Carolyn Howard-Johnson is the author of the multi award-winning series of HowToDoItFrugally books for writers, including USA Book News’ winner for The Frugal Book Promoter (now in its third edition). An instructor for UCLA Extension’s renowned Writers Program for nearly a decade, she believes in entering (and winning!) contests and anthologies as an excellent way to separate our writing from the hundreds of thousands of books that get published each year. Two of her awards are “Woman of the Year in Arts and Entertainment” (given by members of the California Legislature) and “Women Who Make Life Happen” (given by the Pasadena Weekly newspaper). She is also an award-winning poet and novelist who shared what she’s learned.
I can see how you might be exhausted with two books released in a month, but I am hoping you’ll share a little about the second one because it’s brand new to me. …
because there are less universes than clouds less states to inhabit than to be dissipated you have never been in love with first encounters mainly that they did only mean first encounters the thrill of that somehow swirling what had become of your heart before you realize are you willing to descend in the evening I will make you special
“I’m leaving for the day,” Robert shouted into the depths
of the big hollowed out tree.
Robert and his
wife were doing very well for themselves. These were hard times for squirrels.
Some squirrels were sharing a tree with two to three other families. But not
Robert and Vanessa. No, it was just the two of them in a big redwood near a
large park. That’s right; they were doing so well; they were living park side.
“Don’t
forget to pick up an extra acorn! Donny and Faye are coming for dinner!”
Vanessa shouted back at her husband. So, with that, Robert was off to work.
Vanessa’s heart always sank a little after she heard her husband scurry down the large redwood. She no longer had a job, and their babies were full grown and long gone.…
Even if we wake before dawn, we nevertheless inhabit the dark, still feel that need to light only a sole lamp, aware of how much we’re yet in that other world of sleep which is meant to make this one right. Those who have been up all night have more to say than we who recently rolled the stone from the mouth of our bed, but many share rooms with faces of childhood friends smiling in fields behind new houses, breaking through for those last minutes before the rays of yesterday are replaced by photons from this newest return, in the moments before darkness ceases to be the vacuum pulling us toward the heavens and just evaporates.
Someone You Love is Still Alive – Ephraim Scott Sommers
Even before I read the poems in Someone
You Love is Still Alive, I heard reports from shootings in schools and
malls, in nightclubs and the bases of armed forces. I remembered hearing
stories from survivors of natural disasters in reports on radio and television.
I remembered how buildings like the Twin Towers in New York City fell. I
remembered the death of Prince. I remembered the crumbling of the Roman
Catholic Church under the sexual abuse claims against priests and bishops. I
remembered the death of my dad, the death of my first marriage, the death of a
dream that would never be. They were just too painful to remember. I am not sure
how to make sense of these events whose presence has become a fixture in my
memory.…
