself after having ignored its title all together.

My favorite poem of the lot was actually one of the more simpler ones called “He Brings Yellow Flowers to the City.”  For me, it’s the best example of the type of word art a poem should convey.  It paints a very clear and distinct picture and leaves the viewer/listener maybe wanting  just a bit more, but left with a rambling of their own thoughts that can take them in any direction. Here is the poem in its entirety:

There’s a man
On the street corner
Selling yellow flowers
To passersby.
He’s tall and so
So thin
With inch thick black rimmed
Glasses worn high
On his face.
Salt speckled thick hair
Sweeps over his eyes
And a long, glowing white
Cigarette stands erect
Under his nose.
He shaved this morning,
But he’ll need to again soon
People, people
Take a flower and
Carry it in the city.
Yellow flowers are here!

As for the art, it’s an odd mix of shapes, repeating patterns,  and doodles, reminiscent of and probably inspired by the likes of Warhol, Escher, and Van Gogh. Most of it, for me personally, didn’t really create a connection between it and the poetry.  I also felt some of the art would have been better had it been printed in color when it came to pieces that used specific shapes, but that would have definitely increased the cover price of the book itself which is unfortunate. I think the connection is lost due to a lack of color.  The artwork with a border is also not symmetrical in size to the poems with borders, that while not really necessarily, does create an odd balance when you are looking at two pages at once.  Here’s an example:

My personal tastes in art lean more toward the doodles and sketches although a large carpet on my living room floor displays a repetitive pattern of squares and circles resembling martini olives that I believe Mr. Warhol himself would have loved. I certainly appreciate pop art, but I think the lack of color is what turned me off to most of the pieces in this book.  But, I did particularly like the sketches that were meant to resemble people.  Here’s one of my favs called “unartist.”

The biography of Ms. Albright in the back of the book lets us know that she is self-taught, but has had a number of personal art exhibitions throughout the western US and in Germany. She has written some erotica under a pen name and is currently at work on a fantasy thriller screenplay. You can view her ePortfolio at www.chazda.com.  And you can preview POETRY! at fReado.

I commend Ms. Albright for using self-publishing to its full potential in creating both a work of art and a collection of poetry that is exactly what it should be: a presentation of one’s true self.  Like a good museum or a good book, I enjoyed my time here.

]]> http://llbookreview.com/2009/12/review-127-poetry-handle-with-care-by-chazda-albright/feed/ 0 http://llbookreview.com/2009/11/review-119-dervish-by-james-mirarchi/ http://llbookreview.com/2009/11/review-119-dervish-by-james-mirarchi/#comments Sun, 08 Nov 2009 13:00:00 +0000 Shannon Yarbrough http://llbookreview.com/?p=2845 Dervish
by James Mirarchi
Lulu.com
$10.00 Paperback
Copyright ©2009
ISBN: 9780557084319
76 Pages

At only 76 pages, Dervish by James Mirarchi was a quick read but is a prime example – I’ve pointed out many here at LLBR – of an author embracing self publishing to truly capture his creativity. The book sells itself as a collection of poetry, but actually opens with a brief one act play and ends with a short story, reminding me of the editions of the “Concise Book of Literature” from college English courses, still adorning my bookshelf today because they contain some of my favorite short stories and poetry.

The one act play takes place in a beauty salon and is called “MakeUp.”  It’s a conversation between a beautician named Bridget and an older customer of hers named Alexandria. The two trade compliments and insults as Bridget attempts to “beautify” Alexandria, but Alexandria believes there is no hope for her aging face.  Their dialogue is a bit Victorian, but does contain such gems as this from Alexandria:

In my twenties, lacquered men would kneel at the altar of my chest and drink from my nipple chalice. Now, only the homeless and derelicts flock to me for charity. Ohhhh, I beckon every soap opera equestrian, every Renaissance stud to frolic on my Harlequin stage, where a spotlight of my blood shall woo them.

And this from Bridget:

God has switched careers – he is no longer a baby dispatcher who assigns placenta posts, but a magician for the
“deformed.” I can’t believe my eyes!

And I couldn’t resist this line from Alexandria either:

Has your hair dye seeped into your head and colored your brain sinister?

Only fourteen poems follow, and while I usually try not to compare poetry of one poet to another poet I’ve reviewed, I have to admit that Mr. Mirarchi’s verse is a bit more refreshing than others I’ve read lately.  He’s also a word artist, taking full advantage of the white canvas which is the page in front of him, spreading his words out, playing with position and form, and giving the reader a few new images that were definitely new to my brain. Here’s one of my favorites from a poem called “Tornado:”

Once
When the heavens were brawling
I looked up in the sky
And saw Destiny
Naked and bored
Sitting at his barometric sewing machine
His foot dancing on pedal

His sewing machine is life, its pedal thunder, its needle lightning, its thread
ornate clouds ….

Mr. Mirarchi also has a talent for presenting a brilliant and detailed character study in very few words, from a glimpse of  selfish Victoria strolling amongst Christmas litter in a poem called “Remains,” to a dandelion named Sally and a bee named Rambo in “Bumblebee;” and in another holiday poem called “The Gift” where a young boy receives a baby alien from his father.  The poet abandons tedious verse and rhyme and tells a story in short lines that definitely leave you eager for more detail, but after a second or third read you find that everything you need to fulfill the story is right there in the two dozen or so lines. They are indeed fascinating story poems.

My favorite out of all the poems is called “Propaganda” and tells the story of two bands headlining at a club: lesbians with shaved heads who call themselves The Mothers and a group of heavy metal male skinheads called Smashfist. It’s a grapevine soap opera of sorts that goes well beyond the conflict between the two bands and becomes a story about ghosts attempting to save a pair of roommates from their apartment’s handyman. Weird? Absolutely!  But so odd and in-depth you can’t help but read it again and again.

The short story at the end is called “Lips” and is sort of a “Day in the Life of” piece following an angry boy named Eric.  It reads like the stage direction of a play, and in short choppy sentences almost like it might have started out as a poem instead.  I actually think it would have worked better as a poem rather than being arranged into paragraphs to become a short story.  It was my least favorite of the anthology.

Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed this short collection from James Mirarchi and wouldn’t have minded it being a bit longer. Both original and extraordinary, and a bit bizarre at times, I found Dervish to be quite a refreshing read.

You can check out a preview and decide for yourself at Lulu.com.

After reading this short collection of poetry by Judy Ann and Christina Eichstedt, I immediately thought the title of the collection, Whispers of Truth, was a bit ironic. None of the poems convey a message that you think would be whispered, but instead are passages that sound like the poets would want to scream at the top of their lungs.  They even say so in the book description:

Every poem in this book will scream a message to it’s reader, a message that cannot be ignored. Not any more.

These poets draw their inspiration right from the headlines of today: war, teenage pregnancy, the abuse of the planet, depression, government, religion, the poor, the homeless, hunger, health care, suicide, violence 9/11, nuclear war, single parenting and more. I have to admit with a list like that, there aren’t many poems in this book that leave the reader with even an ounce of hope.

Being such a short collection, I would have liked to have seen an even balance of both “dark” and “light” poems.  Maybe the two poets could have even divided the book into four sections, each writing their own “good” and “bad” poems or each writing a different poem about the same topic.

Spirituality also plays a very important role throughout many of the poems.  There are an array of poems about God and Satan, evil and enlightenment, prayer and hope, good and evil, judgment and the “end of days.”  I think poetry of this genre definitely has its place and can be appreciated, but in a book that “will scream a message to its reader,” topics like this can come across as a bit “preachy.”

The majority of the poems follow the simple AABB or ABAB rhyming pattern.  There is no punctuation (which I prefer) and the rhyming scheme doesn’t seem too forced.  There are a few grammatical errors, but practicing poetic license, some of the mistakes give the poems a bit more texture.  In a collection so heavy with depression, religion, and anger, it was hard for me to pick a favorite.  I chose to quote this poem though that, while offering no sense of hope in the end, is a good representation of what many people probably worry about in today’s economy:

TOMORROW’S WORRIES
Will I wake in good health?
Or will the lack of a doctor be the death of me?
Will I have a job?
Or will I be the next to receive a pink slip?
Will my beat up car last the day?
Or will I be walking home in the snow?
Will my stomach remain full?
Or will the food run out?
Will the money stretch far enough?
Or will I choose between the water and lights?
Will I have to find a second job?
Or will I get to see my children more?
Will my children see that I tried?
Or grow to hate me for all they lack
Will I manage to make the rent?
Or will my family live in the streets?
Will I finally get my break?
Or will I be left to struggle through?
Will I have the faith to carry on?
Or will I break under the pressures of this life?

While the front matter of the book is poorly executed and I think the cover price of $13.95 for such a short paperback book of poetry is a bit too much, the poems that are here are not too bad overall. But I would have enjoyed it a bit more had there just been an equal amount of “positive” poems to balance out these heavy topics.

In reading just the back of Richard King’s collection of poetry, one will see that the book was inspired by many things: karma, reincarnation, transmigration, destiny, devotion, vegetarianism, attainment, the human form, love, morality, heaven, hell, the inner regions, justice, the nature of this world, illusion, deception, success, money, the Pendulum, the struggle between this world and the higher worlds and much, much more.

Wow!  That’s quite a list of unique and interesting topics, some of which I’d never dream I myself could write a poem about.  At first glance, some might think some of these subjects are a bit heavy and the poems will probably just seem preachy or forced.  I have to admit that 99 Poems of the Spirit is not such a collection.  As I’ll discuss in this review, King’s use of images and words may shock you, but it is apparent that the themes and subjects are all things he, as a man and a poet, are well versed in.

Just the word “inspiration” tends to become a bit flat when using it to describe writing because we each find our own types of inspiration in different works.  Some work may inspire you religiously.  Some may inspire you to lose weight or take up a new hobby.  It’s obvious to see that at the root of “inspiration” is the word “spirit;” both words originated from spīrāre which means to breathe.  And in reading King’s poetry, you’ll discover that with each poem he set out to awaken (or inspire) your inner spirit.  Here’s one example from a poem called “Incarnation’s Game:”

Life to life our faces change.
Likewise do our names,
gender, form and personality–
Incarnation’s Game.

Craving spawns attachment.
Attachment pulls us back
We could not be a prisoner
without a sense of lack.

And another from a few verses of “From the Flame:”

Consumed is man with caste and clan;
false status rests in name and fame;
thus, ignorant is he of The Plan -
all men spring from the same Flame.

How then can there be class distinction
when all are born and will remain
ever reflecting identic Life,
Children of the Changeless Name?

I also appreciate King’s poetry because there aren’t a lot of words on the page.  The ability for a poet to say so much using so little is true talent. King obviously possesses a vast knowledge of words because I discovered a lot of new word use and word play in his book that I have not seen much of since reviewing poetry for LLBR. His simple rhyme schemes of ABAB and ABCB also make the poems flow off of the tongue easier if you take the time to read a few of them out loud as they should be. There’s just a touch of rhyme in the right places to help the poem flow and to keep it interesting, but not too much to make the poems sound too sing-song.

If you are searching for some good food for the soul, I highly recommend King’s 99 Poems of the Spirit.  The collection is very different and refreshing, and not repetitive.  There truly is something here to inspire everyone, like Poem 99, one of my favorites, entitled “Yours is not the Earth.” I’ll close with a verse from it because its an excellent note to end on for this review and the poetry collection:

Yours is not the earth.
It is the universe
and everything beyond.
It is the sky which lies beyond
the realms of distance run;
it is the light which emanates
from a live, yet unknown sun;
it is the sea which rolls and roars
in another universe and time;
it is the undiscovered passages
beyond the corridors of Mind.

Read a Sample of 99 Poems of the Spirit here.

Poetic Reflections: A Compilation of Poems

Having used self-publishing to create a chapbook of my own poetry three years ago, I can appreciate any other poet who does the same.  Poetry can be very personal, and often goes under appreciated in the publishing world.  Many readers will admit they don’t understand poetry. So any poet choosing to put their words out there in front of others, whether it be at an open mic reading at a coffee house or in a small book on Amazon.com, is often revealing a lot about themselves as a person, their emotions, their feelings, their beliefs.

There are different rules to poetry, if any rules at all are followed because poetry is often experimental.  The rules are a bit more relaxed than they are for fiction writing, particularly when it comes to phrasing and punctuation.  Candace Gillespie’s book, Poetic Reflections, is a good example of one such poet who does not abide by a traditional format and I can appreciate that.  Her book begins with a simple preface as to when and why she started writing poetry and what types of poetry you’ll find in her book.

This is followed by an acknowledgements page, a dedication to her son and nephew, and a lengthy table of contents.  I don’t really like a table of contents for poetry unless the book is divided into chapters of different types of poems. Candace’s table consists of every title of every poem in the book so the table is five pages long. There is no copyright page, but I can forgive that.  If Candace’s audience is made up of mainly friends and families and that is who she intended the book for, no problem.  However, since the book is being sold on Amazon.com, she might want to consider adding a copyright page just to protect her work from possible plagiarism.

I have one major complaint about Candace’s poetry itself which I’d like to get out of the way immediately.  I call it the magnet list.  We’ve all seen those boxes of little word magnets you litter your fridge door or filing cabinets with so people can create clever poems and phrases.  Often, people will cluster three or four adjectives or nouns together because they sound good.  It makes a nice list of “impact” words, until you put them into a verse in a poem.  In a poem, it just sounds like the poet overused their thesaurus a bit.  Many of Candace’s poems open with a magnet list in the first verse.  Here are three examples of this from three different poems…

There is so much madness in the world today.
Many people have no morals or values.
People are raising their children
to hate. Atmospheres filled with anger, hatred,
and violence plague our country.

In the beginning, you were different-
gentle, humble, kind, and loving.
As time passed, you changed.
You became almost like a stranger,
very different in your actions and attitudes.
And I began to miss the first you.

In life, we endure many hard times.
It is not about social, racial, or
educational status. It is just a
normal part
of life.

As you can see, the words themselves might sound good in a speech or by themselves, but in a poem its as if the author is summing up a thought rather than using the poem to really spell it out.   And as I said, this is really my one sole complaint about Ms. Gillespie’s poetry.

Beyond that, the poet begins by exploring quite a few thoughts and complexities on love, being a woman, and relationships with men.  Mind you, these are not tender love poems you’d find in greeting cards, but rather poems where the narrator is seeking out something better and questioning the moments in life she has been presented with instead. Here’s a verse from a poem called “At Any Given Moment” which presents a harsh truth for many women…

At any given moment, whenever there is a
disagreement my name becomes one
I was not given at birth. Only a short time
before that, I was darling or sweet cakes.
When anger ensues, my name
becomes one filled
with obscenities.

But these are not all bitter poems of heartbreak.  The poet balances out the hard times and good times with other verse about hearts skipping beats and romantic times that might even make the reader blush.  She explores arguments she’s had with her loved ones, and even the hardships of having to say good-bye, whether it be for a short time or forever. Many of her poems read like daily affirmations that are simple, but to the point:

My mistakes are others gain.
My triumphs are others sickness.
My goals are attainable, measurable,
and possible.

When it comes to visual style, all of the verses are centered just as I’ve presented them here.  I would have liked to have seen Candace play with the placement of her poems a bit more just to make the book a bit more interesting to the eyes.  Small verse leaves a lot of white space on the page and if you aren’t using pictures or drawings, aligning the poems differently throughout the book can at least make it a tad bit more appealing and give the poems movement. But overall, Poetic Reflections is a nice simple collection of poems Candace should be very proud of.