Musings of a Nascent Poet
()
About this ebook
Myths and romance, Armageddon and the occult, teddy bears and fairy tales, anything can be fodder for an epic poem and Stephanie Barr proves that with this collection of poetry from her earliest days writing that is eclectic, quirky, evocative, brilliant but highly accessible while somehow holding to old-fashioned notions on poetry, making it sound as good as it looks. This is poetry made to be read aloud, all but sung.
The years seem eons, ages,
Since I traveled, young and free,
When the songs my harp would whisper
Would bring everyone to me.
Women young and soldiers aged
Came to hear my siren lyre,
Came to lose themselves in music,
Dulcet sounds of sweet desire.
So, if lyric language is your bag, if you still get transported with the poetry of Keats and Poe, but long for messages a little more here and now, this may be the poetry collection for you.
Stephanie Barr
Although Stephanie Barr is a slave to three children and a slew of cats, she actually leads a double life as a part time novelist and full time rocket scientist. People everywhere have learned to watch out for fear of becoming part of her stories. Beware! You might be next!
Read more from Stephanie Barr
Altered Page Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsTechnical Difficulties and Other Stories that Follow Saving Tessa Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde: The Classic Tale and an Anthology of Twists, Retellings, and Sequels Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsKing of Swords (and other prequel stories to Tarot Queen) Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Challenge Accepted Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Demon Spawn Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsInner Worlds Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsDangerous Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsFated Encounters Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Second Slavery and Other Stories from the World of Dracul Morsus Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsAnathema and Tidbit Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsCurse of the Jenri Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsLegacy Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsEasy Prey Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Conjuring Dreams or Learning to Write by Writing Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsPussycats Galore Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsDelicate Dangerous Queens Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
Related to Musings of a Nascent Poet
Related ebooks
A Warm Place to Self-destruct Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsElegies & Other Meditations Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsOde to Our Frailty Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsBlack Book of Poems II Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Cooling Time: An American Poetry Vigil Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsBehind The Wheel: A Trucker's Poetry Book Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsConjuring Dreams or Learning to Write by Writing Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSelf-Destructive Love Poems for the Sanely Challenged Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsIn Your Bedchamber Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsLife's A Bitch And Then You Die II Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsLove and Dandelions: A Life of Rhyme Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsMaster Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Forgotten Man and Other Poems Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Story of Vreene: The Andoc Prime Saga Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsPainting Thunder: Poems By Robert Judge Woerheide Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsPoetry and Reflections: To the World from a Distant Son Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Calloused Foot Drifter Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsPoetry Apocalypse: & Selected Verse Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsHinge & Sign: Poems, 1968–1993 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Poems of Passion Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Swanman Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Waterborne: Poetic Offerings Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsCompleting the Circle Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsAt The Crossing Of Seven Winds Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsReborn and Other Versifications Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsA Glass Half Full Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsInspired: 8 Ways to Write Poems You Can Love Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsi bLEed DaRk - Poems About Pain, Life, Heavy Metal and Jesus Christ Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsPoems Of Passion: "With every deed you are sowing a seed, though the harvest you may not see." Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsOther Cruel Things Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
Poetry For You
The Sun and Her Flowers Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Edgar Allan Poe: The Complete Collection Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The Odyssey: (The Stephen Mitchell Translation) Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Bell Jar: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Divine Comedy: Inferno, Purgatory, and Paradise Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Pretty Boys Are Poisonous: Poems Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Selected Poems Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Gilgamesh: A New English Version Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Inward Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Dante's Divine Comedy: Inferno Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Iliad of Homer Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Daily Stoic: A Daily Journal On Meditation, Stoicism, Wisdom and Philosophy to Improve Your Life Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The Canterbury Tales Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Beyond Thoughts: An Exploration Of Who We Are Beyond Our Minds Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5For colored girls who have considered suicide/When the rainbow is enuf Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Prophet Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The Way Forward Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Winter Hours: Prose, Prose Poems, and Poems Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Tao Te Ching: A New English Version Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The Iliad: The Fitzgerald Translation Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Beowulf: A New Translation Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Dante's Inferno: The Divine Comedy, Book One Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Things We Don't Talk About Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A Collection of Poems by Robert Frost Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Poems That Make Grown Men Cry: 100 Men on the Words That Move Them Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5You Are Here: Poetry in the Natural World Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Leaves of Grass: 1855 Edition Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Waste Land and Other Poems Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Complete Poems of John Keats (with an Introduction by Robert Bridges) Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5
Related categories
Reviews for Musings of a Nascent Poet
0 ratings0 reviews
Book preview
Musings of a Nascent Poet - Stephanie Barr
Musings of Nascent Poet
By Stephanie Barr
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2014 Stephanie Barr
Discover other titles by Stephanie Barr at Smashwords.com
Conjuring Dreams or Learning to Write by Writing
Tarot Queen
Beast Within (First of the Bete Novels)
Nine Lives (Second of the Bete Novels)
Saving Tessa
Dedicated to Stephanie, Roxy and Alex, always.
A special thanks also to Sandy Knauer Morgan and Nancy Ternes Hodson.
Cover created by Stephanie Barr using 1© Ianlangley - 1950 Teddy Bear Photo licensed through Dreamstime
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return toSmashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents
Introduction
Idealism R Us
Inspiration
Rewriting Stories to Suit Me
Myths
Dedicated to the ones I love
Epic (largely original) stories
Lovelorn
Off the Beaten Path
Silliness
About the Author
Coming Soon
1Introduction
Again, as in Conjuring Dreams, I'm writing an introduction and will include some explanation on these works. I do this even though I feel strongly that, as a general rule, writing should stand on its own without extraneous explanation. It should be self-explanatory.
So, why?
Several reasons, not the least of which is that this poetry was among my earliest work. Many of these poems were written (probably the majority) when I was still a teenager. Rather than rewrite them in keeping with the way I think now, I have chosen to largely preserve them (with a few syntax corrections and the like) as they were rather than updating them into something different. Part of this is to document how I grew as a writer (another reason for the explanations) but also because they were a reflection of who I was back then, what I was thinking and feeling, what mattered to me. That's one of the things poetry can really do well and changing them from that would completely change their significance.
Another reason, as I noted, is that this work can showcase what I was experimenting with and learning to do better as a writer. There are some aspects of my writing, especially reaching for an emotional response, that I did best in poetry, but still helped me hone skills and an understanding I tried to carry forward into prose. In fact, you'll see a number of poems that are the same or similar stories to those that were later made into short stories.
There was also a considerable amount of experimentation, trying to imagine myself in very difficult circumstances or doing things I would never do myself. That means that, while most of my writing is a fairly good reflection on my view of the world, several poems reflect positions or viewpoints that are antithetical to my own views or beliefs. Still the exception and not the rule, but important to understand as I am not nor ever will be a vampire.
Lastly, given that I was just starting writing, my work was far more heavily influenced by authors and movies and stories than my later work. A large number of my epic poems were retelling myths or came from watching some movie (often not that good) and hating some aspect so that I had to rewrite it to suit myself. Several other poems were based on taking a line or an impression from an author I admired and putting my own story with it. But, without some explanation, it could be bewildering.
I also should provide an explanation, some sort of warning to what you are about to be subjected to: with one notable exception (a story all its own), all of my poetry is rhyme and rhythm, much of it long and of the epic variety. Also, in keeping with my influences and my tendency to think happy rhyme/rhythm poetry sounds silly and greeting card-like, most is sad if not downright maudlin. Believe me when I tell you, that's about as unsellable a set of poetry as one person could devise. If that scares you, you can stop here and I won't blame you. Some of my poetry is old, dated or concerned with issues that have fallen largely by the wayside. Even so, old-fashioned or otherwise, I also find it compelling even now, some twenty-thirty years later. There's some work I'm very proud of in here, reflections of how I think and why I feel and act the way I do. They are special to me, not only as to where I've been, but as a reflection of what mattered to me, how I've grown, and how I haven't.
Also, though rhyme/rhythm is totally out of style, this is good stuff. Good enough that, if I were born 150 years ago, I think you would have read about me in school.
Note also, 1because sound is a part of these poems, they were made to be read aloud.
If you're going forward, I hope you enjoy it.
Idealism R Us
I included this poem, written with my father in mind, in Conjuring Dreams. It is, in fact, the first thing I've written that I didn't toss (which is what happened to my earliest poetry). I wrote it when I was thirteen or fourteen. My father was something of an inspiration for it given that he was quite concerned about the Cold War and the potential for nuclear war. When I showed this poem to my father (who was not much for fiction or poetry by any stretch), he made me promise never to throw any of my work away again. And that's why there's a book of poetry here at all.
The notion is somewhat dated today. Still, I was not alone in my concerns and the daunting realization that we had the power to effectively destroy the world as we knew it. Even now, I think that the fact that destructive power we still have is something to be concerned about, though, of course, we're trying to kill our world more subtly now. The other two poems that follow are along the same lines, though without the religious aspect.
Cold Wind on the Hill
One August morning as nighttime had paled,
Fighting broke out as the peacetalkers failed
And the War had begun that no one would win.
Grieved for His children, He looked on His kin
And sent down an angel to quiet the din.
But no one would listen for he had no right
To sue them for peace when they wanted to fight,
'Til, fin'ly, repulséd, he fled in disgrace,
Quite sick to the heart for the Master he'd face
To tell of the end of the earth's human race.
Yet, though it seemed futile, God, too, had to try
To keep all those missiles from wounding the sky,
But man just ignored Him and forced His retreat,
Weeping with grief for His mankind's defeat,
And for their blind bloodlust he couldn't unseat.
So, man set his guns up, his missiles, his bombs
And sent them all out on one hot August dawn.
Then cities exploded in huge clouds of dust,
While millions were killed in this political must,
Whole nations reduced to just heat-blackened crust.
Now, on a small hill does a lone Figure stand,
With tears in His eyes and blood on His hands.
The land all is barren; the grey air is still,
Which tortures that gentle Soul, there on the hill,
As, for once in His life, God, Himself, feels a chill.
A Song for the Future
A gentle breeze blows from the sea
To stroke the golden shore,
A sloping beach of gilded sand
That children walked before—
But childish laughter's long been dead
And men walk here no more.
The deep dark sea's waves dance and play
As once the dolphin played
Who soared and sang in azure foam,
Their lovely strange ballet,
But dolphins sank their final time
And blue's now steely grey.
A snow-tipped mountain glows ice-blue,
A rugged monument,
A place where once a forest grew
And deer were resident—
But with the trees and deer now gone,
Its face looks scarred and rent.
The sunset once again glows red
And violet-pink indeed,
More wondrous than it ever was
Before the doomed decree,
More lovely than the other sky—
But no one's there to see . . .
The Shadow
There is lightness all around me,
A fairyland of light.
The sun is shining gaily
As the birds carouse in flight.
With their trilling and the sunshine
All the world seems wondrous bright,—
A clear delight—
To me, it's dark as coal.
There's a shadow on my soul.
All the flowers smell of summer
And the fields are rich and green.
All around me there are colors
That are very seldom seen.
The wind skips by me, laughing,
And its breath is warm and clean—
Its taste is keen.
To me, it's bitter cold
For the shadow's on my soul.
Somewhere it is filled with gloom
And rain pours, dark and drear.
Unclean, it comes from tainted clouds
That float in skies, once clear,
But stained with dust from cities
That had huddled once in fear—
Then, disappeared . . .
For man had lost control
On the shadow on his soul.
Ryan's Dream
Soldier Ryan had a dream
That filled his soul with pain.
His heart sang out a mindless scream
That echoed through his brain.
He walked upon a bloody beach
That he had seen before
And stepped a bloody footstep
Upon the bloody shore.
Slain comrades laid beneath him, broke:
'Twas in their blood he stepped!
Ryan all at once awoke,
Then bowed his head and wept.
Abhorréd vision, go away!
The sight made to deplore:
The squelching crimson boot that fell
Upon the bloody shore.
He vowed to save those comrades
When, the next day, they would flight.
He vowed he'd save them from the raids.
He vowed it all that night.
But his eyes just saw the scarlet sea
That made his terror soar.
He felt that bloody footstep fall
Upon the bloody shore.
The next day, he went crazy,
Fought like he had lost his mind,
And mowed down ranks of enemy,
His friends left far behind.
'Til finally, it was over;
Opposing forces were no more
And not one friend had lost his soul
Upon that silent shore.
So, now, he walks in glory
On the beach's stainéd sand
But stained by his adversity
Who stained his feet and hands.
The vanquished lay beneath him
But his heart will cry no more . . .
As he steps a bloody footstep
Upon the bloody shore.
Interesting story about the previous poem. My high school English teacher showed it to a college professor (along with several of my other poems). Both of us were rather taken aback that he missed the point of nearly every poem, reading only the surface ideas and missing what was underneath. This was notably true of this poem (Ryan's Dream
) which, in case you missed it, is blatantly pacifist. The professor wrote in the margins: Why is she glorifying war?
I was floored. Ironically, he also added the complaint that my poetry was too superficial. In some ways, I treasure his comments. My English teacher suggested I make the pacifism more obvious, but I chose not to. The fact that it's subtle, that the dream comes true and he doesn't even recognize it is the whole point.