Showing posts with label bruce meyer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bruce meyer. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

I Am That Woman - Vanessa Shields (Black Moss Press)

Today's book of poetry:
I Am That Woman.  Vanessa Shields.  First Line Poetry Series/Black Moss Press.  Windsor, Ontario.  2013.


From the sounds of this poetry Vanessa Shields is someone you'd like to sit around the kitchen table with, telling war stories.

Watching and listening as she rants bold, beautiful and bawdy in I Am That Woman is a privileged thrill.

These poems jump off of the page with a voice of such powerful self-possessed femininity, womanhood, girlPOWER, you almost want to get up and dance.

It's like Shields is making a new declaration of place and time and ownership of her gender with each poem.

Empty Movie Theatre

We fucked in an
Empty movie theatre
Third row from the back
On the seat near the stairs
So the light could help us
See the buttons on our shirts
The zippers on our pants
The hunger in our eyes

The soles of my shoes
Stuck to the gray painted floor
Helping me steady my legs
As I rode him like
John Wayne his favourite horse

I worked at The Palace
So I knew
I knew when the theatre
Was     open
            empty
            free for the taking
And it should be taken
With messy verve and
Sloppy slapping of
Horny genitals needing midnight release

We fucking in an
Empty movie theatre
As often as we could
Two film lovers
In the buff
Bouncing on blue seats
Appreciating the splendor
Of a blank white screen

Watching us

...

I frigging (a word my artist friend Adrian Gollner would use because he is too fine a man to swear, not me, I'd normally use the other word) loved this book.  From the opening alarming pages to the section of eloquent longer poems called "I Am That Woman".

Shields holds back nothing.  Poem after tantalizing poem tightrope walks with equal parts tension and tease.

Where Is The Love?

These days I choose sleep over sex
Fiction over poetry
Movies over dancing

But oh we still dance
Do we ever dance
In the kitchen to Maroon 5 with the kids
Between our legs
My son reaching up to grab one boob
My daughter reaching up to grab the other

Where is the love in this poem?
The same place it is in our lives
In the passing glance he gives me as I wash the dishes
In the stink of our bad breath as I say good morning before the sun is
up and I leave the bed to go downstairs and
write everything but love poems
In the way he grabs my ass when I bend down to pick up a coat for the
nine jillionth time
In the way he tells me I'm beautiful ever when I haven't brushed my
hair and I can't remember the last time I took a shower

And when his hand finds the hill of my hip and
His fingers find the valley between my legs
            We remember
Our bodies guide us to yesterdays past when
Pleasuring each other was the only priority
When time to explore and explode was
An afternoon instead of a fifteen-minute morning romp
            We remember
How to show our love with our tongues and our skin
Not just with our eyes and our words

It all counts
It all matters
Our love was strong enough to make two kids
And it's strong enough to love them
more than all the love poetry in the world

...

This is not your Mothers poetry, this is an assault, a bold declarative line in the sand book.

Everyone in our office was howling, we are always thrilled when a book comes through the door that makes us sit straight up.  I Am That Woman had us standing on our chairs.  There was some dancing.

The Astronaut in my Shower

He's on the wall in my shower
Framed in splotchy molded grout
I see his back
Square white oxygen pack
Hefty boots round helmet
He's reminding me where earth is

He doesn't peak at my naked body
Looks away from my sagging breasts
Stretch-marked belly
Botticelli hips my
Hairy legs and armpits

He's quiet when
I masturbate or
When I cry and
Look to him for celestial help

...

Vanessa Shields just won Rookie of the Year here at Today's book of poetry.  Any year in fact.  This excellent debut of poetry blew our minds, kissed our cheek.

Outstanding.

Vanessa Shields

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Shields has made her home, her family and her work life flourish in Windsor, ON. Her passion for writing was discovered at a very young age through the vein of writing in a journal. Her first book, Laughing Through A Second Pregnancy – A Memoir, was published by Black Moss Press in 2011 to rave reviews. In April 2013, Shields edited Whisky Sour City, an anthology of poetry about and for her hometown city of Windsor. I Am That Woman, her first book of poetry, was published in November 2013. Her poetry, short stories and photography has been published is various literary magazines. She mentors, guest speaks and teaches creative writing, and she also created Poetry On Demand, on-the-spot poetry that helps make poetry fun and accessible for all.

BLURB
"Vanessa Shields' first book of poems, I Am That Woman, is a verdant and earthy conversation with the world where she celebrates her womanhood, her engagement with the actual, and with the power that words hold to capture the magic of a moment. Shields articulates an honesty that is refreshing and invigorating -- to say nothing of erotic -- and the directness and energy of her vision heralds the arrival of a frank and memorable voice. The overwhelming response to her poems is YES!"
      Bruce Meyer, Poet Laureate, city of Barrie


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Monday, November 10, 2014

The Seasons - Bruce Meyer (The Porcupine's Quill)

Today's book of poetry:
The Seasons.  Bruce Meyer.  The Porcupine's Quill.  Erin, Ontario.  2014.


Respect.

Deep, deep respect.

The Seasons is a one hundred sonnet love song.  Really, really not my cup of tea.

So why did I LOVE it?

I'd ask my new intern, but since she read it she has been softly weeping in the corner, sipping tea, and glaring at me.  I know what she is thinking.  She is thinking that if I don't rave about this book she will have to kill me.  She looks very serious about it.
.
She needn't worry,  No problem.  I would've raved without her menacing, unspoken threats.

I loved this book because it reminded me how powerful love is, how precious.  Meyer's gentle voice hits exactly the right note, again and again.  Honest and clear.

Assurance

Just as I am woken by a passing plough
in the middle of the night, I open my eyes

in time to catch its flashing blue light
reflected on the bedroom wall, the engine

grunting, the scoop grating the street bed,
and my dreams are paved like the road

in destinations where I want to see the way ahead,
cleared for us, but that is not the world's way.

If I am lucky enough, the snows will clog
your route to work and we shall spend

the day together, housebound, your voice
filling the silence as if summer returned,

and to assure myself you are still near,
I shuffle my toe to touch your leg until you sigh.

...

Bruce Meyer is an accomplished and well published old pro.  These beautiful sonnets seem effortless but the discipline to sustain such a high, sweet note is remarkable.

Tenderness is too overlooked in our society and often mocked in poetry.  Bruce Meyer's The Seasons is a living, loving testament to tenderness.  One long whisper into a lover's ear.

Flannel

Flannel leaves more to the imagination
than silks or satins against smooth skin.

It tells me that just as in all great art
the mind must be engaged in discovery,

that the curves of your body are uncharted
and my hands will trace my thoughts--

that when I close my eyes I see a goddess
hidden beneath your warm-skinned smile.

It is cold outside. The wind is howling.
It claws at the house and whines to come in.

It merely wants to be warm at last--
to slip its hand inside your button front

and dream of paradise and tropical light
as a navigator kisses land on his arrival.

...

It took me a while to read The Seasons because every time I teared up my glasses steamed.

Damn Bruce Meyer.

Tree

We are one soul built from a solemn vow,
a tree whose branches reach beyond us,

a place that maps cannot contain, existing
in both shadows and sunlight, the music

of wind that makes our lives speak the love
of life together growing brighter as we grow.

To be one is to offer shade to others on days
when sun bakes the earth and air lingers

waiting for a passing breath to give it voice.
To be one is to fill the air with life magnified

as a beacon standing tall across a harvest field
where the farmer has drawn out the soil's life

so others might be fed: and we shelter love
the way a tree guards a nest until hatchlings fly.

...

Where I expected formality these poems sounded warmly sage, Meyer never wavers.  These one hundred sonnets of love, in the tradition of Pablo Neruda's Cien sonetos de amor, sing of boundless love.

What a pleasure.

Bruce Meyer

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Bruce Meyer is author of numerous books of poetry, short fiction, non-fiction, pedagogy, and literary journalism. His broadcasts on The Great Books became the CBC’s bestselling spoken-word audio series, and evolved into the national bestseller, The Golden Thread: A Reader’s Journey Through the Great Books. He is professor of English at Georgian College, and teaches for Laurentian University, Victoria College in the University of Toronto, and St. Michael’s College Continuing Education Program. He is the inaugural Poet Laureate of the City of Barrie, and lives in Barrie, Ontario with his wife and daughter.

BLURB
"Bruce Meyer's latest collection, The Seasons, is an unabashed paean to human love and the invisible cords that bind a man and woman together. In a brave and passionate hundred sonnet sequence the poet's moving tribute to his wife navigates the vagaries of intimacy through the passage of the seasons. A work reminiscent of Neruda's hundred love poems, Meyers's words shine with sincerity and originality."
     James Clarke, author of The Kid from Simcoe Street

Bruce Meyer - Best Lecture  2010
Bruce Meyer discusses his poetry.


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