Thursday, March 30, 2017

Confessions by Lynn Long


The hand 


what the



The mind

has no


Pen to paper

words are

written as


I am told



the truth

is hidden


to be








out to


Lynn is an aspiring writer/novelist.

Illuminated Reflections by Blanca Alicia Garza

Illuminated Reflections 

Another day gone by 

The Moon rises

upon the velvet sky 

Thoughts of you come 

and go like waves 

Making storms rise 

beneath my skin 

My blood flows like lava 

through my veins 

My heart races, my nerves 

thrill to your touch 

The warm gentle breeze 

caressing my hair 

As I hear your name gently 

whispered upon the wind

I was trying to write you a poem 

but I thought I saw your face 

in my old tattered notebook 

But it is was only the illuminated 

reflection of the Full Moon. 

It's early morning now and I'm 

still awake desiring your presence 

as my lonely heart weeps in silence.

(Initially published on Indiana Voice Journal)

Bio: Blanca Alicia Garza is from Las Vegas, Nevada. She is a nature and animal lover, and enjoys spending time writing. Some of her poems are published in the Poetry Anthology, "Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze", now available at Blanca's published work can be viewed at The Poet Community, Whispers, The Winamop Journal, Indiana Voice Journal, Tuck Magazine, Scarlet Leaf Review as well as Birdsong Anthology 2016, Vol 1.

Weathering by Yuan Changming


In the climate of my heart

You will evaporate into the blue

If I am too hot; or become frozen

If too cold; but you will always

Remain clear, soft, pure, ready

To flow gracefully, as long

As the temperature is mild enough

bio: Yuan Changming, nine-time Pushcart and one-time Best of Net nominee, published monographs on translation before moving out of China. With a Canadian PhD in English, Changming currently edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Yuan in Vancouver; credits include Best Canadian PoetryBestNewPoemsOnline, Threepenny Review and 1279 others across 38 countries. 

Untitled by Rachel Tucker

I wandered aimlessly. I had no direction and wanted none. I was done. There was no fight left in me. I had taken her from doctor to doctor looking for a different diagnosis, a different prognosis, anything that would keep her alive. Nothing worked. No one could save her. I buried her yesterday. I have nothing more to live for. She was my everything. The sun to my moon, the yin to my yang. We were all that ever mattered in my life. Now there’s not even a child to remind me of her. We lost our only child years many ago in infancy. There isn’t even pain now. There’s just a dull ache where she used to fill me up. A vast emptiness that no one will ever be able to fill. Finally, weary to the bone and feeling totally used up I stopped walking. I hadn’t realized that I’d walked so far. The tree is stark but the sun shining through it speaks to me somehow. I don’t quite understand what’s happening but I feel…something. I continue to gaze up at the sun coming through the tree and I realize that maybe, just maybe, I can go on. Like the tree with it’s long, bare branches, I can stand alone and feel something different. Not the things I felt when she was alive, but still something. It really is stunning. The tree and the sun. I realize that I feel an affinity for this tree and that I actually see beauty where I never thought I’d see beauty again. I stood and watched until the sun was so low in the sky that I was afraid that I might get totally lost. With a final backward look, I thanked the setting sun and this beautiful stark tree for the reminder that maybe, just maybe, there was something left for me after all.

About Me:

I am a 57 year old, single woman who has enjoyed writing on and off for the better part of my life. I have been actively pursuing this hobby for the past year, and have written many short stories and essays both fiction and non-fiction. I especially enjoy writing fiction "chapter books" and have written several. I also enjoy reading, photography and spending my time walking in forested parks where much of my inspiration comes from.

Monday, March 27, 2017

Sometimes I Wish by Julie Petersen

Sometimes I Wish

Sometimes I wish I had no eyes
So they wouldn’t see you not seeing me
Sometimes I wish my heart couldn’t break
So there were no pieces to pick up again and again
Sometimes I wish I could forget you
Just to remember the calm before the storm
But then after all this wishing, I think of…
How my eyes will never see life the same again without you
How my heart never beat any stronger since I met you
And how everything has changed forever because of loving you

© Julie Petersen November 22, 2016

Julie Petersen is a poet and amateur photographer. Her work has been published in Tuck MagazineIndiana Voice Journal, the Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze anthology, which can be purchased on Amazon, and will soon be published in the Dandelion in a Vase of Roses anthology. Julie is planning to release her first chap book of poetry in the near future. Her writer page can be found on Facebook.

Vapor Trail by JD DeHart

Vapor Trail

following the path
of what has been left behind
a brief memory
splash or flock of memories

there was a wooden
ship, the biggest toy imaginable,
so big it was not a toy,
but it was treated like one

the smell of smoke,
a confluence of ash trays

there was an old man
like a father, but not a father,
the memory of his death now
lost, an old lady who might
or might not have been sane

there was rain, an uncomfortable
time, digging a grave,
feet splashing in mud

that's where the vapor
becomes wisp and disappears
with nothing but a name
barely used anymore.

JD DeHart is a writer and teacher.  He blogs at

Sunday, March 26, 2017

Reawakening & Miracles by Daginne Aignend

Two little blackbirds
searching diligently
for fallen twigs
Determined to build
a cozy home
for their offspring
Marvel, the tomcat, rolls on his back
cherished by the mild April sun
Mom and I are sitting on the terrace,
drinking fresh made coffee
I love the soothing fragrance
of the lilacs and hyacinths
A natural aromatherapy
for the mood and nerves

A while ago, our family was struck down
when my mom was diagnosed
with this horrible fatal disease
The world looked harsh,
the days painted in somber, dark gray
Since that day, we decided
every new day was a little present

Mom and I are admiring the
fresh green color of the young sprouts
of the birch trees in our garden
as the postman arrives and hands mom a letter
'Complete remission'
the season of reawakening
and miracles

Saturday, March 25, 2017

Amidst the Cherry Blossoms by Colleen Keller Breuning

Amidst the Cherry Blossoms

As the sun sits high on its throne
pink rain falls in delicate petals
cherry blossoms scatter the joy
and the earth laughs in flowers.

The cool breeze blows lightly
    caressing our delicate white skin
           eliciting goosebumps and shivers
as we delight in the fruits of nature.

 Walking with you in the golden sunshine
                 hand in hand, hearts entwined
    oblivious to discord, we trip on gnarled roots
and down the rabbit hole we fall.

As night descends with blackened fears
        wrapping us with a cold shawl
             we look upward, pondering
the meaning of our existence.

But the distant light glows in radiant pulses          
       our salvation, our beacon of hope
             for when it is dark enough,
you can surely see the stars.

Come along with me, my love
      lift me up in light or dark,  
          dare to dream beneath the smiling moon
the unthinkable, the unimaginable….

…. do you dare?

Colleen Keller Breuning © 2017

Friday, March 24, 2017

Love's Sweet Reverie by Lynn Long

           Love's Sweet Reverie

You are a memory, lost within dream
Awakening my soul before time seen
Only in moonbeams I remember sweet
The love we felt on a warm summer night
The euphoria spent in Autumns light
As our bodies entwined becoming one
Igniting passion beneath celestial sun
Destined to meet in blissful reverie
Our souls sing in perfect harmony
Alas, where we begin... we must also end
For our love exists in dreams hidden
So eternally within loves abyss
I will meet you always to share a kiss

Lynn Long is an aspiring writer/novelist.

A Faint Trace of Light by Melissa R. Mendelson

A Faint Trace of Light

It wasn’t our first date. We actually had been dating for a few months now, but the dates were more of friendship than what he wanted. I knew that eventually his patience would run out, and tonight, it did. And his car ran out of gas, leaving us in a tight space, waiting on a tow truck, and it was here, where he made his move, not taking No for an answer. So, I left, now stranded in the cold woods that surrounded me.

I could hear him yelling for me to get back into the car, but I ignored him. Maybe, if he wasn’t so rough, I would change my mind. Maybe, if he wasn’t pushing me into the backseat, I would say that I was wrong. I knew that eventually we would do it, but not in a car, not like this. This was all wrong, and suddenly, his car sprung to life. And he floored it down the road, disappearing from sight. I’m sure his car would die again, and I hoped that he too would be left stranded in the woods. But still, where did that leave me?

It was getting colder now. I could see my breath rise and fall before my face. Why didn’t I bring my gloves? They said that winter was over with, but it was bullshit. It had to be about twenty degrees, and maybe, if I was lucky, I would see that tow truck on the road. And I would run to it for help. Hell, I would run to any car now for help. I just hope that it wouldn’t be some god forbid axe murderer, but if I didn’t get warm soon, I was going to freeze. And that scared me even more.

It was just out of the corner of my eye, where I spotted a small house, which was strange. I didn’t think that anyone lived in these woods. There were hikers often passing through here. There were bears and coyotes, which I should not think on right now. What about wolves? No, I
can’t think like that, but for someone to live here? Why would they live here, but as I got closer, I saw that the house was in disarray. The front door was hanging sideways, reminding me of those Wild West saloons, and the floor groaned underneath my weight, threatening to break. What if I fell through to the bottom? Would someone save me? Unfortunately, I knew the answer to that question, but thank God, for the fireplace. There was enough debris here, wood and newspaper that I was able to gather up, and I was grateful for the pack of matches I always had in my bag. My friends joked about it especially because I didn’t smoke, but hey, you never know when matches would come in handy. And tonight, they did.

The fire started quickly, killing the chill growing in my bones. Tomorrow, I would have to leave here and find civilization once again. At least, my parents thought that I was with him, so they shouldn’t worry. That is unless he calls my house, looking for me, and then that would cause a panic. But there was nothing that I could do about it. For right now, I was here, trapped but no longer cold, and I was even beginning to doze when a shadow nearby moved.

My body bolted upright. The hair on my arms and back of my neck snapped. My eyes darted around the small, confined space. The floor creaked as if someone had stepped upon it, but I did not move. I remained curled up by the fire, and my hands were now curling into fists. I wasn’t alone. This room seemed to have grown eyes, and my breath echoed against the broken walls. Someone was here, and they were close. And then a hand fell upon my shoulder, and I screamed, jumping to my feet and spinning around until I fell down. And that was when I saw her, a small ghost of a child, who looked more frightened than me.

A moment later, I heard a door slam shut. My mind raced rapidly. I could leave here, go back out into the cold and hope to find rescue. I could stay by the fire in hopes that the ghost would stay far from me. Instead, I slowly got to my feet and moved toward where I heard that door close. What was I doing, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was now standing outside that door, and I was reaching for the door handle when suddenly that child opened the door. And she gestured for me to come inside.

The bedroom was in ruins. Maybe, a fire had torn through this place. Something bad had happened here, but whatever it was happened a long time ago. And this little girl moved away from me and toward a burnt, broken window. She sat on the floor and stared at a charred rocking horse, which she then gently rocked back and forth. She kept her attention on it, but that was until I sat on the floor near the window. And when she looked at me, I didn’t see hate or anger. I saw sadness, and it broke my heart on how alone this little girl really was.
“Tell me a story,” she whispered to me as she played with her horse.
“What kind of story,” I asked. “Any kind,” and then she appeared by my side, curling up against my chest. “Just tell me a story,” she whispered, almost crying out those words. “Please,” she said.

“I will tell you the story that my mother once told me. Once upon a time, there was this shadow of a little girl. Nobody could see her as she went to school or rode the bus home. Nobody could see her as she stood against the walls at the school parties. All she wanted was to be seen, to be danced with, but she was ignored. The only ones that ever saw her were her family, who was showered in this most brilliant light, and she wanted to be seen in that light. But her mother told her that she had to find herself first. If she didn’t find who she really was, she would be stuck as a shadow, and this little girl tried and tried to discover herself. But she couldn’t see past her own darkness, and then one day, she saw a tiny bit of light coming from her chest. When she tried to pull it out, it disappeared, bringing tears to her eyes, but then it appeared again. This time, she gently placed her hand over it, and suddenly, she could hear her heart beat, a beat that was so foreign to her because it sounded like life, love, which she knew nothing about. But as she listened to this newfound beat, her darkness started to melt, and she started to glow. And this brilliant white light showered over her, and then everyone saw her. The world saw her for who she really was deep inside.”

The next morning, I awoke and found myself alone. The charred rocking horse was left near me. Sunlight shined in through the burnt, broken window. The floor creaked as I moved, and I almost missed it. On the floor written in the dirt were two words, two words that made me cry. “Thank You” she had written, and something inside told me that she was now gone.

Reflection of broken mind By Desiree Cady

Reflection of broken mind

Why is it that they call it dark 
These feelings that I feel?
Don't they know I need to tell
In order for my mind to heal?

I do not think this pain should be 
Thought as negative or wrong
Some people keep it locked up inside 
That doesn't mean that I am not as strong

For many years I let my pain 
Stay buried deep within
But I began to feel like I would burst
At the slightest prick of a pin

So now I let it out 
Wear my heart upon my sleeve
Hoping my words help others
Find strength and in themselves believe

I do not have it all figured out
Of that I must admit
I am still working on it day by day
Each one I get better if only just a bit

©2017 Desiree Cady 

Thursday, March 23, 2017

Neighbor by Jerry Durick


At his funeral, we
filled a whole pew.
“The neighbors,”
I heard someone say.
Family and other friends
made a modest crowd
in a church that size
at that hour, an hour
just a few weeks ago
he would have been out
working on his lawn
picking up this or that
raking, sweeping, making 
his yard, his world a bit
better than he found it.
We, neighbors knew him
that way, a nod, a wave
a joke about whatever
he or we were doing
sometimes a longer visit
little more, in that way
he was there making
our neighborhood, his
world better than 
when he found it.

Monday, March 13, 2017

Satin Red and Strawberry Daiquiri by Blanca Alicia Garza

Satin Red and Strawberry Daiquiri 

There is ink
upon his skin. 
A sweet poem wrapped 
in flesh and bones. 
Sin dressed in black,  
lips of strawberry daiquiri.
Sweet temptation that 
I would love to read
with my fingertips,
between every line,
between every word
until the last chapter. 
Learning the entire story 
that hides there
behind his beautiful 
deep blue eyes. 
To write the beginning 
of a new story among
satin red sheets.

Bio: Blanca Alicia Garza is from Las Vegas, Nevada. She is a nature and animal lover, and enjoys spending time writing. Some of her poems are published in the Poetry Anthology, "Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze", now available at Blanca's published work can be viewed at The Poet Community, Whispers, The Winamop Journal, Indiana Voice Journal, Tuck Magazine, Scarlet Leaf Review as well as Birdsong Anthology 2016, Vol 1.

Thoughts From The Saddle: A Cowboy's Musings by Barney Cissell Book Review

More Details and Ordering Instructions on Amazon

This is the first time I have experienced cowboy poetry. I have always loved western cinema and cowboy tales but have never read cowboy poetry until now. I have to say, after reading this book I am thoroughly enchanted by this genre. The poetry has an air of contemplation and brings forth the emotions of everyday life along the range. There are a couple of poems which stand out. One being A Cowboy's Heart which speaks to love and loss with an emphasis on healing. It is beautifully styled and explores the intricacies of the heart. Another is Dad's Ol' Boots which personally gripped at my heart, bringing back memories of my own father.

This book is filled with life and love and told with a contemplative voice that sets the stage for a wonderful calm and introspective read.

I highly recommend this book.

Review by:
Joanne Olivieri Editor
Stanzaic Stylings

Antennas of Absence by Sudeep Adhikari

Antennas of Absence

“The house shelters day-dreaming, the house protects the dreamer, the house allows one to dream in peace.” ― Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space

I look at the mosaic of corroded bricks,  
on the skin of an earthquake ridden house
in my neighborhood. Almost a Pollock's
 like painting of an overpowering
absence. I can't unfeel it.

What have you in your innermost depths?
What is the grammar of your mute,
 which speaks the language of a melting day?
What is the color of infinity, trapped inside
the cuboids of your incomplete death?

Questions translate to answers in themselves,  
and absence is not always a void.
Right on its thin concrete slab, a bird sits
and watches over an anxious city,
sending radio-waves to satellites of unnamable aches. 

Bio: Sudeep Adhikari is a structural engineer/Lecturer  from Kathmandu, Nepal.   His recent publications were with   Red Fez , Kyoto  , Your One Phone Call, Jawline Review, Anti-Heroin Chic, Yellow Mama, Fauna Quarterly, Beatnik Cowboys, After The Pause, Poetry Pacific, Silver Birch Press and  Vox Poetica. 

Daddy's little girl by Desiree Cady

Daddy's little girl

He was filled with nervous energy
As he took her hand in his
Being in the church on this day
Was an event he'd never miss 

He took his place beside her
As she wore that white dress
His heart filled with pride
There was something he needed to address

He said, " You are the most beautiful girl
That  I have ever known
I enjoyed every moment with you 
Watched you over the years as you've grown"

"I am about to watch you leave me
Take the next step in your life
I am about to give you to this man
You are about to be his wife"

He turned to the groom
With a protective gleam in his eye
Said, "This is Daddy's little girl,
Don't you ever make her cry"

"Consider this a warning
This girl is my everything
If you ever cause her harm
Hell on you I promise I will bring"

"Treat her like a princess
Love her like a queen
Show her what the word love is
Show her what it means"

To her he turned
As a tear fell from his eye,
"You'll always be daddy's girl
Even though you're married to this guy"

"Always remember, don't ever forget
You will always have my heart
There will never be anything I won't do
No distance that will keep us apart"

"If you ever need me
Just you let me know
There is no limit for what I'll do for you 
No distance I won't go"

©2017 Desiree Cady

I am a 33 year old mother of two beautiful girls who have been my saving grace. After a brutal attack a few years ago, I have been plagued by PTSD. After the attack and a few suicide attempts, I vowed to tell my story and help inspire others to get help and to know that they are not alone. 
I am currently wrapping up two manuscripts for publication and am set to be published in an upcoming anthology that will come out mid - November.

You can find more of my work at 

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Dearest Deborah by Michael Brownstein

Sometimes behind a curtain,
An antique closet with a hundred pieces of gold
Or a young man carving Jatoba wood into frames
Or monarch butterflies, milkweed, and healthy hair.   
Behind the door, a simplicity of sound
And in this room, the sweet sweat of huckleberry juice.
I cannot choose enough of any of these.
I can choose you, like a forest of rain.
Never is it enough to seek a clean place
Freshly imprinted with the small of your foot,
Decorated with the easy touch of your fingerprints,
And all of the breath in my world
Has this need to be knotted with
All of the breath in yours.
Will crab grass grow stronger after the storm?
This part is not in me. I can
Build a porch, change a fitting,
Lay out a pallet of down. This is in me.
I can quilt a blanket,
Tune the strings of my kora,
Find a place to be with you forever
And later, when you come upon me late,
It will not matter what came before.
I am in luck because of you.

Only by Allison Grayhurst

Across the clouds
like razor blades,
the thin path I planned
to wander, expanded, and
I moved into territories
of self-loathing. I could not
keep hold of the grail or of purity
of thought and deed.
I can only remain with the ghost
on my shoulder
and the demon polluting my love.
I can pace my inner room
and never find a solution.
I will always be chained
to the soil, imagining
the bright orb of heaven.

BIO: Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. Three of her poems have been nominated for Sundress Publications “Best of the Net” 2015, and she has over 950 poems published in more than 400 international journals and anthologies. Her book Somewhere Falling was published by Beach Holme Publishers, a Porcepic Book, in Vancouver in 1995. Since then she has published twelve other books of poetry and seven collections with Edge Unlimited Publishing. Prior to the publication of Somewhere Falling she had a poetry book published, Common Dream, and four chapbooks published by The Plowman. Her poetry chapbook The River is Blind was published by Ottawa publisher above/ground press December 2012. In 2014 her chapbook Surrogate Dharma was published by Kind of a Hurricane Press, Barometric Pressures Author Series. In 2015, her book No Raft – No Ocean was published by Scars Publications. More recently, her book Make the Wind was published in 2016 by Scars Publications. As well, her book Trial and Witness – selected poems, was published in 2016 by Creative Talents Unleashed (CTU Publishing Group). She is a vegan. She lives in Toronto with her family. She also sculpts, working with clay;

When By Desiree Cady

By Desiree Cady

I miss our love 
When it was fresh and new
When there was so much passion
In everything that we'd do

When each and every touch 
Came as a pleasant surprise 
When we would get lost in each other
Completely mesmerized

When there was not a single doubt
That you liked what you saw
When the desire in your eyes
Showed a love that was raw

When each and every day
Wasn't more of the same
When living this life
Didn't seem so mundane

When a single thought of you 
Put a smile upon my face
Before all of the magic
Disappeared without a trace

When I knew just what to do
To get us back on track
To rekindle the flame
To get that fiery spark back

When I didn't have to question
If your love for me was true
When I could see all your love 
In everything that you'd do

When I was sure of my place
Inside of your heart
When I knew where I fit in
When I possessed every part

When I knew that I was all that you wanted
Everything you'd ever need
When being in my life
Didn't just seem like another deed

When you told me you loved me
But that wasn't a strong enough word
When actions spoke louder
When what you felt I clearly heard

When love wasn't just  word
But expressed with every action
When our love seemed more
Than just  fatal attraction

©2017 Desiree Cady All Rights Reserved

I am a 33 year old mother of two beautiful girls who have been my saving grace. After a brutal attack a few years ago, I have been plagued by PTSD. After the attack and a few suicide attempts, I vowed to tell my story and help inspire others to get help and to know that they are not alone. 
I am currently wrapping up two manuscripts for publication and am set to be published in an upcoming anthology that will come out mid - November.

You can find more of my work at 

Sunday, March 5, 2017

My Voice by Blanca Garza

My Voice 

My world teeters 
but I will not fall

I'm standing here
tall and proud 
No matter what 
life throws at me 

I'm making my own path 
with the stones 
that I stumble on

Will not follow the crowd 

My dreams could be
scattered by the wind 
like pieces of a dandelion 

But if I can touch a heart 
with my words, if I can 
make someone think 
twice before they act,
then my work wasn't in vain.

Although I cannot see
the rest of the way,
I keep going, always forward,
stepping strongly, raising dust.

Leaving my mark along the path 
Always with my head up
never looking down 
Getting up if I fall.

Sowing kindness and love 
for if someday I have 
to take a step back

I'll never give up 
Holding my dream tight, 
It won't matter if I 
make my hands bleed

My writing is my voice 
and it will remain 
when I'm gone.

Bio: Blanca Alicia Garza is from Las Vegas, Nevada. She is a nature and animal lover, and enjoys spending time writing. Some of her poems are published in the Poetry Anthology, "Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze", now available at Blanca's published work can be viewed at The Poet Community, Whispers, The Winamop Journal, Indiana Voice Journal, Tuck Magazine, Scarlet Leaf Review as well as Birdsong Anthology 2016, Vol 1.

A Good Day by Jerry Durick

  A Good Day

I can picture him there
waiting in the wings
ready, always ready
to step center stage

His grace and his wit
worthy of attention
worthy of applause
and standing ovations

two, three curtain calls
reviewers hurrying off
framing his performance
comparing him well to

even the best of them
the smiling winners
who got to say their say
who got to sing their song

I picture him there, quietly
adjusting his appearance
without a mirror, all he has 
is his imagination and his

ability to picture himself
waiting in the wings
imagining himself, ready
to step center stage.

Fragments of Yesterday’s Past by Melissa R. Mendelson Book Review

Fragments of Yesterdays Past by Melissa R Mendelson

Information and Ordering:  Amazon

Fragments of Yesterday’s Past by Melissa R. Mendelson is an introspective journey exploring memories from days past.  It speaks to fear, anxiety and the negativity our own thoughts can bring to our lives.

Melissa is a poet at heart with a storytelling style that I have always enjoyed.  Her works speak the truth from the heart and soul.  This particular book will have you, as the reader delving into your own past and becoming aware of feelings you have never expressed.  It will have you at times shedding a tear and other times becoming inspired.

The poem Myself is an introspective look into a life of wrong choices who as a shy girl just wanted to accomplish her dreams.

The poem Ivory Petal with a line that stood out for me as no other throughout the entire book is “Love is the dead rose in a cloudy vase.”  That one line encapsulates in my opinion the essence of the entire book.  Dark? Yes but in an inspiring way.

Solace is a poem I personally can relate to and I think each and every one of us at some point in time has experienced the feeling in this poem.  We have all been invisible and taken for granted.  This poem so eloquently delves into the feelings and emotions of being invisible in a world where people tend to treat others without empathy.

The poem Fragments is a poignant reflection of what once was and who I am now.  It will have you questioning your past and where that past has taken you.  It is a powerful and reflective write.

Another Sad Goodbye for my Aunt Sadie is a must read.  It so effectively expresses the complicated feelings of grief which we all experience in our lives.  It took me back in time to my own feelings of grief and unrelenting sadness.  It is a read that will help you understand your own feelings.

This book will help you deal with your own past through a journey of complex emotions and feelings giving you inspiration through a poignant and powerful expression of poetic excellence.

Review by Joanne Olivieri
Stanzaic Stylings

The Cellaring by Ken Allan Dronsfield Book Review

The Cellaring: Poems from a Darkling Side of the Shadowed Mind Paperback by Ken Allan Dronsfield

Information and Ordering  Amazon

The Cellaring by Ken Allan Dronsfield will keep you captivated by fear, excitement, gripping darkness and wit.  After each poem, I found myself saying WOW!

Ken is the master of imagery.  He, Sylvia Plath and Edgar Allen Poe altogether would have had their own poetry empire.  What I enjoy most about his poetry is the way the endings will surprise you, entertain you and having you sit up and take notice.

Ken also has a voice which allows for effortless ebb and flow with traditional style as in the poems Time Not Sleeping, Hounds Delight and many more.  It is rare to find a poet who can write this type of verse and make it work.  I truly enjoy this type of writing.  If you like Poe, you are going to love Time Not Sleeping.

Pink Flower (A Requiem For Death) is a beautifully sculpted piece sharing an eloquent message.  So many of the poems, if not all have creatively styled and subtle messages within the body of the piece.

The poem Down in the Cellar Behind The Axe I think is one of my favorite poems in this book.  There is a story within a poem that will grip your senses and with an ending that just takes you by surprise leaving you in chills.   Nocturnal Creeper is another such poem that tells a story with an ending that took me completely by surprise.  I loved these two poems.

I think I Died Today is the perfect example of Ken’s writing style. A story within a poem with the ending “I think I died today, I just don't know why” which leaves the reader with a question mark permeating their mind.

Another favorite is Diabolical Nature.  What is it about? It’s about the diabolical side of nature and a spider, mosquito and cricket. That is all I will say but you have to experience this poem.

Blissfully Waiting For Lithium’s Last Kiss – A superb write!!!

And from the poem The Deeper Wood, The style and imagery is second to none.

Dance by the fire, whilst absorbing warm desire within the fistula of life, a steamy purge of strife moving with a gallop through the life of a trollop cast spells in the dark, to a stars reddish quark. I am whom you think, wasting away in the stink; listening to "Lunatic Fringe", on tape in the parlor readying the knife, I'll dissect your wretched life within a dilapidated cottage of the deeper wood.

All of the poems in The Cellaring written by Ken Dronsfield tell stories within poems. Ken has the uncanny ability to incorporate imagery and metaphor in a unique and entertaining manner which envelops the reader within another realm. 

When I first began reading the book I envisioned myself reading the entire book over a few days.  However, I picked up the book and literally could not put it down.  Poets like Ken are masters at their craft and this book exemplifies the mastery of imagery and poetic expression.

Review by Joanne Olivieri
Stanzaic Stylings