Book Spotlight: Star Things

Today we are back with another book spotlight, this time for the poetry book, Star Things by Jess Parker. Enjoy.

Star Things by Jess Parker

In Star Things, Jess Parker pulls down the cosmos as if a blanket, hangs the firmament itself as if a string of festive lights to illuminate the magic in the worldly mundane. These sixty-one brief yet powerful poems work in a broad array of forms, at once playful and serious, taking risks, toying with readers’ expectations and delivering seemingly effortless coups de grâce with a sly wink.

Praise for Star Things

Josh Norman (Telescopes and Other People): “Every love, every scraped knee, every abandonment, every moon is at once familiar yet alien.” 

Cynthia Marie Hoffman (Call Me When You Want to Talk About the Tombstones): “If the stars’ reflection in a pond creates a ‘morse code’ that communications with the constellations, so do these poems transmit the intricacies of being human in orbit among the stars...holding close to the knowledge that ‘we were moondust and will be again.’”

You can preorder the book directly from here:

https://dynamoverlagcat.tumblr.com/post/657177889147617281/coming-soon-star-things-by-jess-l-parker-winner

About the Author

Originally from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, Jess L Parker lives in Madison, Wisconsin with her husband, son, and French bulldog. Her work has appeared in Bramble, Poetry Hall, Millwork, Wallop Zine, and elsewhere. She holds an MA in Spanish Literature from UW-Madison and an MBA.

Halloween Week: Dark Poetry Corner

Another installment of my Dark Poetry Corner for Halloween Week with the Banshee and Death.

Enjoy.

Banshee

Past the misty shores

from the midnight darkness

the wail of death shall sound

On the chilling wind

across the threshold stone

her piercing scream shall echo

The father will rage

The mother will weep

And the brightest son shall fall

~*~

The Final Day

Death walks the world in blackened silence

to watch life fall, the last of it to shrivel, to end

snuffed by her passing breath and lingering icy touch.

The wings of closing shadows trail her hushed steps.

She gives no mercy, no heed to screams or cries.

The sentence has been decreed. Life here is over.

 ~*~

#OctoberFrights Day Five: Dark Poetry Corner

And now dear readers, we come to the day of poetic reckoning, the day when the raven flies on dark wings and brings verse most disturbing and wicked...

Welcome to my Dark Poetry Corner

The Red Queens

Rivers flow in crimson streams

with blood a thousand-fold

and tears of the blackened damned

Seared demon mists

roil from the wormy earth

blown on brimstone winds

Can you hear them call?

Can you hear them laugh?

The Red Queens walk tonight

Spirits claw from beneath their graves,

born again with baneful verve

from cracking bones and rancid flesh

And while they howl their spite

toward this forlorn night,

they scurry to heed the summons

Can you hear them call?

Can you hear them shriek?

The Red Queens walk tonight

The Red Queens stalk the night

~*~

Fifty Fathoms Deep

Stygian squelch and salty brine

where the carrion fall to slumber

Inky black and a wet drowned hell

with the monsters coloured umber

It’s where I live

Fifty fathoms deep

The raven grave and eternal abyss

for ships that sunk from battle

flesh picked clean and washed away

Nothing left but a dead bone rattle

It’s where I live

Fifty fathoms deep

It’s submerged tears of last regrets

in the face of your abandoned faith

Whispers and screams come empty

in the home of the devil’s wraith

It’s where I died,

and rose again

Fifty fathoms deep

~*~

Shadow’s Breath

One breath

quantum shadow of your life

One breath

held shallow inside the night

One breath

clutching back your last scream

One breath

scratching against your neck

One breath is all you have left

~*~

Hellfire Moon

Upon the dead man’s hour

cradled by the graveyard wind,

sulphurous and dank,

the Hellfire Moon unfurls

Crimson glare, cast down

over shrivelled trees

dripping charcoal ichor,

as blasphemous tongues

spew virgin blood and lies

Along the shadow’s path

creep the legged beasts

their barbs so sharp and ready

The Hellfire Moon commands

their minds, their thoughts

they will bring you to your doom

~*~

And we also have a giveaway!

The October Frights Giveaway

For more October Frights Blog Hop

Scath Oran Blog Tour: The Banshee

Today, the blog is a stop on the Scath Oran book tour and I have a guest post by author Stacy Overby on one of my favourite subjects, the Banshee. I also have a look at Stacy's new poetry book, Scath Oran, so enjoy.

The Banshee

Banshees. They’re the quintessential mythical creature when it comes to creepiness and death. Many movies and stories include them, but what—beyond their shriek—do the stories tell about banshees? That question drew me to explore the myths surrounding banshees when writing Scath Oran.

Banshee Origins

The origins of the banshee are somewhat clouded, but one drew my attention. It is said that the banshees came from women who died during childbirth. These women-turned-banshees roamed, portending death, until they reached what would have been the end of their natural life. None of the myths talked about what happened from there, but the implication is that they passed into their version of Heaven or paradise. Other legends talk about banshees being created from women who were murdered. It seems that, regardless of the method, legends say banshees are created from women who meet tragic ends.

With this origin myth, the banshees would presumably appear as young women. While that was sometimes the case, it did not always hold true. This is one place where the Celtic belief in Maiden, Mother, Crone shows up. Just as often as the banshee appeared young, she also would appear as an older woman to an old “hag”. Another image from Scotland painted of the banshee was a woman washing bloodied clothes at the ford in a river. The one who saw her there washing the bloodied clothes would soon die.

The Banshee Cry

The keening and wailing of the banshee is perhaps the most classic aspect of the banshee, and the one most often thought of when the banshee are mentioned. Most legends agree that this cry is about warning someone of impending doom. Some legends say the banshee only cry at the death of a true blood Milesian Irish. Others talk about the number of banshee keening signified the greatness or holiness of the person who died.

Scholars believe the wailing of the banshee stems from a different Irish tradition. At funerals, the Irish would hire keeners to wail laments at a death. The better the keener, the more in demand she was. With this association with death and funerals, it is easy to see how this tradition crossed the line to become something more in legends.

The Fairy Connection

Another interesting aspect of banshees is that some Irish believed the banshee was a fairy woman who would bear the news of a loved one’s death. This held true even when the person died far from home and family. Thus, the banshee would be the herald bearing the news of the death before any human messenger could bring the sad tidings.

Also Known As

The banshee had multiple other names as well. She could be known as the bean chaointe, or keening woman. Bean nighe, or other variants, meaning little washerwoman or washer at the ford, is a Scottish variation to the banshee myth. The hag of the mist was yet another variation of the banshee stemming from Welsh legends. Which name was used depended on the region in which the story originated.

Other Facts

The intentions, and dangerousness, of the banshee also varied depending on the legend being studied. Some banshees were said to be closely tied to their families and their cries were sorrowful laments of the loss to the family. Other banshee legends talked of angry and vengeful female spirits who frightened and tormented those who heard her cries. A few even speak of the banshees causing the deaths they sang of, rather than just reporting them.

One of the most intriguing pieces of information on the banshee I found was about the beliefs in banshee. For many centuries, not believing in banshee was blasphemous in the British Isles—Ireland in specific. While this has waned in modern times, there are still those who believe in the existence of banshees as something more than myth and legend.

So, there you have it, a brief history of the banshees. They are featured several times in Scath Oran, including a story about how one banshee came to be. Scath Oran is available on Amazon and Draft2Digital. You can find me at www.thisisnothitchhikersguide.com.

Scath Oran: poetry from the Otherworld by Stacy Overby 

The Wee Folk. The Fae. Fairies.

Whatever you may call them, they have whispered secrets in this collection of poetry plucked from the halls of Tír na nÓg. But, be forewarned, not all is as it seems on a journey through the shining realm. Come, take a step into the fairy ring as songs of the Fae drift on the damp night air. 

Scath Oran: poetry from the Otherworld

releases September 22nd, 2018 and is available at

Amazon

Draft2Digital






For more stops on the tour check out the list: Scath Oran Blog Tour

The Official Launch of Horror Haiku and Other Poems! #OctoberFrights Day 2

On this second day of the October Frights Blog Hop, I am officially launching my new book of horror poetry, Horror Haiku and Other Poems, so today I give a peek at this delightfully dark book. Plus, there's a small poetry excerpt from the book, the book trailer, a link to the Facebook launch party, and two giveaways for copies of the book and a poster of the creepy cover art.

Horror Haiku and Other Poems

Words linger... 

In the darkness of shadows, in the distant screams. 

They whisper past the drip, drip of blood. 

The strange beauty of words hide, waiting for you.

Embrace the horror.

Venture past safe reality, into the world of terror told in verse. Horror Haiku and Other Poems brings forth surreal dread and spins it in artistic countenance. From small chilling bites of poetry, to murky morsels of fright, come find where the words haunt you, where they live and die. 

Horror Haiku and Other Poems is available on:

Amazon US

Amazon Canada

Smashwords

iTunes

Kobo

And for the month of October you can get it for only .99 cents!

And now a bit of how the book came to be...

This compilation was born from the murky recesses of social media (otherwise known as Twitter) and the blood-dripping delights of #HorrorHaikuesday. As part of that weekly event I had written many creepy poems in the haiku style, so I took those bits of verse, mixed in a few more longer style poems, and pulled Horror Haiku and Other Poems out of my publishing hat. The book contains thirty-eight haiku style poems and eighteen longer form poems to form its black innards, along with some appropriately spooky accompanying photos.

An Excerpt:

Shadows over rust

Forsaken carnival fun

mask the gate to Hell

~*~

I can’t see well. Pain.

My wife is holding something.

My eyeball. I scream.

~*~


Book Trailer

I'm holding a poetry slam over on Facebook today if you'd like to drop by: 

The Horror Haiku Poetry Slam

And now for the Giveaways!

You can check out my Halloween Horror Haiku Giveaway! (live until October 31st) by clicking on the Giveaway Tab at the top of the blog or this link: Halloween Horror Haiku Giveaway!

And here's my October Frights Book Giveaway!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

And now you can continue on your journey, and check out the rest of the Blog Hop and the delights these wonderful people have in store.

An InLinkz Link-up

Book Spotlight: Tales of a Receding Hairline

Today I have a poetry spotlight for the prolific songwriter and poet K.W. Peery and his new book, Tales of a Receding Hairline. Plus, I have a little excerpt from the book. Enjoy...

Tales of a Receding Hairline by K.W. Peery


Tales of a Receding Hairline is a collection of poetry. In the book, K.W. Peery writes about his personal life experiences. As he grapples with morality and mortality, the unvarnished truth is breathtakingly obvious. His unapologetic vulnerability is neatly embedded within each work. He has an innate ability to dig up his past and offer it to the reader as if they were sitting across the table having a conversation with him.  

You can find Tales of a Receding Hairline at:

Amazon

(Kindle available February 5th, 2016)

Or check out more at GenZPublishing.org

Poetry excerpt from Tales of a Receding Hairline: 

DAYBREAK

Before the gold of daybreak

Where sunlight warms your face

You feel a hint of sorrow

From the sins you can't erase

A long walk through the timber

For a soul that can't let go

Before the gold of daybreak

Carryin’ secrets ya never show

Before the gold of daybreak

Only truth left in your glass

Staring down both barrels

Praying the buzz will last

Trouble somehow finds you

As the depth of darkness leaves

Before the gold of daybreak

The only witnesses are the trees

Before the gold of daybreak

When your eyes are playing games

Ya swear you see her silhouette

Beyond the lighters flame

You hear a horned owl beckon

To the liar in your heart

Before the gold of daybreak

When your nerves just fall apart 

Before the gold of daybreak

When hope bleeds in the air

You strangle your inner voice

After tying him to his chair

Troubled, torn and tragic

A victim of self-defeat

Before the gold of daybreak

Long after your guilt’s asleep 

Author Bio: 

K.W. Peery is a prolific Americana songwriter and poet. He is most well known as a founding member of the Marshall/Peery Project. This collaboration produced four critically acclaimed studio album from 2005 to present. The Marshall/Peery Project frequently appear on the Roots Music Report and Americana Charts. Peery is also credited as a lyricist and producer for more than a dozen studio albums over the past decade.

Three Featured Poets and a Daily Poem #NaPoWriMo

On April 7th I hosted a poetry slam on Facebook to celebrate my book release and National Poetry Month. As part of that slam, three lucky poets were chosen for a feaure on this blog. Here are those talented poets and their delightful poems. Enjoy...

Baby Shoes

For you, Lily, who never wore shoes
on your two tiny blue feet
For you, Noah, whose only shoes

were supple, lamb-leather

without any scuffs

For you, Carl, who lost your red shoe

in a New York subway,

along with the rest of you.
May you wear shoes of gold in Heaven

© Susan Budig 2015

~*~

Colors of Happiness

Real
women
in pink

with
not

painted

paper
faces
busy
shopping
for their

little pieces

of happiness

in red

colorful

dresses

making

bright

n’ sunny

happiness
of my
dreary

long

busy days…

© copyright Daniel Shivas April 7, 2015

Image Credit: By Brian Snelson from Hockley, Essex, England (Flower Hmong women) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

~*~

COLORS

I was in life’s colors conceived and made,
And born to bright and singing shades
Of reds and greens and blues and all

The colors human eyes could even see.
And as I grew, they grew with me...
Brightly expanding into my world to show

Us all there was no point in choosing one

When all of them were there for all to see.
I became adult, a man grown and filled with
Self-certainty and knowledge that these 

Colors always with us were and would ever be

Bringing with them her love and my joy in it.
Our children were in colors conceived and made
And born to bright and singing primary shades

That made up our lives and gave us

Joy in each and all and ever one another
Life’s joyous colors carried us into forever
Until the colors began to fade in abrupt silence

All we’d done and made began to lose the luster

Of the joy from when the colors first were new
The children left and birthed their own,
Their own colors to make and see, and their own

Lives to lead and follow. But from our lives the
Colors faded surely as the last leaves of autumn.
And like the single-color white of winter, the
Death of color in our life came suddenly, no alarm
Sounded, no warning spoken, just the rapid fade

Of all life’s colors to the inexorable white of death.

© 2015 R C Larlham – All Rights Reserved to Author

~*~

And now for my daily poem.

Today is Day 11 of National Poetry Month and here is my offering:

A Smile Away From Tears

One smile

One frozen smile

One plastered smile

painted in lipstick

One false

One fake

One mask

Away

One smile away

From breaking down

From letting go

From showing all

the pain

the misery

One frozen,

plastered,

smiling,

painted

mask

away

From tears

© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved 

Book Spotlight: Colours of Poetry

Today's the release day for my new book, Colours of Poetry!

Here's a spotlight to introduce it to the world.

Plus, there's a Facebook party, and a giveaway!

Colours of Poetry by A. F. Stewart

Light through a prism, and we see colour.

Colour is all around, enveloping our lives and feelings. Through tinted shades we see the world, with emotional ties that bind.

Within the book, Colours of Poetry, you will find eleven sections, all representations of different hues, each featuring seven poems that explore the intricacies and fallacies of our world. Come and sail the Sapphire Sea and Sky, cringe at the Crimson Bloodstains, wonder at the Emerald Creation, dazzle in the Lemon Daybreak, linger in the Tangerine Sunset, sniff the Violet Petals, feel Umber the Earth, let the Black as Night and Death surround you, shiver as you pass by White Winter Bones, lose yourself in the Grey Haze, and stare up at the Silver Stars…

You can find the book at:

Amazon.com

Amazon.ca

Barnes and Noble

iTunes

Smashwords

Kobo

~

Excerpt:

Under the Midnight Sun

Here, there is no illumination

but from the misaligned sun

on the far wandering horizon

And in our everlasting days

we spend our transitory sanity

chasing gilded gleams of hope

© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart

 ~

Author Bio:

A. F. Stewart was born and raised in Nova Scotia, Canada, and still calls it home.  The youngest in a family of seven children, she has always had an overly creative mind and an active imagination. She is fond of good books (especially science fiction/fantasy), action movies, sword collecting, and oil painting as a hobby.

Ms. Stewart is an indie author with several published novellas and story collections in the dark fantasy or horror genres, with a few side trips into poetry and non-fiction. She has a great interest in history and mythology, often working those themes into her books and stories.

And be sure to check out the book release party, Colours of Poetry Slam, happening today on Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/events/357548374428534/

And enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway to win a Smashwords copy of the book:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

National Poetry Month - #NaPoWriMo

As faithful readers know I've been busy with the launch of my new poetry book, Colours of Poetry, and the upcoming book launch party/poetry slam on Facebook, but I'm still writing a poem a day this April (inspired by prompts from one of my poetry groups). So I'm posting a bit of a catch-up post here, with my daily poems.

Day 1: Posted on my April 1st, Drabble Wednesday post: 

http://afstewartblog.blogspot.ca/2015/04/drabble-wednesday-april-fooling.html

Day 2:

Swords and Dragons

Wake the kingdom, bang the drum

The gloried knights, raising steel

Gather the host, what may come

We will make the dragon squeal

The gloried knights, raising steel

Rouse the fervour, swing the blade,

we will make the dragon squeal

March to grandeur, lead the raid

Rouse the fervour, swing the blade

Dragon fire, bring all to die

March to grandeur, lead the raid

See the shadows o’er the sky

Dragon fire, bring all to die

See the shadows o’er the sky

Gather the host, what may come

Wake the kingdom, bang the drum

Day 3:

A Willow in the Yard

Weathered,

a little broken

like me

But still standing

Weeping willow

they call you

bowing, bending

But still standing

Like me

Day 4:

Memento

Bitter smoke and lingering

reminders

The open window doesn't

alleviate

The smell of your cigars

permeates

the room

me

our broken lives

I miss you,

but you’re gone

Despite the scent of your cigars

Day 5:

Crossing Between

Dividing periphery, a flow

perchance to intersect, schism deep

Soft immersion, treading slow 

Dividing periphery, a flow

wholly submerged in the undertow

Surrender, to the undercurrent sweep

Dividing periphery, a flow

perchance to intersect, schism deep

~*~

© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart

And check out my giveaway page for a chance to win Colours of Poetry:

http://afstewartblog.blogspot.ca/p/blog-page_4.html

Colours of Poetry Slam on Facebook

On April 7th, I'm releasing my new book of poetry, Colours of Poetry, and to celebrate that release and National Poetry Month I'm hosting a Facebook poetry party!

 

Check out the Facebook Event:

https://www.facebook.com/events/357548374428534/

The Party Rules are simple:

1 - Post a poem inspired by our theme: colour
2 - Post a poem inspired by or in honour of National Poetry Month
3 - Post any old poem
4 - Have fun

And as a treat for participants, I'll be picking three random poems for a feature here on the blog: http://afstewartblog.blogspot.ca/

And there's a Rafflecopter giveaway of my book:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

So, come over and post your poems and have some fun!

And feel free to invite your poet friends, the more the merrier.