Readings Schedule for 'Disabled Monsters' by John C. Mannone: October
"Southern Festival of Books," Nashville,TN
Published by Linnet's Wings Press ...
A Poetry Chapbook and a Linnet's Wings Press Publication launches on the 18th of October in Morpeth in Northumberland. Below is a excerpt from a review given by John Stocks of ‘Bewildering Stories’
'Oonah writes poetry that trips the reader's consciousness from the mundane to the magical.She has a shamanic ability to escape the nutshell of every day experience and describe an infinite, timeless space-whether capturing the, 'dissonance within a crowd' in 'South Wales Echo' or the rapture of listening to jazz in Minneapolis.
John Stocks (Bewildering Stories)
'In the middle of life's pathway
There is no erasing or ignoring
the empress and queen of Nothingness.
By her our end is woven,
as she stirs fate in her cup of dreams
and the potion: she never forgets!'
Cantos de Vida y Esperanza (1905)
Essay and Translations:Stephen Zelnick
Spanish New World Poetry
'Somewhere in his great chronicle of the poor, The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck has his character Tom Joad say in a moment of despair, 'We take a beatin' all the time.' Ma Joad tells him: ‘Why, Tom, we're the people that live. They ain't gonna wipe us out. Why, we're the people - we go on. Don' you fret none’.'
Creative Non Fiction
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Dedicated to our poets who give artistic expression to the nuances of our multicoloured human condition
Fall Poetry Chapbook 2016 Preview Available Here. For link sharing please share from the Table of Contents
The Trial of Franz Kafka by Alex Braverman
'Ominous skies, sometimes fiery red or darkly threatening, foreboding doom.
Our imagination holds sway over reality in these disturbing cityscapes of Kafka’s Prague. Humanity is long gone, only the cities remain in Braverman’s post apocalyptic vision.'
Lois Greenfield--is an American photographer best known for her unique approach to photographing the human form in motion.
Sometimes on a ride, when breath comes harsh
And the body burns though cold rain stings
A poem comes - the words not mine
They come from those who made with stone
The farms that gift each line a name
And later if the fire dies down
And breathing softens, the rain just mist
Still, now in a whisper (Hyndshaw)
The song of of names (Spoutscross)
Is sung from the stone (Summerside)
And carried by the wind (Winterhill)
From: 'There's Magic in the Pictures' Fall 2016