A Stunning poem about the art-form of poetry by Wuji.
Black coffee-colored morning
glory…listening to music.
I ponder the singular, the slight of hand, the parlor trick;
the impact of music on my morning mind.
Yet it is well past noon.
cloaked in a beat up nightgown,
and not much else,
to get my butt into gear again.
words hang like little
thought bubbles above my head
but if i try to catch them
they rupture instead.
The crisis of a blank page
staring back at me,
on a whim and dare.
I’m like a black-jack dealer
dealing out emotions instead of cards.
The slight in hand, poetry involves
in invoking an image or a mood
to entice the reader.
I try to take you along for the ride
in the spin-cycle of my dirty mind.
Some poems fall flat. Others, i can revive
with a bit of CPR if only I tried.
To breathe life into ?
Poetry much like reason,
escapes me momentarily.
I sometimes find,
I say an awful lot about
nothing at all.
A friend of mine from Good Reads is publishing her very first book this summer.
I think if you click on the link, the blog for the book speaks for itself here is a link: http://theapocalypsefiles.blogspot.com/p/the-book.html
Check it out to see if you maybe interested. If you are please sign up to follow her blog. Thanks, guys.
I have had 6 reviews so far as an Author on Amazon.com. 4 of the 6 were high praise. But 2 of the 6 were from the same person making very negative statements on my work, just one in particular, My “Memoirs recalled Madness: a personal account of living with bipolar disorder.” (2013) by Emily Sturgill. This young lady wrote basically that even though she bought my paperback she deemed it unworthy of reading due to grammar errors.
At the time, I was highly offended. But it was also close to the time, when I was becoming hypo-manic in May. I made harsh statements due to being so taken off-guard and did not respond in a professional way. Now there is a second woman leaving negative statements as comments, based on my over-reaction in trying to defend my work.
So I choose to simply re-edit it and re-release it. Then I attempted to apologize to both women.
You, know you cannot please everyone all of the time. I feel lucky to have positive reviews at all. And I have also said even if you have nothing nice to say, that perhaps it would make me a better writer for that. I have never discouraged negative reviews-I think I try to be receptive to any feedback of all kinds.
I don’t know. I still feel shaken up about the whole thing. I still have trouble understanding how someone would pay so much for a paperback then refused to read it due to grammar errors. Like for me, if she had actually read it-which she claims she did not-and judged it poorly on the basis on how I said things or content-what I was writing about THEN wrote a bad review-well then ok BRING IT ON. But to admit you never finished reading it and then review that the whole thing must suck due to errors you found in the first ten pages? Huh? The book is 88 pages long. I know I am more touchy about it, for a few reasons. First it’s based on my real-life story events. As well and as personal as I could tell them. Second, that is not my typical type of writing or genre.I mostly wrote just poems and prose. There’s a reason for that. I do not have the attention span some other Authors do to develop a plot and to really stick with it. Develop characters not to mention a solid beginning, middle and end.
Still, in my defense, I have been told many times that I write well. The responses between the two other woman towards me were just plain ugly.I felt like I was being-cyber-bullied!!! At the same time, I feel they have a right to their opinion. My loving husband disagrees. He reported their comments as abuse to Amazon. He cited them or at least the first person to be making personal attacks. I’m not sure how that works. They did not use obscenities or anything like that they were just both so very mean. My mistake, was ever commenting on the review in the first place-it added fuel to the fire. Now I am trying to put out wild fires. I realize as an Author, or Artist or Poet-you are putting yourself out there. People may not like your work, in fact they may even hate it. But sometimes, it is hard to separate who you are as a person from the work that you do. In spite of all the really wonderful reviews, the bad and ugly reviews stick out like a sore thumb. And that is MY PROBLEM-not theirs. I need a thicker skin.
If any other self-published authors out there have advice on this? Please comment on my blog. I have no idea what I am doing wrong. Obviously, I did not run a spell-check and grammar-check before publishing my memoirs. That’s my bad judgement there. I do not really use the spell-check feature when writing poetry or prose, because it’s different. When writing poems you may not want a capital letter at the beginning of each and every line. It annoys me.If there is a obvious spelling error I do fix that.
Am i really getting my panties all twisted into a bunch over what 2 woman said on the internet?? Does that make me the worlds worst, writer, author, artist and poet? Anybody out there have objective advice on taking criticism and handling it well? I would love to hear from you? Please, Please, please…any of my readers feel free to comment on the post. I’m a bit lost. However, I am still working on a new book. I am not going to stop writing over this or anything-even if folks hate it. I’m going to suck it up and keep writing no matter what. Thanks, Emily
Take this moment here
as a gift. You are no-where else.
The past dissolves into the puddle of the present,
the future is too far away to grasp,
so take a deep breathe,
and then ask,
what do I really want to be doing,
in this moment,
the gift is but a single moment
and all that you can do
or dream to do
to fill up that void
that empty spot,
as the click-clock
of the tick-tock
as the clock hand changes minute by minute
yet turning slow
I ask you now what, where, who
do you want?
What do you want to do in the right now
frame of your mind?
What happens next is up to you.
It is a gift.
Searching among a sea of Secrets.
Looking for answers buried deep
inside my core
So much slips by
my subconscious eye.
Somedays I do not know
where I begin and where my illness,
Stability is the ultimate goal.
To mend what is broken
To become whole.
Yet the parts I try
to deny linger and remain
a constant refrain in the chorus
which settles for
background music of a sort,
the melody of manic-depression.
So much regression, so much tug & back
then forth-some days I have clarity
and others I wish I did not.
The stuff I block out
The mysteries of that which makes me-
Knowingly, I must struggle
to accept all the parts of my self
even the sick bits and pieces-
until I am able to embrace it all
to stake a claim-
a subdivision between this mood
or the next.
Trying my best, not only
to recover but to re-discover
the parts I try best to never see.
The big, the bad, the ugly
even the beautiful
Sitting silent among the serene,
I find my place in earth-bound stars.
My feet grow roots as my arms become branches.
This is a place of calm.
quietness surrounds, as i sit in the stillness.
Afternoon fills me with a subtle breeze,
as amazement settles in-that yes, there
can be days like this
of quiet retrospection.
Away from the rush, bustle and buzz about.
Taking time to reflect from
This calm place reflecting among
a feeling of joy and satisfaction.
For once there is no where else,
that I long to be,
except sitting here quietly,
my mind wandering
loose and free.
This calm place.
gives me strength.
The roar of the Lion Fan
pressed by our bed
we sit here divided by
a mutual wall of technology.
Each attending to his/her gadgets
in comfortable silence,
as the fan continues to roar like a Lion
trapped in its den.
Sometimes even when we are together
we need the spaces apart to each do
our own thing.
Your watching a movie most likely in Japanese,
as I write senseless verse onto my blog.
Hoping that my slightly worn, tattered feelings
appeal to the masses,
appeal to the other poets out there
trapped by a mouse and keyboard
with only their wits and words
left to linger
onto a type-written page, paragraph or sentence.
A modern hieroglyphic,
for a Modern Age.
All worn out
hot and sweaty
summer lingers on my skin,
damp, tired awaiting twilight’s gleaming.
All worn out
long day jam-packed
with emotions, up and down…
first one thing right after another.
Sometimes, the feelings are so
overwhelming and sticky
they cling to the outside of my shirt
they ride like a heart
pinned to my sleeve.
This summer weather is sleepy/time.
great for naps and games of chance.
searching seamlessly for the right words
to describe the inner workings of my soul.
a crayon drawing
just like a childs is somewhere deep
buried beneath me
lying inside a mask of creativity.
there are some things i have
no words for-only feelings-which ride
like the sea
inside the soul
Originally, I was hosting an Artist Talk set for tomorrow June 25, 2013 from 6:00 pm- 8:00pm, at The Art Experience in Pontiac Mi. I was asked to speak about my experiences as an Artist, an Art Therapist and also someone who is in recovery from Mental Illness. (I have bipolar 1 disorder.)
Unfortunately, we could not get enough persons registered in advance. Sadly I only had two guests registered-they require a min of 5 persons.
They are allowing me to reschedule the event. I will have new flyers soon. The new date for the event is Thursday August 1, 2013 from 7:00 pm- 9:00pm. They would prefer persons registering at least one week in advance at their website: http://www.theartexperience.org/
The website has not been updated to reflect the changes just yet it may take a few days. The ticket cost is still the same $20 per guest, but this includes my personal presentation on Recovery through Art-making, a brief Q &A period, an Art Demo and finally guests will be invited to create their own artworks-supplies included.
I hope I can increase turn-out somehow. I really wish to be able to let people know, although living with mental illness is challenging there is much hope along the way and you are much less alone than you think.