Check out the poems titles and read my introduction for free! Also, if you have Kind Unlimited, you can read the entire collection!! I would also be more than happy to sign any paperback or hardcover copies.
Tag: books
I’m Published! Grab Your Copy!!
Well, after a big snafu, my first poetry collection, In the Garden of Remorse, is available on Amazon! I accidentally published it while trying to order a proof copy đŤ. A dear friend from California purchased the version with some formatting errors, but he said he would treasure it, warts and all. All versions are available right now, including Kindle Unlimited!
I did not know independent authors still got screwed on the royalties. I had to price my paperback to a ridiculous price (especially for new authors) just to get a little over $5 per sale. I think I get around $3 per sale for the ebook. That would be fine if I had a following or could do decent marketing. No one follows me or cares what I have to say. Oh, well. I’m not doing it for the money, but it would be a great perk. Due to unpopular demand, I’ve decreased all prices đ.
I hope I make a sale that isn’t family or friends đ. I need a hype man!
Stick a Fork in Me; I’m Done
I worked on my Shakespeare PowerPoint presentation for hours and a couple of hours after submission, my teacher emailed me to let me know how bad it was and that it didn’t make sense. For context, I love making PowerPoints because I can be very creative with them and every teacher before this one has loved them; most recently, my literary theory professor.
I spent most of the day crying and jerking (I don’t know why I jerk) before finally taking my anxiety medication and getting some sleep. My perfectionism did not let me not submit my final paper. I had most of it done, anyway.
On a good note, Taylor’s new album comes out in one day!! It is also Mom’s death anniversary, but I have something to smile about on that day finally. It is a little light in the dark that has been the last couple of weeks.
I don’t remember if I mentioned it here but I changed my pup’s name to Oliver instead of Oswald. He just does not seem badass enough to be an Ozzy đ. He has taken the change quite well and we call him Ollie. Adam calls him Oliver Twist, so I guess he is Oliver Twist Hemingway. He has been very helpful with reducing my stress since he is pretty cuddly, but, like Neville, he wants to lick my face when we are facing each other.
And, my goodness, these boys are so jealous! When I take them out to pee, Neville gets back on the porch before Ollie and gets on my lap. I found out yesterday that Nev’s head comes to my shoulder when he is standing on his back legs, which he can take several steps like this (it’s kinda creepy, like the Scooby Doo movie). I introduced Ollie to my sensory room and we lay on my soft rug and Mom’s Steeler throw. He did pretty well being still. I really need to get a video of him jumping off the porch; it is hilarious. I want to make a little red cape with an O on it.
Don’t Die, My Love, Now that Andi’s Gone
I’ve re-read a lot of books because of my love of reading and hyperlexia. My most-worn books are Now That Andi’s Gone and Don’t Die, My Love. I read a lot of sad YA books growing up đ. I also really liked My Darling, My Hamburger and read it a few times, as well as The Lovely Bones. I think my absolute favorite re-read is I Am Ozzy by Ozzy Osbourne. That’s a weird choice for me, considering I was never an Ozzy or Black Sabbath fan, but the book is awesome. I’ve listened to his solo stuff since (although I do love Changes).
Poetically Pissed Off
Well, I figured my intermediate workshop was going to be a challenge, but I did not know my opinions would be invalidated and my styles and voices questioned. Firstly, I had to stop centering my poetry (which is certainly a style – my preferred style at that). Then, I had to include punctuation, a formatting choice that I used sparingly, which incidentally I am being told to reverse in the new class. Now, I am not supposed to initial capitalize the first word of each new line. Who said I wanted to be a contemporary poet? Oh, and I can’t be inspired by “pop” poets like Rupi Kaur, who is the only contemporary poet I like.
Needless to say, my workshop professor and I are clashing. And I was admonished for stating the poems we read this week made no sense. If something does not make sense to me, I am going to make that clear. Just because some stuffy editors felt otherwise does not mean other people’s opinions should conform. The Emperor’s New Clothes, anybody? Suggesting I am not reading correctly and not that the poet wrote incoherently is insulting. Yellow Submarine is catchy; it is not a top-rate, meaningful song.
Raiding people’s private journals after they die and publishing them is certainly no way to set a precedent on what is the standard and now accepted. That has happened to at least two poets that I know of, Emily Dickinson being one. (She had only 10 poems published with her consent and her catalog is over 1,000.) It’s actually extremely violating and self-serving. I am here to learn, not conform or lie. This week’s reading list included the following:
coping skills lost in the flood
By CA Conrad
make you aching upwards of a
teenage broken phone
come to hear underwater
libraries up the side of
the dinner plate a
little too fast
not ungrateful like
some of âthese bastards around here
canât tap out a tune with you looking away
genies of not enough sleep
a happier location for
the war not the
easiest thing you realize
beautiful architecture
refreshing beverages
our signs read hello love us for
the century of
progress we
gave you
bombers
arriving
early here
they are
From âListen to the Golden Boomerang Returnâ
a potato
born by
shovel
I am a
bride of
poetry in
my orange
and purple
gown an
unequaled
extinction
machine
pushing
strollers through
ecosystems of
concrete and plastic
we camel through the journey
with our new playbook for
where plunging hands go
donât be weird
about this
you can be a
bride of
poetry
too
As you can see, neither poem above is left-aligned, another “rule” we were given for this week’s work.
Third Poem for the Catastrophe
By Joyelle McSweeney
O
melting rainbow that embrace this roof
O
persistent covenant
hangs around
giving us nothing, leaves its muck in the water
expects us to be knocked out by its fine colors
werenât you nothing too, werenât you
sea bottom
crunched down into fuel
and when that eggshell roof busts through
mamaâs gonna buy you
a rainbow ride for free
an illumination, an inflammation
hyperion flame headdress
dream pins in the fuel
balloons of Koolaid burst down to cool
the sticky babyâs head
plus a credit card a glock a new bible
a princess dress
a mermaid princess dress
so youâll be twice submerged
or an erased Indian princess
pajama set now go to sleep
Bureau of
This is the body of,
waiting to turn on.
graced with a little tremor,
a little-known form, a fibrous hook,
a flimsy lever that makes the jar work
a lever and a clasp
:voila. The pathetic filofax
unfurls, the owl describes;
on air; makes an apse; lopes left
off the phonepole, woodenly.
we rise above the wind park,
commemorially.
our whorled fossil, pinned open.
our emergency kit
holds aspirin. digitalis. adrenalin-in-in.
So, yeah, I said they seemed drug-induced and made no sense. For one thing, the last poem starts a line with a colon đđ. Poetry is mainly for the poet, and I am all for that expression and them writing whatever they want, but I am certainly not required to like it or be encouraged to emulate it and “learn” from it. If I can say a movie makes no sense (and in a lot of instances, I am not the only one who feels that way), I can say a poem makes no sense, because, let’s face it; a lot of them do not. If they make sense to the one writing it, that is fine; great, even. Good for them. But do not belittle me or my intelligence and opinion solely because it does not align with yours. If this is “contemporary,” I will wholeheartedly pass.
Featured image: https://poemanalysis.com/poetry-explained/elements-of-poetry/
Cari R Esta 