Tag Archives: poetry book

Sum and Substance by K Pankajam

sumAuthorspress, New Delhi, 2014

ISBN 978-81-7273-962-1

Review by Shernaz Wadia 

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This is a collection of poems written in forthright, simple language. The poems have an undercurrent of morality but Pankajam does not write like a preacher or someone who believes her destiny is to change the world. It remains for the reader to glean the pearls from between her words and lines. She writes quietly, reflectively, spraying quotidian subjects – Bus Journey, A Surprise Visit, Signboards, My City Seldom Sleeps, Rain Skills, Before The Ink Dries – with freshness and vibrancy.
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Resolutions will immediately resonate with the habitual resolution makers. Many will ‘rewind’ with the poet and ‘think of the debt I could not pay, the promises I could not fulfill’  She takes us relentlessly through each month of the year to finally wind up where we started, with “a fresh list for yet another year”.
She finds Faith everywhere from a plain sheet of paper to everything in nature. It is ‘in our expectation of a daybreak after pitch-dark nights, while our existence next moment/seems beyond prediction.’  
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She writes lucidly about the Indian customs, rituals and ethos she is a part of. (The Pipal Tree, Vishukkani, Hopefully…, Gruhapravesham) Nor does she shy away from what might be termed ‘superstition’. In Stains (Pg. 33) she visits childhood memories of her grandfather’s quirks.  Language of Childhood bemoans the loss of innocence and voices the universal desire for a return to it while Second Childhood compassionately revives the memory of an uncle who had slipped into dementia.
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 When the world is tooting gender equality and women of substance are feted, her women-centric poems stop us in our tracks and compel us to take a look at a different reality. ‘Morning Blues, Yielding… ‘You Are (Not) a Working Woman’, is the dismal tale of every homemaker, whose relentless toil is taken for granted even though she works herself to the bones. 
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Inching slowly, she saunters towards the bed
And slithers into the waiting arms. He murmurs:
“Thank God you are not a working woman!”
Her day continues…
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‘Solitude’s Whimper’ is one poem that shatters our complacency. It shames us out of our apathy as we stare with a dumb ache and with “the walls bleed silently”
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If a philosophical vein peeps through poems like The Journey, A Little Secret, The Ultimatum…, the poet’s humour drips from poems like ‘A Surprise Visit to a Bachelor’s House’.  I couldn’t help but smile at ‘A Momentary Impulse’ a poem most will be able to relate to
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No sindhoor on the parting line/a milky path to the kingdom of love/that kindles his passion to leap a bit.
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In ‘An Orchestra’ she becomes ‘a song in the concert’. In Muse-Inspired she says,
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Salty breeze from Bay of Bengal….give rebirth to my sunken moods/ raises my spirit to its meridian splendour/and soaks my soul in the pavilion of passions.
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Some subjects have been written about endlessly, but they don’t lose their poignancy. Life Is a Circle is a heart-wrenching letter from a parent in an old age home which concludes with the lines
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I taught you all about life
maybe not about relationships
and I write to say:
Don’t tell your son I am here.
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Another evergreen subject for poets is Mother. Pankajam’s ode to her’s is ‘You Visit Me in My Sleep’.
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In my sugared memories of the past,
your face blooms like a lotus that meditates
unfolds at sunrise, upright,
with flawless beauty and virgin purity.
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In Sum and Substance Pankajam serves us a varied fare which is appetising, appealing and satiating. There is a sprinkling of nature poems, love poems, poems that throw a search light not only on society but on her inner realm. We are carried along on her words as she questions, wonders, dreams, empathises, hopes and muses.

 

 

Shernaz-Wadia3– Shernaz Wadia, a retired teacher, lives in Pune, India. A free-lance writer, her articles, short stories and poems have been published in many online journals and literary magazines like Muse India, Boloji, Kritya and The Enchanting Verses etc. Her poems have been anthologised in Poets International, Roots and Wings and Caring Moments. Shernaz is in the process of publishing her poems in a book titled Whispers of the Soul.. She has also co-authored a book of poems titled “Tapestry”, with Israeli poetess Avril Meallem. It is an innovative form of collaborative poetry writing developed by the two of them.

Recommended Reading for National Poetry Month 2

This is the second in a series of recommended books to read for National Poetry Month by the editors of The Fox Chase Review and hosts of The Fox Chase Reading Series

g emil reutter 2

From g emil reutter

 do-not-rise

Do Not Rise by Beth Bachmann

http://www.amazon.com/Not-Rise-Pitt-Poetry-Series/dp/0822963280

 pom

Pomegranate, Sister of the Heart by Carlos Reyes

http://www.amazon.com/Pomegranate-Sister-Heart-Carlos-Reyes/dp/0983997527

 i-ate1

I Ate the Cosmos for Breakfast by Melissa Studdard

http://www.amazon.com/Ate-Cosmos-Breakfast-Melissa-Studdard/dp/0988944758/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1411651757&sr=1-1&keywords=i+ate+the+cosmos+for+breakfast+by+Melissa+Studdard

 city

City of Eternal Spring by Afaa Michael Weaver

http://www.amazon.com/City-Eternal-Spring-Pitt-Poetry/dp/0822963256/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1411581449&sr=1-1&keywords=city+of+eternal+spring+by+afaa+michael+weaver

 church-of-the-adagio

Church of the Adagio by Philip Dacey

http://www.amazon.com/Church-Adagio-Philip-Dacey/dp/0989705145

-g emil reutter lives and writes in the Fox Chase neighborhood of Philadelphia, Pa. He can be found at https://gereutter.wordpress.com/about/

Asking My Liver for Forgiveness by Rob Cook

liverPaperback: 70 pages

Publisher: Rain Mountain Press; First edition (September 1, 2014)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 098970517X

ISBN-13: 978-0989705172

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Review by Dennis Daly 

 One part obsession, one part surreal, one part experimental, Rob cook’s new collection of poems, Asking My Liver For Forgiveness, delivers a consummate parable of medical terror. According to the book’s Afterword Cook contracted an obscure liver disease back in 2010 which in turn triggered the ravages of cirrhosis. Until an official diagnosis surfaced in early 2014 the poet and his world spiraled into a maelstrom of unpredictable physical pain, emotional ennui, and psychological denial. Through it all he kept writing.
 
Cook’s poems themselves leak pus, blood, and sweat off the page and into a syringe-fired dreamscape of alternating hopelessness and healing. At the same time the patient’s offending liver becomes independent, animal-like, and even sentient. Poetic order imposes itself on the havoc and illogic in a calming, almost climatic, way.
 
Early in the collection the poet objectifies his body parts in an effort to understand the disease darkening his consciousness. In the poem entitled Your Body That Led This Far Cook asks some pertinent questions,
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Is your sugar flu at least one moment’s
true loneliness? Is your liver a frightened
animal huddled near your tummy
that reads the notes inside the harsh breads
and chilis you send it? Does your heart
already know the direction of your grave?
How do you know which kidney
Can be trusted? Which arm?
Which leg? Which eye?
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Courting sleep at the Marion Hotel in his poem entitled Blackness Over Motel Country, the poet concocts a nightmare conversation with the dreamed up visage of a hospital nurse who once tended him. The coordinates of terror reduce “the best possible sleep” to a blend of anxious confession and jaundiced lunacy. Cook explains,
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“I got sick without once leaving my childhood,” I tell her.
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“The pine needles will not hurt you from there,”
the woman says through her conduit of ash tray static.
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It is not my own voice, the despair of the television
that doesn’t end. “I am always watching from
the livers that came before you,” she says
when the sleep creatures pass like a blur of doctors
and their searchlights of mist. Maybe she discusses
my elevated comet count with the man selling
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the letters left in the vacancy sign …
War metaphors monopolize commiserations on diseases. Cook’s immune system turned on its own vital organ, the liver, considering it an alien force bent on mischief. Brigades of soldiers were sent to destroy the offending party. The poet employs this battlefield metaphor in order to comprehend his internal chaos. He uses his title poem, Asking My Liver For Forgiveness, to reconcile with his former ally. Cook explains,
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… it’s taken
how many years  to remember you
slogging without faces
through my liver’s venereal swamps?
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To walk with precision
through my liver that cannot be
comforted from the snake-hard cold,
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its dark churches where monsters pray,
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the ones I let in who will never stop
stalking us, my friend, my liver,
my friend.
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I will always be sorry—for both of us—
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The poem Cryptogenic Cirrhosis chronicles a very bad diagnosis. Cook’s persona spelunks his way through gothic caves of anxiety and medical unease. Facing the unknown of one’s mortality forces the artistic mind to focus and refocus its imaginative powers on the minutia of whatever is at hand, presumable scientific certitude (or not). The wording evokes a strange and soaring elegance. Cook opens his poem with dissolution,
not one doctor could diagnose
each day i wanted  
a different angel to die,
so they pillaged
all the terrors in my body,
which was a virus now,
though not yet pain.
“you have cryptogenic cirrhosis” –
meaning the hypothetical afterlife
will become, in the days of
the impending panic transplant,
more than just a child who nourishes a distant cancer.
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Still, one can feel dollars
Of damnation denominations
Pasted to the kidneys’ Egyptian ceilings
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End of days bring panic, religious fervor, and great expectations. Cook’s poem entitled 11:59 chronicles all three using a mixed combination of Christian and medical imagery. The result both impresses and scares the hell out of you. Here’s the heart of the piece,
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It is time to track god, digging
with his enormous cross in the wrong
direction, toward the thousand basements
of the last crucifix company between
jerusalem and the day after.
It is time for everyone to stay silent.
It is time to hear where the trees and the water
have stopped praying for us.
It is time for a hospital
without the cruel voices that arrive
from the center of the evening pills.
It is time for a breakfast without scalpels,
a nurse without tourniquets that monitor the liver’s fear,
a doctor without the elimination of names.
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Notice the repetition of the phrase “It is time.” Cook seems to work himself up to a crescendo of control and hope that greatly tones down the panic and pessimism created by earlier pieces.
 
Exceptional artistry originates from diverse experiences, many of them disconcerting and even degrading. One’s flesh follows its own genetic and environmental script in spite of our better, often antiseptic, angels. Wherever Cook may be on mortality’s time span, his poetic work inexorably advances before him with its surgical candor and its strange, unblinking imagery. If you harbor even a modicum of belief in the curative power of words, read this marvelous poet.

 

You can buy the book here: http://www.amazon.com/asking-liver-forgiveness-Rob-Cook/dp/098970517X

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Dennis Daly

Dennis Daly

-Dennis Daly has been published in numerous poetry journals and magazines and recently nominated for a Pushcart prize.  Ibbetson Street Press published The Custom House, his first full length book of poetry in June, 2012. His second book, a verse translation of Sophocles’ Ajax, was published by Wilderness House Press in August, 2012. His third book of poems entitles Night Walking with Nathaniel was recently released by Dos Madres Press. A fourth book is nearing completion. http://dennisfdaly.blogspot.com/

 

New Release- I Ate the Cosmos for Breakfast by Melissa Studdard

I ATE

“Melissa Studdard’s high-flying, bold poetic language expresses an erotic appetite for the world: ‘this desire to butter and eat the stars,’ as she says, in words characteristically large yet domestic, ambitious yet chuckling at their own nerve. This poet’s ardent, winning ebullience echoes that of God, a recurring character here, who finds us Her children, splotchy, bawling and imperfect though we are, “flawless in her omniscient eyes.”–Robert Pinsky

“In so many ways the poems in this book read like paintings, touching and absorbing the light of the known world while fingering the soul until it lifts, trembling. Gates splayed, bodies read as books, and hearts born of mouths, Studdard’s study, which is a creation unto itself, would have no doubt pleased Neruda’s taste for the alchemic impurity of poetry, which is, as we know, poetry that is not only most pure of heart, but beautifully generous in vision and feeling.” –Cate Marvin

You can check out the book here: http://www.amazon.com/Ate-Cosmos-Breakfast-Melissa-Studdard/dp/0988944758

You can read the poetry of Melissa Studdard in The Fox Chase Review at this link: http://www.foxchasereview.org/12AW/MelissaStuddard.html

 

Tending by Laura Grace Weldon

tending-by-laura-grace-weldon
Paperback: 96 pages
Publisher: Aldrich Press (November 15, 2013)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0615913423
ISBN-13: 978-0615913421
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Reviewed by: g emil reutter 
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Laura Grace Weldon has a gentle brutal voice in this exceptional collection of poems. It is reflected in the opening stanza and closing two stanzas of Ruminating, a poem about the family cow.
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Animals are incapable
of higher thought and emotions
or so I was taught
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She moves to the last two stanzas, the gentle Isabelle is observing the farm family as she relaxes in the pasture along the fence line, ruminating….
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Isabelle regards us
from the nearby fence line
her soft lips moving
as she chews, ruminating.
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Our breath hangs in the cold air
smelling of her son
roasted with onion, herbs, wine
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In Santa Clara County V. Southern Pacific Railroad, Weldon reflects wealth traveling through rural poverty with images that pop from the page:
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The day a car uncoupled,
spilling frozen beef,
armed guards arrived to destroy the cargo
but hungry people pushed onto the tracks
They bent gladly all the way home
Bearing suppers heavy promise.
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Torn hillside nearly empty, still
those who know what it is to be broken
stand on crushed grass
staring at tracks
leading away from here.
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The poem, Making it Work, concerning domestic strife, the wife is surrounded…
Where everything is beige and brown framed in flowered wall paper.
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In these poems Weldon creates images that reflect not only the beauty of rural American life but of the brutal reality that it truly is.
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g emil reutter 2-g emil reutter lives and writes in the Fox Chase neighborhood of Philadelphia, Pa. (USA) https://gereutter.wordpress.com/

Night Walking with Nathaniel By Dennis Daly

Night-frcov copy

Dos Madres Press is now taking Pre-Publication orders for Night Walking with Nathaniel. The release date is April 30, 2014.  Go here to check out info: http://www.dosmadres.com/shop/night-walking-nathaniel-poems-salem-dennis-daly/

In Night Walking with Nathaniel, Dennis Daly skillfully draws a vivid panorama of  fascinating Salem, a town he knows profoundly well.  Its richly shadowed past contrasts ironically with its present: on Gallows Hill stands the wreckage of a playground, the Puritan Motel is now a scene of revelry.  Nathaniel Hawthorne, poet Jones Very, and innocents accused of witchcraft live and breathe again, alongside our contemporaries.  This is one of the more satisfying collections of American poems in years, a generous array of deftly crafted work, memorable for its storytelling, imagery, and verbal music.  Even readers unfamiliar with Salem will find it captivating. – XJ Kennedy

In a time when other poets have forgotten the power of a metered witnessing of history, Daly brings a rare compassion to a community’s misfortune and celebrates its dignity.  These poems are precise, the lines embellished with a craftsman’s beauty. – Afaa Michael Weaver

Dennis Daly will be reading at Poets @ Pennypack on May 10th

Recommended Reading for National Poetry Month – III

national-poetry-month-4This is the third in a series of books recommended by the FCR staff for reading during National Poetry Month.

rhdavis-1

From Robert Hambling Davis

trigger town

The Triggering Town: Lectures and Essays on Poetry and Writing by Richard Hugo

http://www.amazon.com/Triggering-Town-Lectures-Writing-

good poems

Good Poems: Selected and Introduced by Garrison Keillor

http://www.amazon.com/Good-Poems-Garrison-

hard times

Good Poems for Hard Times: Selected and Introduced by Garrison Keillor

http://www.amazon.com/Good-Poems-Hard-Times-Various-

180

Poetry 180: A Turning Back to Poetry (an anthology of contemporary poems selected and with an introduction by Billie Collins)

http://www.amazon.com/Poetry-180-Turning-

ask me

Ask Me: 100 Essential Poems of William Stafford

http://www.amazon.com/Ask-Me-Essential-William-Stafford-

 Robert Hambling Davis has published in The Fox Chase Review, The Sun, Antietam Review, Memoir (and), Philadelphia Stories, Santa Monica Review, and elsewhere. He’s been nominated for two Pushcart Prizes, and received three Delaware Division of the Arts grants, two for fiction and one for creative nonfiction. He was a fiction semifinalist in the William Faulkner Creative Writing Contest in 2002 and 2012, and a creative nonfiction winner in 2013. Robert helps direct the Delaware Literary Connection, a nonprofit serving writers in Delaware and surrounding areas. He is a member of the Delaware Artist Roster, and has given writing workshops and readings in the Mid-Atlantic.

Kerouac’s 92nd Birthday

Jack-Kerouac-007The air was soft, the stars so fine, the promise of every cobbled alley so great, that I thought I was in a dream – Jack Kerouac

Jack Kerouac was born on March 12, 1922. Kerouac was the founder of the Beat movement. Although he died at the young age of 47, his influence in literary circles continues to expand even in this new century. As Ginsberg and to a lesser extent Burroughs fade into the last century, Kerouac continues to live on mainly due to On the Road and The Book of Blues. 

kerouac

Recommended You Tube:

Kerouac on the Steve Allen Show

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QzCF6hgEfto

Jack Kerouac – King of the Beats –

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WeI_MZg7sm0

Jack Kerouac with Conservative Bill Buckley: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0KluIXx6fI

Recommended Books:

book of blues

http://www.amazon.com/Book-Blues-Jack-

on the road

http://www.amazon.com/Road-Penguin-Great-Books-Century/dp/0140283293

scattered

http://www.amazon.com/Scattered-Poems-Lights-Pocket-Series/dp/0872860647

Principles of Belonging by Joshua Gray

POB CoverPaperback: 116 pages

Publisher: Red Dashboard LLC (November 9, 2013)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1492993506

ISBN-13: 978-1492993506

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Review by Dennis Daly

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Audacity and ambition fused to a poetic temperament can get you a long way. Joshua Gray in his second book of poetry, Principles of Belonging, pushes the envelope in his artistic efforts to create a masterpiece of poetic unity. He nears a crescendo, but doesn’t quite get there. Yet he does give us a compelling narrative encompassing national tragedy, dysfunctional families, young love, and an overview of life’s ironies. That ain’t bad. Along the way Gray melds Sanskrit meter, Anglo Saxon verse, Welsh measures, blank verse, free verse (sometimes  rhymed), not to mention sonnets, other rhymed poems and a sympoe ( a strange poetic form invented by Gray).
 
The Sanskrit lines, the rules of which were developed well before the Homeric Age, soothe you with their subject appropriateness. The lines or padas are four feet of four syllables each, making sixteen syllables on a line. Excessive syllables are sometimes okay, but are not counted. The syllables are considered light or heavy depending on the juxtaposition of consonants and vowels. The rules are really simple and elegant and, in narrative forms, almost prosy. Gray avoids numerical intricacies and high art sophistications, keeping the original rule-based simplicity in his English adaptations.  Keep in mind that virtually all Sanskrit, including law, science, and mathematics, was composed in verse. For those interested in further pursuits of this form I found a book by Charles Philip Brown written in 1869 entitled Sanskrit Prosody and Numerical Symbols Explained (London 1869). It appears to be part of an academic collection and is easily located on the internet.
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Here are two padyas (stanzas) from Gray’s poem Village detailing Hindu cultural differences between the sexes,
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So honey was kept hidden away. Gan thought of when the man,
the honeywala, left last year: Gan and his brother Jay had wanted
honey; they snuck about the kitchen, but their mother had seen them, grabbed
a log from the fire, then chased the boys around the house as they ran out.
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She knew full well the boys would not be back home until late; the law
states that women must not eat before the men (and boys); thus,
she and Devi, her teen daughter, must wait until the three men ate
before either of them could. The boys stayed out past the rise of the moon.
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In the poem West Bengal Gray outdoes himself with a haunting political and personal narrative. The poet, using his Sanskrit meter, begins his piece this way,
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The next morning the train stopped in some town and everybody got off.
Hindus who rode the train roofs now descended; further off a crowd
of Muslims waited to board the train traveling the other way.
A sole chai-wala called out as he walked, clay cups in hand, hot chai balanced.
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The Table of Contents in The Gathering Principle begins in 1947 and ends with an Epilogue in 1994. The poems order themselves around human relationships tracked over the years. Oddly, Gray also orders them by poetic forms. For instance, in a section identified both with a date (1961) and the title Cynghanedd, Gray gives us three poetic adaptations of medieval Welsh verse. Cynghanedd literally means harmony and is a system of assonance and alliterations. The poet ends his piece Wildflowers harmoniously,
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On school days she’d wait, anticipating
The weekend, go to the creek and quietly
Harvest the richest hues; sometimes Bluettes
Would even mindlessly find a new future.
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With her brothers or alone, her brothers fighting or stoning
Trunks, she plucked not meanly but fondly, green and gold
And white as Fern Hill. The air could be chilling
Or warmed by the sun, the wonderful flora could take her in winter.
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Elaborate and elegant both! Gerard Manley Hopkins used this form to great effect and Dylan Thomas was clearly influenced by it.
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The sonnets and rhymed poems in this collection are a mixed bag. Some work very well. Others less well. An untitled sonnet example on page 89 that works extremely well deals with childhood’s faulty memories and compensating emotions.  Rhymes fall naturally in place infusing the story with complexity. The poet asks,
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How does one tell when another’s truth is wrong
As well? If Devi’s lost her memory
Perhaps it’s mine where truth can truly be.
I will not dance to illusion’s crippling song.
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My parents stayed behind, or so I’m told,
And didn’t travel with us on the train.
So where did all that I recall take place?
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When Jay took off and left us in the cold,
To prevent myself
From being a child insane,
I must have placed my parents in that space.
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But even the poems that clank with obvious and sometimes forced rhymes need only a minor change or two. The last end rhyme of the poem entitled Rick sounds a little off, but the first thirteen lines are perfect. The poem ends this way,
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So I went and told her why myself, but she beat
Me to the story’s end and laughed out loud:
This lady of light refused to keep me proud.
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May I suggest that Gray needs to edit a few of the rhymed poems in this collection, perhaps with a second set of eyes; and what is clearly a very, very good and interesting collection of poems may turn into a game-changer of a book. Speaking of editorial work, my favorite poem in this terrific collection, Doris/Deb, is placed on the wrong page in the Table of Contents (I’m reviewing from an electronic version). It relates the story of two struggling mothers and it reads wonderfully. Consider these lines, the first half of the poem,
Determined mothers make their children’s clothes.
I find that poverty will likely breed
Necessity. When we could barely feed
Ourselves—our kids—I quickly learned to sew,
And walked a ways for fabric, rain or snow.
I sewed a costume once for Halloween;
The ‘S’ was crooked, the cape a little green.
And later, after Rick and I had split,
The thread and needle helped me quite a bit.
A single mother is often the one who knows;
Determined mothers make their children’s clothes.
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Just for its poetic nerve and intrinsic formalist interest this book gets an “A” as in audacious. With a nod to what this book may ultimately become, I celebrate its already significant accomplishments.
 

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You can check out the book here: http://www.amazon.com/Principles-Belonging-Joshua-Gray/dp/1492993506/ref=sr_1_fkmr2_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1391856155&sr=1-1-fkmr2&keywords=Principles+of+Being+by+Joshua+Gray

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ddDennis Daly has been published in numerous poetry journals and magazines and recently nominated for a Pushcart prize.  Ibbetson Street Press published The Custom House, his first full length book of poetry in June, 2012. His second book, a verse translation of Sophocles’ Ajax, was published by Wilderness House Press in August, 2012. His third book of poems entitles Night Walking with Nathaniel has been accepted for publication by Dos Madres Press. A fourth book is nearing completion.

Bloom in Reverse by Teresa Leo

birSeries: Pitt Poetry Series

Paperback: 104 pages
Publisher: University of Pittsburgh Press; 1 edition (February 5, 2014)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0822962977
ISBN-13: 978-0822962977
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Review by: g emil reutter
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Teresa Leo has always been a poet who never hides behind the curtain. Bloom in Reverse is a collection of poems presented in stark realism in both subject matter and words. There are none of the current clichés used by those language folks nor are there any tee hee moments or a need to figure out exactly what the poet said. Leo is one of a growing group of poets who can return poetry to the mainstream by presenting poems people often have experienced in their own lives. As much as it may pain some, truth be told, people want to read poems, if at all that reflect their lives, losses and loves. Leo accomplishes this in this outstanding collection of poems written by a poet with the heart of a story teller.
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From – Elegy, Two Years Later
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I will no longer think
of her last moments on earth-
 
her final thought
or what random thing her fingers
 
may have touched
the  residue of warmth
 
that radiated there, pulsed
an undercurrent that looped
 
back into the body, spun
thourgh the neutral net
 
past organs and bones,
traveled up the spine
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so that the brain
would recognize touch
 
in its form as pen or chair,
an image that might have stayed
 
in her mind, lodged
the last image
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It is in poems such as this that Leo reminds us of the importance of passion and substance. That in fact ideas and the motivations behind them lead to poetry with a heartbeat.
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From – Home is a Four Letter Word
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There are other ways to say it-
trap, cell, rope, hell,
 
the kind of place
where she’ll pull up daylilies
 
on a cold morning
wearing only a thin nightgown,
 
and after that with dirt
still odged beneath the fingernails,
 
she’ll tear down photos
like the pornographic ransom notes
 
they are, trace evidence
of the felon she once loved,
 
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In Bloom in Reverse, Leo, brings us into her world of loss of a friend and at other times a lover. She chooses her words carefully and with great honesty.
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Teresa Leo in The Fox Chase Review http://www.foxchasereview.org/10SU/TeresaLeo.html
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g emil reutter– g emil reutter lives and writes in the Fox Chase neighborhood of Philadelphia, Pa. (USA). http://gereutter.wordpress.com/
 
 
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