Sabne Raznik's "Following Hope" is Available on Ebay- Signed

Since it's publication in April of 2007, "Following Hope" has sold a little under 100 copies and received glowing reviews, including the following from Irish poet Brendan Kennelly:

"Thank you for that beautiful book- a harvest of really striking poems in a really elegant creation. The language is haunting; in fact the entire book reads like a haunted, lyrical, warm, violent, wounded love-poem in which togetherness and a chilly gulf of seperation vie with each other, and hurt is inseperable from loving passion. This leads to a situation where warm intimacy and icy distance assess as they embrace.

"Fingers" is one of the most powerful poems I've read for a long time. These same fingers claw this reader's mind and imagination long after the book has been laid aside. But this book doesn't really get laid aside; it walks the streets of Dublin with me. For this I thank you and may your special magic continue to flourish. "

While my website (http://www.sabneraznik.com/) contains links to its publisher Xlibris, Amazon, and Barnes and Noble as places to buy it, Barnes and Noble no longer keeps it in stock. Amazon's policies regarding print-on-demand books, as adopted last year, has meant that while it continues to be available through them, very few are now buying it there (a strange side-effect, indeed). So I am now selling SIGNED copies on Ebay. Come by and check it out.

The Legend of Leyla and Majnun: Its Importance in Eastern and Western Traditions

Reprinted from my AC page, as was the other essays I've posted here: http://http://www.associatedcontent.com/user/64959/sabne_raznik.html


One of the most common legends throughout the Middle East is "Leyla and Majnun". The title varies as names are translated, but these names mean: Leyla- Arabic for night, Majnun- Arabic for demon or mad man, specifically madly in love. Some of the details of the story can vary as well. There is some claim that the legends are based on a true story about a Bedouin poet named Qays ibn al-Mulawwah ibn Muzahim and a woman called Layla bint Mahdi ibn Sa'd, better known as Layla Al-Aamiriya. The legends are far-flung and both India and Saudi Arabia claim to have the tomb of the lovers.

The most popular version of the story was written by Nizami Ganjavi (1141-1209) in the Persian tongue. In this story Majnun falls in love with Leyla at first sight but is denied marrying her. This drives him to madness and poetry becomes his salvation. His father takes him to a temple to implore the god's help for his son, but instead Majnun prays that his love will continue to grow since he knows his life is worthless without it. Eventually, he retreats to the wilderness (which reminded me of the Celtic legend of "Mad Sweeney") to live with the animals and recite poetry he had written for Leyla. His health slowly declines and he exhausts all symbolic and psychological desire. When he last meets with Leyla, he no longer wishes to live, so driven mad by denied love as he is, and dies in her arms. She then dies beside him of grief. Some versions have her dying first and his own mad grief and love driving him finally to his death afterwards.

The legend has proved to be the influence of many great Western works of literature. During the Middle Ages, thanks to travelling troubadours and the crusades, there was much cross-pollination between these different cultures. The story of Leyla and Majnun was adapted and westernised for such classic tales as "Tristan and Isolde", "Aucassin et Nicolette", "La Fou d'Elsa", and perhaps most famously "Romeo and Juliette" among others. It was also the first work ever created in the Italian musical genre in the Muslim world. It was so adapted by Uzeyir Hajibeyov. Hajibeyov's version of the story is an enormously successful synthesis between East and West, and between European classical music and Oriental culture, it is said.

One of the most defining differences between the Western adaptions and the Eastern legends concerning Majnun and Leyla is the view of love according to culture. In the West, as can be seen by refering to the adaptations and Western literature which has been influenced by the Eastern legends, true love is nearly always a consummated love. Whether that love is approved by the powers that be or not, the love-struck and typically doomed couple will usually at some point have sexual relations. Only then is the love fully realised and sympathised with. In the Eastern legends, this love is almost never consummated. In fact, the legends' driving force is dependent on that fact. This is because in Oriental tradition, particularly the Islamic, true love for a person is a pure love, one that does not require sexual intimacy. Only if the love remains pure and free of physical relations can it be the kind of love that leads one to the complete love of the divine. In Leyla and Majnun, this is what characterises Majnun's insanity- that it is a manifestation of his having reached the ultimate state of divine love and hence, in a sense, has himself become divine. Therefore, the love-mad, non-revolutionary poet is, in Oriental tradition, a divine being.

The reasons for Leyla's family's rejection of Majnun also differs from that of the Western adaptations. In "Romeo and Juliette" that rejection is based on mutual emnity between the families. In "Tristan and Isolde" it is because of social standing and because Isolde is already betrothed. In Leyla and Majnun, he is rejected because of the poetic nature of his love. In Oriental culture love is a secret thing. Marriages are even today typically arranged by families for the advancement of the family or for whatever reason. It is not to be spoken of in public or advertised, because love, although desirable, is not a requirement for those marriages and the happiness attained within them (however much the Western world believes that love is vital for happiness, many other cultures do not believe that to be so, and when both parties to the marriage agree on this belief it can be true). So when Majnun publicises his love by spouting poetry outside the walls of Leyla's house and in the streets, this offends Leyla's family and breaks this code, if you will. Since he is considered divine because of the poetic intensity of his love, he is no longer considered as a human being in that cultural environment and, as such, is not eligible for the marriage. In other words, the union would have resulted in scandal. That is why, in the Iranian and Turkic traditions, Majnun is viewed as a pure and absolute martyr to divine love, although that interpretation is not included in all Eastern versions of the legend. In the context of this brief discussion of cultural differences and interpretations, it is interesting to note that the action of the legend is set during what is called "Jahiliyah"- meaning "ignorance"- and predates Islam by one hundred years.

The legends of Leyla and Majnun still ring true for audiences today, especially youths. Western youths long for the kind of love which would be so strong as to allow either or both partners to die for each other if necessary. In the fast-paced society that exists today, it is common for people to marry multiple times and still not experience the love that Western culture insists is vital to such a relationship, and so the modern connection to the Western adaptions is a sort of nostalgic longing for true love that never dies even in death. In the Orient, arranged marriages are still more or less the norm and the possiblility of forbidden love is a real one. Therefore, Leyla and Majnun's difficulties still have a very real and immediate currency there. Also, there is the unique phenomenon created by immigration. In Southern California alone, there are nearly one million Iranians and there are many, many more of Middle Eastern origin throughout the Western world. Coming as they are from a culture where love is a private matter into one that experienced the sexual liberation movement of the 1960s and 1970s and where sex is so common and open that it is even used to sell products as advertising, the effects can be devestating. There have even been cases of insanity due to the effort required to reconcile these totally different ways of thinking. For these ones, the legends of Leyla and Majnun have an altogether unique meaning of its own.

Truly, this classical Eastern legend deserves close scrutiny by those from both sides of the world, as it has had a profound effect on both.

My Life on MUTE

Take out my vocal cords,
Remove my voice box ,
and,

go ahead press mute.

I'll mime my way around all of their stupidity.

Turn down the volume,
no subtitles or captions,
I'll mouth the solutions to our problems with my lips,
and never a sound to interrupt,
but kiss-
and Silence will overwhelm.

Go ahead-press mute on me,
turn off my voice and expect me lame.
in the quiet you will find.
my voice is.
the
loudest.

Recent Stuff

Here is what I have written since August '08. Please, feel free to comment.

This was inspired by the movie "Jodhaa Akbar" and a dream I had:

"Freedom Walk"

Coloured glass ornaments
Darkened orange veil
Tripping bell anklets
One step to freedom

She's afraid to take it

Painted hands to wall
Painted feet touch floor

She moves


I'm having trouble titling this one. I tried "Dead" but it seemed to give away too much. I tried "Children" but that had the same problem, so current working title:

"Malawi: buried"

Ululation breaks parched
Throat, skin, earth

Sandstorm enwraps bony
Body, cuts

Words into the skin, blood
Inked names of

Sorrows, sorrows lost on
Faces blank

Numbed and rubbed free
Of identity


Did any of you watch last year's "Superstars of Dance" with Micheal Flatley as host? This poem was inspired by the solo South African dancer Mamela Nyamza and her performance as a dying swan or crane (link to youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AswRJtS9_eg&feature=related)- you may remember her:

"Woman"

Brown belief:
She sinks into dirt
Dirt sky she imagines
Ripping open-
Giving out under its withheld
Burden

Of hope. Soft, wet, white,
Crisp, soap-sparkle of
Snow she's never seen
Kissing the bare

Bare-boned earth
Glassed into ocean
Water still as steel-stone.
She feels like she

Is tearing open
With pain- like ripping apart
Garments- stepping free
Of herself
In a white tu-tu,

Dancing the horizon:
A crane's jerking
Movements- broken lips-
Across snowed-on ocean,

Dirt-covered folded origami
Bird in palm encased,
Encrusted jewel
Dug from earth-deep death,
Star of Africa.


This next one was a meditation on the events of my life over 2009:

"Memory Fractured"

Carcass of wingless
Black bird of prey,
Hanging,
Slit open,
Bleached white inside:
If you should find a seed within it,
Throw it down to us
To pick at,
Splinter,
Misunderstand and squander.
Aborted life-
Again.

This is a favorite subject of mine:

"The Bellydancer"

She picks at her bedlah
Checks her nails
Listens for the zaghareets
Which are her cue
Nervous, her heart beats with the drums
While she practices some of the
More difficult moves of her
Routine- just before
The curtain rises and the lights come on
She whispers:
"I dance for you, habibi"


One more that I wrote tonight while thinking of someone:

"Joy"
n. 1. sunshine in the heart 2. swaying hip shimis back to front, first the left then the right 3. cascading cresendo of beads, coins, and fabric created by bedlah while executing said move and which radiates outward 4. the state of being on your mind

It's been a dry season as you can see. I consider only one or two of these as half-way publishable. Please tell me what you think. :)

Old Fort Park

Old Fort Park
By Bobbi Rightmyer

The trees are naked, bare
standing tall and straight.
Leaves litter the ground
like a patch worn carpet
or old rag rug
covering the still green grass
with crumples of brown.
Birds are chirping
calling out a joyful tune,
singing with happiness at the glorious day.
Squirrels are scampering
unafraid of the few lingering cars,
scavenging for food,
thick, bushy tails riding high in the air.
A car backfires on some not far street
and all is quiet as the world goes on pause,
but after a few still seconds the chorus begins,
and the wildlife sounds can be heard again.
Sunshine straining through thick, gray clouds,
warmth on my face from the hazy glare,
with a cool breeze dancing across my skin,
causing a gentle sway to the trees.
The shrubbery and hedges are still holding onto
leaves and fruit galore,
It’s that time of year again,
the rapidly approaching winter
when all life’s chores come in a fast succession,
preparing for the long, dark days
of winter yet to come.

A "New Modern" or "Regionally Modern" Poetry?

Irish and Appalachian Poets Grapple with Changes to Their Respective Cultures

Poetry Ireland Review has been among my favorite literary journals for some years now. In volume # 93, Rita Kelly penned an essay called "Eavan Boland: A Voice of Courage in Our Time". In it, and as a side point almost, she touched on the cultural changes that the Emerald Isle is currently undergoing. This bit of meditation resonated with me in a way Kelly likely did not intend. Why? Because my native Appalachia is also facing cultural changes.

Whereas Ireland's changes are more blatant as Kelly describes them, the urbanization of Appalachia is of a different sort- being more internal within the people themselves rather than literal. But the results are similar.

Ireland is now a major destination for refugees and immigrants from many nations. No longer is it merely a vacation stop for tourists or a place from which its people reluctantly flee. Since the 1970s it has slowly built up itself into a self-aware, fully functioning nation within the EU and since the 1990s in particular it has enjoyed a bit of an economic boom. (This is not a political essay. I am simply attempting to draw a more accurate picture of modern Ireland in the mind, versus the now out-dated one of popular imagination as portrayed in- for example- Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt.) There are any number of cultures coexisting there today and a true babble of languages are spoken. Particularly is this true on the east coast. The rural agricultural way of life is being forsaken for the urban industrial as the population increasingly moves into the cities.

On this shore, Appalachia is being similarly challenged by an urbanization of the mind. On one hand many long-standing truths remain. For instance, it is still a longed-for homeland from which many go in a sort of involuntary exile into decidedly Appalachian neighborhoods in such city centers as Cincinnati, Cleveland, Canton, Detroit, and Chicago. It is still a very economically oppressed area by national standards. For the most part, outsiders in Appalachia still tend to be migrant workers. (In recent years many of these workers have been Mexican or Latino and thus one occasionally hears Spanish spoken here or there.) These workers rarely stay. Appalachians have never really developed a sense of who they are in the greater throng of humanity and they prefer to be left alone to their ways and thinking. One often hears the saying "If you leave me alone, I'll leave you alone", which basically means one is free to live the way one wants, provided one extends that courtesy to others. These things have been more or less the same for generations.

On the other hand, however, there are great- albeit subtle- upheavals in the familiar order of things. To be Appalachian does not mean exactly the same as it did a generation ago. The system of roads is improving every year and this is opening up previously isolated areas of the mountains little by little. As a result, Appalachians travel in greater numbers and more often than ever before. The educational institutions are now, in some cases, rivaling the best in the country. There is greater exposure to the outside world due to television, radio, and especially the internet. At this point in time, second and even third generations are benefiting from these innovations. There is ongoing research into several theories regarding the origins of the Appalachian people and newly discovered facts are painting a very different picture than the country at large and popular media have supposed. Consequently, there is a growing awareness of a unique identity among them. All of these are positive changes, yes. But changes nonetheless. Many are losing interest in the hard working rural aesthetics that once defined the region in favor of a more mainstream technological lifestyle. (As a reminder: this is not a political essay.)

Subsequently both Ireland and Appalachia are currently undergoing a time of change, of a great shift in world views. This has quite naturally created a measure of mass anxiety not experienced before. There is instability and a weakening of old systems of belief as the cultures morph to fit entirely new sets of circumstances. These new environments challenge their native poets. The question for their respective regional poetries is: how to express one-selves when the old modes of expression- the old words (by which I mean the old poetic traditions and unfortunately perhaps even the old languages unique to each place)- no longer apply and/or are no longer sufficient?

Was this not the defining question of "Modern" poetry? (For the purposes of this essay, "Modern" poetry is defined as that work produced at the end of the "Romantic" period up until the eruption of World War II. In other words, from about the 1890s until about 1940.) During this time there was a similar upheaval in cultures, ways of thinking, and dismantling of long-established systems of belief on a world wide scale. It was a time of questioning, of attempts to rebalance intellectually and in every other way imaginable. This general mood affected the poetry being written as much as any other sphere of the human experience of the time. Uncertainty and experimentation is stamped across the work of every poet whose career spanned some or all of those years.

In some ways, Ireland and Appalachia experienced this shift of core values with the rest of the world. But in just as many ways they seem to have been couched against it. The forces that cushioned these areas from the worst of the quaking that so utterly and permanently changed the intellectual and cultural landscape of the rest of the world are unique to each place and are not important in this essay. What is clear is that these forces have finally eroded or been removed. In some very important ways, Ireland and Appalachia are playing catch-up.

Their native poets are beginning to grapple with the implications of this catch-up. They are being faced with the challenge of inventing new modes of expression that can be sufficient to their changed circumstances and cultures. In this sense, it could be that Ireland and Appalachia are just now entering in on a "Modern" phase. It is certain that experimentation must be undertaken. Very "Modernist" questions are now being asked of these poets. They must find their own unique ways, indigenous to each area, to answer these questions. A "New Modern" or "Regionally Modern" poetry? Perhaps.

Who will be brave enough to attempt to answer?

Arts Festival Poetry Contest

The Arts Council of Mercer County
Presents
Arts Festival Poetry Contest


Three Categories
1. Adult
2. High School Students
3. Middle School Students
(This includes ALL Home School Students)

Entrants may submit up to 4 poems

Any length is ok but the subject must be “Art”
Entry fees are:
$1.00 for one poem
$3.00 for four poems

DEADLINE FOR SUBMISSIONS
October 12th, 2009

Winner will receive 5 copies of a chapbook of their poetry up to 20 pages. Entrants will be able to read some of their work at The Writer’s Café booth at the festival.


Entries and fees should be sent to The Arts Council of Mercer County, 235 Ashley Camp Rd. Harrodsburg, KY. 40330. Any questions should be sent to Tony Sexton at contentedme@hotmail.com

Fall Images: A Poem

Fall Images: A Poem

Pumpkins and varicolored leaves, candles
and festivals in the country
Funnel cakes, dealers of faux designer goods:
watches, purses,
cut-rate tapes for an old player, eight track or cassette
made in an old farmer’s garage last night
Dunking booths, dances and carnival games:
Shoot the water gun! Pop the balloon!
Win a tee shirt in glitter and a NASCAR guy’s face.
Painted faces of Halloween, candy hunters for gum
and chocolate crèmes- dispose of the goods in plastic
baskets, or cups— if you don’t, those kids might show up
at a later time less convenient for you, doing something
they ought not to do. Football games on cooling nights
under the glare of the halogen lights, where students toss
pigskins on hills above as players do on the field to excite.

-Earl P. Dean 2009

September 24th Assignment

The assignment for the next Speaking Out Workshop on September 24th is to take a visual image from the collaborative poem in the post before this one and explore it as an individual poem or essay or any form of writing you choose. Or you can choose another visual image as your prompt. Come prepared next week to read your poems.

Also, the deadline for submissions for the next Speaking Out book is November 16th. Please be finalizing your work and email to Roni Gilpin.

Fall

The following poem was a collaborative effort from the workshop on September 17th. Everyone was asked to write down vivid images of what autumn feels like to them. We then read a few of our responses, which were weaved together into this poem. Enjoy!

Fall

Bright red maple leaves
Slowly slipping colors caressing the horizon
Clothed in royal purples and red
Candles and festivals in the country
First fire of the season in the fire place
Dainty spider webs glistening with dew

Allergies, dead gardens, produce lined up in jars
The leaves litter the ground in a cloak of copper pennies
And the softer sun kisses the geraniums on my front porch inviting one more blaze of blossoms

Piles of mysterious leaves pondering a past life on multiple trees
Coolness of the autumn sunset turns the forest into a growing fire
Win a t shirt in glitter and a Nascar guy’s face
Fallen leaves, blazing color, bare naked branches fingering a deep blue sky
Ooey gooey caramel apples in the early hint of twilight
The old farmers almanac weather predictions for the coming winter
In a time long ago when cedar shavings carried dreams on a gentle wind.
Athletic fields are alive once again

A strong fortress belying the thoughts of an autumn requiem

Book Launch

Congratulations to Tony Sexton and Earl P. Dean on your successful book launch/mixer yesterday at the Kentucky Fudge Company. Tony has just released his first book of poetry, "Scraps," and Earl has release a science fiction novella, "A Tailor Maiden's Secret."

Both of these books are available at Wasteland Press and Amazon.

Herschel McKinley - the MC (Photo by Bobbi Rightmyer)

Earl P. Dean (Photo by Cheryl Sexton)

Tony Sexton (Photo by Bobbi Rightmyer)

Earl P. Dean and Tony Sexton (Photo by Cheryl Sexton)

Reflections

REFLECTIONS

The mirrors turn in,
reflecting past sins, grievances,
showing hallow ghosts of shining hopes and dreams,
with no way to keep at bay the dark and sorted nightmares.
Does the Bogey man exist
like beings of daytime hours;
or is he like the man in the moon,
only showing when a cycle is full?
Creeping darkness under the bed,
or a slightly cracked closet door
scaring even dust bunnies away
like particles dancing in a sun beam.
The stars may sparkle to mimick a diamond
with all its Teflon facets,
and waves may ripple the water surface
like warbles upon the glass.
Hopes and dreams are shared
with those closest to our heart
wishing for a brighter way
to end this foolish slump.

New Speaking Out! Workshop

Speaking Out! Writing Workshop

Mercer County Senior High School

Thursdays at 6:30 pm
August 20th and 27th
September 17th and 24th
October 22nd and 29th
November 17th

For more information contact:
Roni Gilpin @ 859-319-3531
Betty Dean @ 859-583-6355

Book Release Party

Host: Nomadic Ink
Type: Party - Mixer
Date: Saturday, August 15, 2009
Time: 2:00pm - 5:00pm
Location: Kentucky Fudge Company
Main Street, Harrodsburg, Kentucky


The Community of Mercer County Writers - Nomadic Ink - is hosting a book release party to celebrate 2 books by Harrodsburg native authors. Earl Dean will be signing his new young adult book - A TAILOR MAIDEN'S SECRET - and Tony Sexton will be signing his new book of poetry - SCRAPS.

Everyone is encouraged to come out and support these wonderful authors. Books will be available for purchase.

Tony Sexton's SCRAPS

Congratulations, Tony Sexton, for the publication of your new book, SCRAPS. Tony is the leader of The Community of Mercer County Writers and has lead several writing workshops in the community.

Many writers have said they never knew when an idea or inspiration might hit them and I am no different. Often I find myself considering an idea with no means of jotting it down. Usually I have a pen but, more often than not, I don't have a notebook handy. The only solution, in these cases, is to use what ever I can find; a napkin, box top, grocery receipt or an envelope. The title of this first collection, Scraps, comes from this dilemma. I began writing in the fifth grade when is teacher, Miss Castle, gave me writing challenge using the word “compulsion”. Since then I has spent over 20 years writing, leading writing workshops, which are designed for all ages and experiences and trying to complete her assignment. I am a member of The Community of Mercer County Writers and president elect of The Kentucky State Poetry. You can find my writing in The Journal of Kentucky Studies, Jar and several magazines including Good Old Days. I live in Mercer County with my wonderful wife, Cheryl and their dog, Mercy.

SCRAPS is available from Amazon and Wasteland Press

An Evening with Normandi Ellis

The Advanced Writer Workshop - lead by Harrodsburg's own Tony Sexton - and The Community of Mercer County Writers will be hosting Normandi Ellis as our guest speaker on Tuesday, June 9, 2009 at 7pm at the Mercer County Public Library. It is very exciting to be hosting this wonderful Kentucky Writer.

Books by Normandi Ellis:


Dreams of Isis

Awakening Osiris

Feasts of Light

Fresh-fleshed Sisters

Sorrowful Mysteries and Other Stories






She is also the editor of the Berea College Magazine

The Mist of Time

(Photo by Lisa of Wearin' My Heart on My Sleeve


THE MIST OF TIME

Hugging the bark like a fine silk glove
The mist encircled the trees
Coating each branch with the careless moisture
Left over at the breaking of dawn

What beauty beholds the thirsty eyes
At this causal offering of nature's finest moment
Blurred and fuzzy like an old photograph
Whispering the essence of a time gone by

Why can't life be as simple as this
A beautiful second in a neverending world
Awash with memories and bathed in remembrances
Like the trees standing in the mist

Paranoia

PARANOIA

Storm clouds gather overhead
As early darkness descends
Bathing the world in an eerie glow
My paranoid emotions explode

Rustling branches seem to call my name
Causing shivers to run down my spine
Too scared to make a tiny move
My legs are frozen with fright

With every noise my imagination grows
Threatening to overtake me
No where to run, no where to go
Drowning in a sea of night

Crouching down beside the tree
My body bathed in sweat
I pray to God to make it through
Until the break of day

Eternity's Shadow

ETERNITY'S SHADOW

We stand together
Just we two
As twilight lengthens the horizon
We look so strange
Our elongated limbs
Shadowing the close cut lawn

But is it symbolic
Of our lives spent together
Our love does lengthen and grow
With each passing minute
Each passing day
Till eternity passes away

Book Signing

Here is our good friend, Earl Dean, at his first book signing for A TAILOR MAIDEN'S SECRET. Congratulations again, Earl!

Book Signing with Earl Dean

Congratulations Earl P. Dean on the publication of your first novel! Earl is a member of The Community of Mercer County Writers.



Mayfest 2009 Book Signing
Saturday, May 9th from noon - 4pm
Gratz Park in Lexington, Kentucky

Earl will be signing his new book, A TAILOR MAIDEN'S SECRET and you will be able to buy a copy of the book on Saturday, or you can order from Wasteland Press, Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

To learn more about the Mayfest events, click here.

A TAILOR MAIDEN'S SECRET

"Arliane Donestica attends mid-school on a planet called Pooda, a forbidding world of the future so far removed from Earth in space and time that the old world exists as a mythical origin for the poodan progenitors.

The Poodan Youth for Unity, sponsored by Pooda's Elders, are chasing Arliane through her snowbound city at the request of the Elders, pressuring her about unspoken activities that might tie her to rebellion similar to her mother's. Activist and wife as well, Arliane's mother had died in a protest by explosion.

Were the Elders behind it? Read of a biological mystery, political strife and forbidden action to discover the answer in A TAILOR MAIDEN’S SECRET."

Earl Patrick Dean is a computer programmer working in Kentucky. He holds a BA degree from Transylvania University and graduate certificates from The Institute of Children’s Literature, and has attended the Carnegie Center for Literacy and Learning workshops on Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror and Online Writing Workshop for Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror. He loves reading and collecting books, and writes mostly science fiction and fantasy stories.

Earl has published stories in SAY...WHAT’S THE COMBINATION?, MORNINGSTAR ANTHOLOGY and KENTUCKY BLUE.

The Long Shadows

(Photograph by Highlander)

THE LONG SHADOWS

The long shadows are settling across the meadow floor
Whispering the promises for the end of the day
Dodging and weaving over shrubbery and trees
As one last glance of vivid green grass is seen

What does the night hold when the shadows let go
And the darkness creeps upon the land
What undying pledge do the shadows now make
To get us through till the end

.

Better or Worse

I recently had a friend ask me a simple question: Is life getting better or worse as you get older? Interesting questions ... I guess I have a mixed answer for this question.

I think my life is better because I'm older and wiser - I may not know all the answers, but I'm better prepared for finding the answers than I was when I was younger. My children are grown and they are 3 beautiful, healthy girls, so I guess I didn’t screw them up too much. The older two are planning weddings and the youngest is preparing for a summer at the Governor’s School of the Arts, so I am extremely proud of all three. And I have the prospect of grandchildren to look forward to.

My relationship with my wonderful hubby is even better because we have more time for each other. Over the past 25 years, our lives have been intertwined with love, work and parenthood, so it is great to get back to the relationship we had in the beginning, focusing on ourselves as a couple.

I am also retired from a job I hated (RN) and I'm now able to write more than ever - this has been a huge improvement for me. Granted, we don’t have the kind of money we used to and we are on a very tight budget, but my mental health is better, so this is a huge plus for the entire family.

On the other hand, some things in my life are worse. I'm not as fit and healthy as I was in my 20s - health issues seem to creep in every day. The society we live in is much worse over the past 20 years and this have impacted negatively on many aspects of life.

For the past four years, I’ve been living under the foggy cover of grief and it has been extremely hard to pull my life back together. I am nowhere near being back to the emotional state I was in four years ago, but I can say I’m better than I was six months ago and that is a baby step in the right direction.

I can say that I love my life! I may not be as active as I once was, but I am now able to pursue my dream of writing and this makes me a happy camper. My children are self-sufficient and leading happy, productive lives and this makes me a happy camper. My hubby has stuck with me through thick and thin, sickness and health, richer and poorer, and he still loves me unconditionally, and this makes me a happy camper.

Just because our lives are continually changing, doesn’t always mean they are changing for the worse. Sometimes changes are for the best … it is change that makes the world go ‘round.

What is a Plot??

Having trouble figuring out the plot of your next story or book idea? Bestselling advice and young adult fiction author Holly Lisle offers advice to beginning and advance readers on her website: Holly Lisle.




You can also sign-up for her newsletter and other online courses. And if you haven't read her newest young adult book THE RUBY KEY, Book #1 of the new MOON AND SUN series, it worth checking out!

Upcoming Literary Events

Upcoming literary events at Hazard Community and Technical College:

--Evening with Poets is our annual poetry reading that celebrates the publication of Kudzu, our literary magazine. Our emcee, as always, will be Jim Webb. This year’s spotlight poet is Affrilachian poet Mitchell LH Douglas. This reading is at 6:30 pm on Thursday April 30th. Poet Laureate Gurney Norman will also be speaking.

--Our Spring Writers Conference is Friday, May 1st. It starts around 10:00 am and ends around 4:00 pm. This year we have three concurrent workshops:
1.)Fiction Writing with Gurney Norman
2.)Poetry Writing with Mitchell Douglas
3.)Horror Fiction Writing with CS Johnson

Both events are free
For more information call 1 800 246 5721, ext 73200.

The Meadow Soul

THE MEADOW SOUL

His eyes were watching - looking at everything in the tiny meadow. Silent whispers gently blow on the cool morning air as mist rose from the dew-kissed ground. Another beautiful day is dawning and the forest creatures are starting to stir, inching out of burrows and holes and brambles looking for an early morning meal.

"Good morning my pretties; another gorgeous day is upon you," whispered the old soul as he looked at his creations.

The pond water rippled with fish stirred waves and dragonfly kisses. Momma birds chirped merrily as they waited for Papa birds to bring the fat red worms to the masses in the nest.

A doe inched out from the forest with a trembly legged fawn close in step, crunching the fresh meadow grass. Rabbits were hopping with tentative hops and stopping to much on dainty pink clover blossoms. A small red fox with his bushy tail straight in the air, pauses to drink from the crystal clear pond.

"This is good," sighed the soul, deep in contemplation of the bounty of nature's beauty.

The sun begins to break the horizon, sending multi-colored sunbursts through the clouds and fog. For one brief moment the tiny meadow and pond are a kaleidoscope of dancing colors.

Then the mist seeps away and the fog begins to lift. The soul again looks on the peacefulness of the surroundings.

"This is good," he whispers one last time before ascending away with the fog.

POETRY SLAM

Thursday night, April 17th, Mercer County Senior High School hosted a Poetry/Prose Coffee House in honor of National Poetry Month and Kentucky Writer's Day. The 2nd annual "Poetry Slam" was a great stage for accomplished writers and budding poets.

The Poetry Slam was organized by Betty Dean and Roni Gilpin.


The first person to read was Mercer County's very own celebrity author, Charles Semones. Charles read 3 poems: "Lethargy," "Wildflowers" and "Caine's Landing."


Tony Sexton is the leader of the Mercer County Community of Writers - Nomadic Ink - and he also conducts writing workshops throughout the year. Tony read "The Shoeshine Man" and "For the Students."


Earl Dean read an excerpt from his upcoming novella, "A Tailor Maiden's Secret." Watch this blog for updates on the publication of this young adult novella.


Taylor Griggs, MCSH, read an original poem.


William Crawford, MCSH, recited "Annabel Lee" - by Edgar Allan Poe - and read two original poems: "Lifeless Living" and "Love and Roses."


Kesha Bauer, MCSH, read 2 original poems: "Finally You Go" and "Phase Me."


Morgan Strautz, MCSH, read several original poems including "My Life" and "Road Not Taken."


Marian Bauer - Bauer House in Harrodsburg - is a wonderful storyteller and she related the story of "The Raggedy Man."


Christine Rightmyer, MCSH, read an original poem "Symbol of Death."

WONDERFUL NEWS

I have such WONDERFUL NEWS !!! My sweet baby received her acceptance letter today from the Governor's School of the Arts !!!

HAPPY DANCE, HAPPY DANCE !!!

Out of over 1,600 applicants from Kentucky students, she was one of 200 to be accepted into the summer Creative Writing Program.

She will be leaving the day after my oldest daughter's wedding, June 21st and will spend 3 weeks at Transy.

To say her Daddy and I are proud is a total understatement. This is something our entire family has been praying about since just before Christmas. To finally have the acceptance letter in hand is pure excitement.

Poetry Slam

Mercer County Senior High will be celebrating National Poetry month with a Poetry Slam.

Poetry/Prose Coffee House in honor of National Poetry Month and Kentucky Writer's Day

Thursday, April 16th @ 7:00 in the MCSH cafeteria

The event is free and open to the public

An Evening With the Mountain Keepers

(Edited to add: this piece was published in the Lexington Herald-Leader on Monday, April 13, 2009)


After almost backing out due to anxiety (and all those of you with social anxiety know what I mean), my daughter and I attended UK's presentation of "An Evening With the Mountain Keepers." I had really been looking forward to this program, mainly, at first, because of Silas House, but after the program I left with an awareness and passion for the elimination of mountaintop removal.


(Photo by Vivian Stockman - is a picture of Kayford Mountain located 35 miles from Charleston, West Virginia, the State Capitol.)

This program was to bring awareness of the destruction - not only to mountains and property, but to personal lives and families - of coal retrival by mountaintop removal. Growing up in the Bluegrass region, I've read many books, essays and papers on the problems facing Appalachia, but I've always thought of it as a problem for others to worry about. I could not have been more wrong!

Erik Reece was the MC for the evening and he began by reading a brief passage from Lost Mountain, a book showing a year in the vanishing wilderness of radical strip mining the the devastation left in Appalachia. He highlighted ways engaged citizen writers have worked for decades to make disturbing environmental and social justice a forefront to the public eye.

Frank X Walker - founder and editor of Pluck! the Journal of Affrilachian Arts & Culture, a magazine whose mission is to continue extolling the Affrilachian aesthetic, “making the invisible visible” - read one of his poems, touching the true heart of Appalachia. Judy Sizemore read her original poem, "The Badlands of Kentucky" and George Ella Lyon (another favorite of mine) and Anne Shelby both read some of their original poetry.

(Photo from The Mountaintop Removal Road Show )

Dave Cooper brought us his Mountaintop Removal Road Show - a slide show highlighting the impacts of mountaintop removal on coalfield residents, communities and the environment, and features traditional Appalachian mountain music and shocking aerial photos of decapitated Appalachian mountains.

Public Outcry! - an anti-Mountaintop Removal acoustical artistic collaboration bringing together music, words and images to educate people about this extreme coal mining method - performed several songs.

(Photo by Herschel McKinley)

This group includes: Silas House, Jason Howard, Jessie Lynn Keltner, Kate Larken, George Ella Lyon and Anne Shelby. The name of there group was taken from a phrase by a congressional supporter of mountaintop removal, after killing a "Stream Killer Bill" for several years in a row. To paraphrase what this Congressman said, "This is not an important topic; there is no public outcry."

Something's Rising: Appalachians Fighting Mountaintop Removal is a wonderful new educational book by Silas House and Jason Howard, and they both read excerpts from the books, with Silas being the last speaker of the night.

(Photo by Herschel McKinley)

I bought this book before the program started, mainly because of Silas House, but after hearing these men speak, I was moved to tears. I read three chapters before nodding off to sleep last night.

There were several special moments of the night for me: meeting Silas House and Jason Howard (and having them sign my book), meeting Frank X Walker, Anne Shelby, and George Ella Lyon, and having Gurney Norman (KY's new Poet Laureate) sit right in front of me!

But the highlight of the night for me was a man I knew nothing about before last night. Larry Gibson is a West Virginia activist who has been fighting coal and mountaintop removal for the majority of his life.

(Photo by Herschel McKinley)

He has been featured on CNN, Nightline, and People Magazine and he travels all over the United States trying to educate people about the devastation coal removal brings to communities, lives, nature and wildlife. Keeper of the Mountains Foundation was created to help fund Larry's efforts to preserve and foster the values of mountain culture. I could have listened to this man talk all night, he was that powerful. I was moved to laughter and I was moved to tears, but most importantly I was moved to action.

Do you still think the "little people" don't have a voice concerning mountaintop removal? These folk are here to provide otherwise. Call your congressmen and women, call your legislators, call the governors of Appalachia, call President Obama. As a point of reference, since taking office in January 2009, the Obama administration has already launched a crackdown on mountaintop removal by moving to delay or block mining permits damaging Appalachian communities and ecosystems.

Too Wet To Plow, Too Windy To Pile Rocks

Too Wet To Plow, Too Windy To Pile Rocks
By Roni Gilpin


Warm sun through the window beckons us. “Outside, Outside.”
Across the field, brown grass wears a green glow.
Stiff bones creak, “It is time, it is time”.

March wind, incessant and unforgiving, disagrees.
It drones on through the distant trees
Like a torrent over rocks in the stream.

There is no quiet, no rest from the tempest, the dull unending roar.
As the last leaves of the burr oak
Are loosed in the current and sent like debris,

Natural detritus mingled with the neighbor’s garbage,
Fast food cartons and plastic bags
Catch in the trees and wave like pennants announcing a spring not yet come.

There is work to be done, but like the crows, tired of fighting the headwind,
We acquiesce, go inside, and pour over seed catalogues.

An Evening With the Mountain Keepers

The University of Kentucky Writing Program
Community Engagement Series
Proudly Presents



Thursday, April 9, 2009 from 6 - 10 pm
UK Student Center Grand Ballroom
Free and open to the public

The Evening celebrates the way that public writing and grassroots community action work together to ensure a healthy, participatory democracy. Learn about Appalachia's endangered culture and its uneasy relationship with coal, and experience how journalists, poets, speakers, artists, and musicians use creative activism to make their voices heard.

Take a look at the Beehive Collective's incredible new work of art The True Cost of Coal and talk with the artists who created it, see Jeff Chapman-Crane's breathtaking sculpture The Agony of Gaia, visit with our community partners about their unique coal-culture exhibits, browse art and culture displays, watch MTR visuals, listen to activist music from Public Outcry and others, and enjoy refreshments.

7-9—Program

MC Erik Reece begins the program with a brief reading from Lost Mountain and a discussion of the way that public writing and grassroots community action work together to safeguard the participatory democratic nation our Founders designed. He highlights the way in which engaged citizen-writers have worked for decades to make disturbing environmental and social justice issues visible to the public eye

Frank X Walker offers an introduction to Appalachia's endangered culture and performs his new poem—a reflection on a photograph of WV coal miners.

Judy Sizemore reads The Badlands of Kentucky

Dave Cooper gives a geographic and ecological overview of MTR

George Ella Lyon reads original poetry

Silas House and Jason Howard read from Something's Rising: Appalachians Fighting MTR

Public Outcry! plays original acoustic MTR music.. meet Silas House, Jason Howard, Jessie Lynn Keltner, Kate Larken, George Ella Lyon & Anne Shelby

Anne Shelby reads original poetry

Larry Gibson, the WV activist featured by CNN, Nightline, and People Magazine, shares his moving personal narratives on MTR and community

9p—Q&A and . . .

Audience Q&A discussion with presenters, talk with participants, peruse the art, culture, and information exhibits—and hear more MTR activist music.

The Inner Me

(Art by Tammy Vitale)

THE INNER ME

My inner woman has done got up and gone
She tripped and ran fast as she could
Not a word, a poem, or even a little song
She only did what she thought she should

My inner me is buried deep
Afraid to come out or even to see
She has so many ideas she would love to keep
But she's afraid of life and the collective we

My inner self is bruised and torn
Grief stricken and fragile, threatening to break
But it's time to move on and no more to mourn
Even if my actions feel like a fake

My inner drive must suck it up
Stop wallowing in pain, start enjoying my life
Quit dragging my ass through the layers of muck
Cut this pain away with the blade of my knife

My inner id is a beautiful thing
When I allow her a chance to breathe
She is filled with life, almost bursting to sing
I think she'll stick around if I only believe

Sisterhood of the Unraveling Pants

I hadn't intended to post this here because I have it on another blog, but after it was published in the Lexington Herald-Leader (3-17-2009), I couldn't resist.



Sisterhood of the Unraveling Pants

Why is it that sometimes I think my youngest daughter is raising me instead of the other way around? With a 10-year age difference between my oldest and youngest daughters, Christine has practically been an only child because her older sisters have been out of the house for so long.

Although the stereotypical "only child" has been portrayed as spoiled, pampered and selfish, I can vouch for the fact this is not true.

Case in point, "the ripped pants."

"Honey, do you have to wear those ripped pants?" I looked at my daughter, shaking my head.

"But I like these pants, Mom. They're comfortable." She proceeded to pack her backpack for school, ignoring my exasperated sighs and rolling eyes.

"The teachers are going to think you don't have any good pants to wear." I tried turning on my pleading voice.

"But I do have good pants, Mom; they're just not as comfortable." She walked into the bathroom to pull her long hair up into a ponytail.

"What will your friends say? They are going to make fun of you because you have a big hole in your pants."

"But I don't care what my friends say. If they make fun of me, then they weren't friends to begin with." She turned on the water and started brushing her teeth.

"What about the dress code? I don't want to be called to school to bring you a decent pair of pants." I was running out of objections, but I didn't want her wearing those pants to school.

"But the dress code says you can't have holes on the butt of your pants. They don't want us showing our underwear. It doesn't say anything about holes in the knees." She rinsed her mouth and headed for the front door.

"But honey, I just don't want you wearing those pants!" I knew my voice had gotten forceful, but I couldn't help it.

"Why Mom? Are you worried about me, or are you embarrassed for yourself?"

I stopped dead in my tracks and looked at my daughter with different eyes.

"Mom, these pants are comfortable. I'm not wearing them to make a statement. I'm not wearing them to upset my teachers. I'm not wearing them because of my friends. I'm not wearing them to go against the dress code. And I'm certainly not wearing them to make you mad. You're a great mother! You shouldn't worry so much about what other people think of you." With her speech complete, she kissed me on the cheek, threw her backpack over one shoulder and headed out the door to the bus stop.

I was dumbfounded. I suddenly realized I was more worried about what people thought of me. I was afraid her ripped pants would be a bad reflection on me. I was going against everything I had ever tried to teach her.

Out of the mouths of babes.


(Edited to add: this post appeared in the Lexington Herald-Leader on Tuesday, March 17, 2009)