BRILLIANT BLOOMS: PROMPT #159 AND GHAZAL

It has been another extreme pleasure to have William Preston return to the masthead at least for this week to help steer this vessel onward. His support and insight are unparalleled, and his work is exceptional.

We all seem to find reasons why we think no one would be interested in our life stories. That became our charge this week. Take one of those reasons and make it the title of your poem. Our “non-stories” can be more telling than any factual expose.  And so we choose the creme de la creme of this week’s work.

WALT’S CHOICES:

Two reasons that tend to prevail against the exposing of one’s story are the basis’ for my selections for the “Auto-Biography” prompt. First, why would I write a story when I have no idea how it will end? Nancy Posey brought this to light in her wonderful admission, NOT FINISHED YET. In the second choice, Erin Kay Hope presented her angst at exposing things she felt were best kept secret. There’s a story there, but that uncertainty wages a valiant battle. Read SECRET’S NOT SECRET for Erin’s Bloom winning struggle.

NOT FINISHED YET by Nancy Poesy

Any story of my life I might
write now would fall short
of the full story, leaving out
everything that comes next.

I need time to view the past
from a comfortable distance,
aligning all the versions of me
into one single protagonist.

No careful study I might make
of the dramatic arc allows me
a dispassionate vantage point
to just my place—rising action,

climax, or rolling faster toward
my resolution, denouement.
Leave my tales and their telling
to someone else, who’ll cry,
not die at The End.

(C) Copyright Nancy Posey – 2014

***

Secret’s Not Secret by Erin Kay Hope

There’s too much I don’t want the world to know,
The inner thoughts and longings of my heart,
What makes it beat, what makes the workings go;

I don’t know how I’d write without my heart,
Without telling everything about me,
And I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to start,

Cause then the world would really, truly see
The side of me I’d like kept to myself,
The deepest things reserved for God and me:

Secrets wouldn’t be secret anymore,
The latch would be broken on this dark door…

© Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2014

***

INFORM POETS GHAZAL

The beauty of this form lives in the repetition and the stand-alone couplets that lead you to its heart. There were a few ghazal that surely could have earned this Bloom. But as usually happens with me is an poem rings familiar, as if written about my own like experiences. One sure poem stands to bring me face-to-face with my ghost. Sara McNulty, you take this one for IN THE GLOW.

 

IN THE GLOW by Sara McNulty

His stomach sank, he felt so low
on this beach where their love once glowed.

She was wrenched from him, he was shown
death’s quick grip, where their love once glowed.

On the sand, he drew with his toe
a broken heart, where love once glowed.

Waves rolled in as he felt his woe
tug at him, here, where love once glowed.

He recalled her strength, knew he’d go
on with life, lucky, love once glowed.

(C) Copyright Sara McNulty – 2014

***

WILLIAM’S SELECTIONS:

Selection for prompt #159

It’s been months since I had to select one poem from the many fine ones posted by the talented folks who frequent this blog. I expected trouble in doing so, and I got it. I tried to “weed some out” as I went along, but that didn’t work; so many poems kept coming back like songs, their words and images fairly swimming before me. But the rules are the rules, so I finally selected one piece.

That piece is by Nurit Israeli. Several poems arising from this prompt dealt with the central idea that it’s too early to write auto-biographies of any kind, either to recall that which one would want others to know, or that which is best left unsaid. Dr. Israeli’s is in that vein, but it adds some delicious twists. It starts out with a Goldwynism, one of several that the legendary producer, Sam Goldwyn, may or may not have said (Goldwyn, like Yogi Berra, often was credited with things he never uttered). It then follows by liking life to a play, consistent again with Goldwyn but also recalling Shakespeare’s “all the world’s a stage.” In the midst of the poem the reader finds

I don’t know how many acts
are in the play that is my life.
Whether it is long or short.
Whether it ends slowly
or abruptly in the middle,

which has the faint whiff of a Goldwynism, whether intended or not.

In the main, however, I thought that this progressive poem emphasizes the idea that life is essentially an improvisation, a process, and that any idea of “final” is superfluous. The process involves much backing and filling, as the final line suggests, or so it seems to me. All in all, Dr. Israeli’s poem is a thought-provoking piece, and I am glad to award it my bloom for this prompt.

Dr. Israeli’s complete poem follows:

“I don’t think anyone should write their autobiography until after they’re dead.”
Samuel Goldwyn

INCOMPLETE… by Nurit Israeli

In the play that is my life
there is no script and
there are no rehearsals.
I am making things up
as I go along.

In the play that is my life
there is no director
to lead and oversee and
no prompter to cue me
when I forget my lines.

There is still no title
to the play that is my life.
I know most of the story,
but I cannot choose a name
until I make sense of the ending.

I don’t know how many acts
are in the play that is my life.
Whether it is long or short.
Whether it ends slowly
or abruptly in the middle.

And when the curtain
comes down, I don’t know
how long or how short it will take
for the play that is my life
to be forgotten.

So I improvise and I play
in the play that is my life:
There’s allure to the scenes
that cannot be foreseen,
my real and imagined −
a yang and a yin.

(C) Copyright Nurit Israeli – 2014

***

SELECTION FOR GHAZAL

I found this a difficult but challenging form, well worth the effort to realize. Several other poets apparently felt the same way, and the results were a series of pieces that made selecting just one a soul-wrenching process—again. I was sorely tempted to toss the rules and select more than one but, recalling my father’s old comment that “God hates a coward,” I finally chose one poem.

J.lynn Sheridan’s “Her son. Her son.” is the poem I chose. The language she uses is elevated, almost Victorian in tone, or so it seems to me: phrases such as “sable curls,” “treble song,” and “sweet dreamer” recall Stephen Foster for me, accentuated by the recurring “song of moonlight.” The effect of the whole is to create not just a vision but a mood that is somber but not depressing; indeed, the final line connotes something akin to reassurance, or at least acceptance. When I first read this poem I noted that “comments are almost superfluous in the face of majestic and moving phrases such as these,” and I still feel that way. It is fine work, and I’m happy to offer my bloom.
“HER SON. HER SON.” by J.lynn Sheridan

She waits like a quiet snow captured in the moonlight.
Her sable curls haloed in the treble song of moonlight.

Life loves somber prose—a thorn prick to probe our hearts,
burrowing scarlet roses inside the song of moonlight.

Rest, sweet dreamer. A wanderer grieves for love’s breath,
Savoring each note of the redeemer’s song of moonlight.

Bless the poet. Bless the winter of a hero’s flight in the night.
Verse after verse caress his flight in the song of moonlight.

Sing, sweet dreamer, the soft prayer of a warrior’s mother.
From the womb comes a cry sweeter than the song of moonlight.

Long in the land of his enemy is a fountain of cold memories.
I will fold your hands in mine and sing his song of moonlight.

(C) Copyright J. Lynn Sheridan – 2014

 

CONGRATULATIONS TO NANCY, ERIN, SARA, NURIT AND JANICE ON YOU BLOOM SELECTIONS

CREATIVE BLOOMINGS JULY P.A.D. DESTINATION REVEALED

As mentioned earlier, we are resuming our July P.A.D.

Last year we reminded you to bring the SPF as we headed for the shore for our “Life Is A Beach” Challenge. This July, don’t forget the bug spray because we’re setting up camp and getting outdoorsy this time around. We’re going to the “Granada Camp for Wayward Poets”. I’m giving you a heads up so you can “pack” accordingly. Think of anything campy and we’ll probably cover it! Don’t miss the bus, because it will be a long hike!

WE'RE HEADING   TO CAMP

WE’RE HEADING
TO CAMP

INFORM POETS – RHYME (RIME) ROYAL

A type of poetry consisting of seven lines, usually in iambic pentameter. The rhyme scheme is a-b-a-b-b-c-c. In practice, the stanza can be constructed either as a tercet and two couplets (a-b-a, b-b, c-c) or a quatrain and a tercet (a-b-a-b, b-c-c). This allows for a good deal of variety, especially when the form is used for longer narrative poems and along with the couplet, it was the standard narrative metre in the late Middle Ages.

WALT’S ROYAL PAIN:

SPRING STORM

The rumble of the thunder rings,
throughout the valley far and wide.
And in the skies the birds take wing,
searching for a place to hide.

While I sit safe and dry inside,
and listen to the storm’s wild rage;
a thunder/lightning war is waged.

(C) Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014

 

***

PATRICIA’S RHYME ROYAL :

Sunshine Brothers

Perhaps our mothers laid us in the sun
to cure our jaundice skin so deathly pale.
Desperately wanting warmth from everyone,
when our color comes back in the long run,
we can speak up and let our voices blend,
and friendships can start where the rainbow ends.

 

(C) Copyright Patricia A Hawkenson – 2014

PROMPT #156 – “YOU MAY SAY I’M A DREAMER”: GUEST HOST – PATRICIA HAWKENSON

I would be remiss if I didn’t take this moment to thank Connie Peters for hosting last week, and all the guest hosts to date. You have all contributed greatly to the success of Creative Bloomings. It continues this week with the addition of another talented and expressive artist in words and other disciplines. It’s a joy to share the spotlight this week with Patricia Hawkenson,

***

Artisan, Poet and Author Patricia Hawkenson

Patricia A. Hawkenson was an award-winning educator before her retirement, but now she is a full-time artist offering a range of skills from stained glass kaleidoscopes, sewing tapestry handbags, creating jewelry, and writing poetry. Check out a few of her crafts on Creative Bloomings ‘CRAFT’ tab:

http://poeticbloomings.com/crafts/

You can follow her Expressive Domain business on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ExpressiveDomain

She shares her poetry with a variety of online writing communities such as: Creative Bloomings, Writing Digest’s Poetic Asides, and Hello Poetry. Selected poems were published on e-zines, such as InTheFray and Storm Sage Central. She is published in numerous print anthologies including: Poetic Bloomings the First Year, Prompted, Beyond the Dark Room, Whispered Beginnings, Fandemonium I & II, Four of a Kind, and Royal Flush. Her first full collection, “Magnetic Repulsion, 100 Poems from Desire to Disgust,” is available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble: http://www.outskirtspress.com/magneticrepulsion

If it is not jinxing fate to mention it here, Patricia’s poem ‘Plum Crazy’ is slated to be published in the 2015 Poet’s Market! It was originally written for a prompt on Poetic Asides.

Patricia is currently seeking a writing agent and a publisher for her finished historical fiction novel ‘Born with a Tarnished Spoon.’ The novel exposes the social expectations of unwed mothers and the illegal baby trade that exploited their situations in the 1930’s.

***

 

PROMPT #156 – “YOU MAY SAY I’M A DREAMER” – The poem we’re asking for this week, is based on a dream you’ve had. It could be the misty visions we have during our R.E.M. cycle, or it could be an aspiration we hold dear. Write the poem entitled, “I Once Dreamed About____”

WALT’S MYSTIC NIGHTLY VISION:

I ONCE DREAMED ABOUT ANDREA MEETING HER GRANDMOTHER

A DREAM MEETING

A DREAM MEETING

My daughters are my pride and joy. I got just what I wanted; I never “wished” for boys. As different as night and day, they both have a way of working Daddy around their finger. The feeling lingers. Melissa holds a seven-year advantage, in time spent and shared. There were many a glad moment when she “met” her grandmother, my mother, spending her last nine months together. But as short lived, they were moments I cherish in my heart. The part that staggers me and saddens this old Dad’s demeanor was that my youngest daughter Andrea had never known her grandmother. I have no doubt that Andi would have had Mom’s special favor. She has Mom’s smile.

I recently dreamed about Andrea meeting her grandmother. Any other dream would have faded quickly in the early morning light. But this dream had the feeling so real that I could feel Mom’s gentle hand leading me through the mystic midnight vision playing in my sleep filled mind. For twenty-eight years she’s been gone, but ever-hopeful, this “one more day” played like it was video taped for posterity. The sincerity of Mom’s smile while she embraced our baby – fully grown and who has only “known” grandma by photos and oft-told memories which she had come to cherish as much as we have in making them. But, there they were a generation removed and settled into the groove that should have had the chance to flourish. It would have nourished both hearts in the lifetimes they would have known. Cuddled close conversing about futures planned and wisdom handed down; secrets shared between two of my favorite “girls”. But all nights do end and dreams do sometimes find conclusion. One final photo, a keepsake to take to my waking moments and beyond. In my dream, my daughter found her missing peace!

Daughters find their way
even in dreams they can feel
moments in their heart.

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2014

PATRICIA’S DREAM:

WE ONCE DREAMED ABOUT GROWING OLD TOGETHER

There was no section
of our colonoscopies
that was scrapbook worthy,
and we had to settle
for pressing dead leaves
as they withered and dropped
instead of your balding hair,
our falling reading glasses,
or my sagging skin,
so our desires for
idyllic porch lemonade
and white-wicker rocking chairs
became improbable fantasies
that have slowly grown
into five o’clock shadows
with eye-opening dark drinks
served from our shaking hands
into old-fashioned glasses.

© PATRICIA A HAWKENSON – 2014

BRILLIANT BLOOMS PROMPT #155 AND STACCATO

I have a bit of a background in music, so it sometimes colors my writing and poetry. As with this week’s prompt, we basically assembled “Found” poems out of the song titles of our favorite performers. A great blend of artists and collected works was presented for our consideration. The INFORM POETS Staccato was a bit of a challenge, but we garners some interesting poems here as well.
WALT’S BLOOMS:
This would be a unanimous choice if Connie had been allowed to cast two votes, as she had confided that Sharon’s reworking of Janis Ian’s titles was also worthy of a BLOOM. She earns mine for this:

GETTING OVER YOU by Sharon Ingraham

(Janis Ian)

I NEED TO LIVE ALONE AGAIN
LAY LOW with PHOTOGRAPHS
MEMORIES, THIS NIGHT
WHEN SILENCE FALLS, in this
HOUSE WITHOUT A HEART
ON THE OTHER SIDE of
THE GREAT DIVIDE – admit that
LIFE IS NEVER WRONG

SHADOWS ON THE WIND and a
BLACK CROW FLYING
HERE IN THE CITY remind me
YOU’RE TOO LATE; my
CHILDHOOD HERO…
made ALL THOSE PROMISES
WHEN I LAY DOWN
I HEAR YOU SING AGAIN
see PARIS IN YOUR EYES

THROUGH THE YEARS,
THIS HOUSE witnessed your
BRIGHT LIGHTS AND PROMISES
our SLOW DANCE ROMANCE
I WANT TO MAKE YOU LOVE ME
but I’ve read BETWEEN THE LINES
While LOVE IS BLIND and
INSANITY COMES QUIETLY TO
THE STRUCTURED MIND,
WITHOUT YOU – I’LL CRY TONIGHT
but LET ME BE LONELY

And WHEN THE PARTY’S OVER
Here IN MY MAMA’S HOUSE
I’ll be EMPTY, GETTING OVER YOU
WHEN YOU LOVE SOMEONE
AS FAR AS LONELY GOES
I’ll miss your ARMS AROUND
MY LIFE but,
YOU DON’T KNOW MY HEART

DAYS LIKE THESE when I HUNGER
for TENDERNESS, want you to
RIDE ME LIKE A WAVE
I come close to BREAKING SILENCE,
wonder WHY CAN’T YOU AND I
TRIGGER HAPPY LOVE before I
recall you are a SNIPER OF THE HEART
and I should HIT YOU WITH THE GUILT
and TAKE NO PRISONERS

STANDING IN THE SHADOWS OF LOVE
ALL ROADS TO THE RIVER
TAKE ME WALKING IN THE RAIN.
I REMEMBER YESTERDAY, like
a PASSION PLAY, BIGGER THAN REAL.
I BELIEVE I’M MYSELF AGAIN
but HERE COMES THE NIGHT and look
There’s THE BRIDGE..it feels like
TONIGHT WILL LAST FOREVER

FROM ME TO YOU, LIGHT A LIGHT
DON’T CRY OLD MAN – here’s a
LOVER’S LULLABY…GOOD-BYE TO MORNING
I want to TAKE TO THE SKY…do I hear
a HYMN? No, THIS MUST BE WRONG
I am DOWN AND AWAY and hear sweet
voices rise…WHEN ANGELS CRY…

***

INFORM POETS CHOICE:

There was an interesting use of the repeats  in lines 3/6, giving a different feel to the exclamation to drive the point home. I applaud our Mistress of Forms for this take which has earned RJ Clarken this designation!

Shape Shifter

“You must not blame me if I do talk to the clouds.” ~Henry David Thoreau

I see a horse, a dog, or a pinwheel.
As a matter of course, clouds can’t conceal
shape shifts! Shape shifts! So, my mind plays
in between the bright streaking rays
where we hum and thrum and chat, because clouds
shape shift. They are the wispy folks in crowds.

I wonder why you hear something I can’t,
but does that mean we should try to supplant
our dreams? Our dreams!? I don’t believe
that should be so. I can’t conceive
of a world without dreams or clouds or words.
Our dreams are the clouds, and they sing like birds.

(C) RJ Clarken – 2014
***
CONNIE’S BLOOMS:
For “Say it with Music,” I picked “Have you ever been Lonely?” by Debi Swim. This one flowed smoothly despite a patchwork of titles by Patsy Cline and was an enjoyable read.
HAVE YOU EVER BEEN LONELY by Debi Swim

(Patsy Cline)

I’ve gone out “Walking After Midnight”
these past “Seven Lonely Days”
under a “Blue Moon of Kentucky”
“I Fall to Pieces”, feeling “Crazy”, hoping
“Someday You’ll Want Me to Want You”
cause “You Made Me Love You”,
gave me “Sweet Dreams” and I’m longing
to be “Back in Baby’s Arms” but
“Your Cheatin’ Heart”
has given me
“Lovesick Blues’
and I can only hope
you’ll “Pick Me Up on Your Way Down.”
Oh, it’s “So Wrong” that you had
“Leaving on Your Mind.”
“Now She’s Got You”
and “I’m Walking the Dog”
Under a Blue Moon.
Oh, “Stupid Cupid”
for making me love you.
“Bill Bailey,
Won’t you Please Come Home?”

(C) Debi Swim – 2014

***
INFORM POETS
For the Staccato I chose Susan Schoefield’s “It’s About Time” because I have those thoughts every spring in Colorado, and it was a fun, feel-good poem. Plus it was consistent with all the rules of the form.

IT’S ABOUT TIME by Susan Schoefild

The season that chose to never depart
froze all of my toes and iced up my heart.
It’s time! It’s time! I’m done with cold.
Bundling up has gotten old.
No nice way to say it, so please get lost.
It’s time for my achy bones to defrost.

The long wait finally comes to an end
in the great return of a long, lost friend.
It’s here! It’s here! The winter stops.
Put on my shorts and grab flip-flops.
A stroll on the beach or swim in the bay,
it’s here and this lady is set to play!

© Susan Schoeffield

 

KUDOS TO SHARON, RJ, DEBI AND SUSAN FOR THESE SELECTIONS!

INFORM POETS – TYBURN

A tyburn is a six line poem consisting of 2,2,2,2,9,9 syllables. The first four lines rhyme and are all descriptive words. The last two lines rhyme and incorporate the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th lines as the 5th to 8th syllables.

WALT’S TYBURN:

Schlepping,
slipping,
tripping,
flipping,
it’s all in jest, schlepping, slipping down,
all for a laugh, tripping, flipping clown.

© Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014

***

PAMELA’S TYBURN:

Chilly,
frilly,
silly,
dilly.
Festival’s a chilly, frilly one:
days of daffo-dilly, silly fun!

© Copyright – PSC/2014

PROMPT #153 – “A WORLD WITHOUT” AND WRAPPED REFRAIN

First, I knew this little piece of our world wouldn’t have moved as smoothly if it was without Earl Parsons. Thanks Earl for adding your dynamic flair!

Our worlds share similarities but also contains things we figured we could do without. We were able to come to grips with these “distractions” in some small way. These are the poems that stood up to earn BRILLIANT BLOOMS:

WALT’S SELECTIONS:

I will be posting my choices. I’ll choose two more if I don’t hear from our Co-host.Perhaps Earl is demonstrating “A World Without Four Blooms.”

One device we seem to not be able to be without can also be one of the most annoying and distracting. Cell phone can be a boon in an emergency. But attaching a camera to it to capture “mug”shots in ridiculous poses are certainly something I could do without. And apparently De Jackson shares this disdain. Her “A World Without Selfies” earns my BLOOM:

A WORLD WITHOUT SELFIES by De Jackson

Seriously, who
decided we were supposed to turn
the camera inward, snap
some duck
-faced nonsense to click
out to the world? Or stare
off into outer space like some
ennui flavored stone?

Ready, set?
Pose pretty
(or not)
for the camera
(phone).

Me, my
-selfie and i?
We’d rather smile
to the sky.

(C) Copyright De Jackson – 2014

WALT’S INFORM SELECTION:

The Wrapped Refrain uses four syllables (or one-syllable words) at the beginning and ending of each stanza to tie the verse in a tidy knot. Still a form that requires some concentration and thought! One that caught my eyes was a twist on the “Looking Glass” Adventure of Alice in Wonderland, written superbly by Sara McNulty.

INTO A TALE

I stepped inside the pages inked
in vibrant shades that seemed to wink.
A caterpillar sat and smoked;
he blew out words, but did not choke.
The March Hare asked me to decide,
did I want tea? I stepped inside.

Such strange creatures I ran into,
a cat that vanished right on cue.
A rabbit who was always late,
a queen whom you could not debate.
Back at hoe, I told my teacher
of those I’d met, such strange creatures.

(C) Copyright Sara McNulty – 2014

 

CONGRATULATIONS TO DE JACKSON and SARA McNULTY

INFORM POETS – WRAPPED REFRAIN

The Wrapped Refrain, created by Jan Turner, consists of 2 or more stanzas of 6 lines each; Meter: 8,8,8,8,12,12 and Rhyme Scheme: a,a,b,b,c,c.

Refrain rule: In each stanza the first 4 syllables (or 4 single-syllable words) in the first line must be the last 4 syllables (or 4 single-syllable words) at the end of the last line. This is what wraps each stanza with a repeated refrain …thus, the Wrapped Refrain.

Optional: The first stanza refrain and last stanza refrain can be joined (or loosely joined) together for the title of the poem.

EARL’S WRAPPED REFRAIN:

United States, Land of the Free

United States, the world’s torchlight
Freedom’s beacon shimmering bright
Many seek our liberty life
Escape to her; escape your strife
For the downtrodden masses, a welcome awaits
Live the life of freedom in the United States

Land of the free; home of the brave
The Red, White and Blue proudly waves
God’s blessings have poured on our land
Protected by His mighty hand
Come one, come all, be a part of the people, we
America the Beautiful, land of the free

© 2014 Earl Parsons

***

WALT’S – IT’S A WRAP

THE BOY WHO SANG SONGS FROM HIS HEART

The boy who sang love songs for her,
sang from a place that was so pure.
Heartfelt pangs sung in passion’s key,
as true a love as there could be.
His soulful sounds would fill the air and they would hang
around her heart and fill her soul, the boy who sang.

Songs from his heart, not knowing love
he reached his depths to rise above,
and people questioned what he knew,
to be so young yet love so true.
His wisdom showed in spite of his age, he would start
to reach her soul with tender words, songs from his heart.

© Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014

IT’S FLASHY FICTION FRIDAY AGAIN! – 5/2/14 AND ANNOUNCING RED WOLF POEMS

National Poetry Month had us all pre-occupied with other things, but May brings the flowers (if winter ever gets the heck outta here!) and a return to semi-normalcy. And so, we’re back to writing the Flashy Fiction and promoting it. Actually FFF never went away. Rob and Aimee Halpin were diligent in maintaining the site and for that I am grateful! Check back to the April prompts and catch up. Make their efforts worth their while!

So on returning to routine,We ask you to write a homecoming short. But, something doesn’t feel right. Go to the Flashy Fiction Friday link below as check the prompt. Then write your piece and post up. Or add a link to your story in the comment box below, or over there. But do write your little story. As we say at Flashy Fiction…Everyone has a little story to tell. Do Tell!

Furniture

CBsFlashyFictionFridayBox

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’d also like to announce that anyone familiar with the We Write Poems site would be pleased to know that the whole dynamic there has changed, right down to the name. They are now RED WOLF POEMS, (a sequel to We Write Poems) and they have amongst their leaders, some good friends of ours: Irene Toh, Marilyn Braendeholm (Misky) and Barbara Young. Please be sure to visit their site and offer them some encouragement for the success of this endeavor. There is no better way I can think of, than to contribute there on a regular basis. Follow the link above to “The Wolf”.

UPDATE – PHOTO PHOCUS, FLASHY FICTION FRIDAY,ETC.

Catching up on some creative business, I have updated the PHOTO PHOCUS album to include new images from William Preston and Robert (Rob) Halpin.

Remember these pages are available for your PHOTO art you wish to display. Also there is the GARDEN GALLERY for your art work and CRAFTS to showcase your other handiwork.

And we’re always looking for new audio readings of your poems. And if you’re shy and wish to have them read by another, we’ll be happy to accommodate you!

 

We are here to promote YOU!

With conclusion of National Poetry Month, we remind you that your efforts in Flash Fiction are also welcome for FLASHY FICTION FRIDAY. We will be reminding you each Friday with the new prompt!