“Mahaba” Imprints In My Heart is one of multi-published AuthorHouse author Gloria D. Gonsalves’ books
The AuthorHouse Author’s Digest is delighted to welcome back multi-published AuthorHouse author Gloria D. Gonsalves. Today she asks readers to support her great passion, the art of poetry, by explaining that it is not really that difficult to read.
Poetry Is Not Ordinary but It Needs You
By Gloria D. Gonsalves
“Being able to express the same thought and image in fewer words, choosing more carefully, etc., makes poetry more difficult to master than prose.” This quoted sentence made me reflect.
I have been writing poems for over 5 years now and never once did I think it was difficult. My only difficulties are related to those occasions where I am put on the spot to write a poem of something or someone that I have no direct emotional connection with. Whether it is a birthday celebration or farewell event, it always is a test to my writing skills.
On such requests, I find it easier to write after my participation. It is only then that I find myself having the right words to portray the person and related emotions to the poem. In saying so, there have been times where I had to write and present during the event. In such situations, the end product is sometimes not to my satisfaction.
But if my poem is a fulfilling gesture to someone and the event, then I would give my best efforts as I could at that moment in time.
Generally I find it easier to express my feelings in the short form of poetry rather than prose. All I need is a key word and words begin to flow. Sometimes I doubt myself and consult the dictionary. I am still one who has to learn to let go and allow words to teach me by simply letting them come out of me.
Supposedly this uncertainty is from the fact that English is not my mother tongue. Furthermore when writing prose I find myself re-writing because when read out aloud, my sentences rhyme, which is not standard writing. But how can I avoid the art form that taught me to passionately write?
Literary experts consider prose as a dull form of expression. If it is so, then why is poetry getting fewer readerships? It cannot be that difficult to read, or is it?
Of course I too have my difficulties reading the old times poetry but I still appreciate them because they feed me with a foundation I need to understand of this expressive art. Nevertheless we have modern poetry, written in the language that most of us can make sense of.
Today I am on a mission to plead with readers.
Please do know that there are many of us out here that would feel honoured to do the difficult part of writing poetry for you. We live in the same era with you and therefore our poetry is modern and not Shakespearean. All you need do is support us in continuing this special art form by reading us.
Poetry rhymes, a song our souls need to nourish upon. Poetry is a drum, a sound our bodies wish to have. Poetry is organized, a reading our eyes wish to view. Poetry is refined, a structure our moral selves seek. Poetry is civil, instigating the world to remain sane. Poetry is not ordinary but it does need the ordinary eyes to continue to be the interesting art form of expression. Poetry is like a child communicating, who later grows to be an adult communicating in prose.
Would you want that child to die before reaching maturity?
Gloria D. Gonsalves’ AuthorHouse Bibliography
You can find out more about Gloria and her books on her official website www.auntieglo.com
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A SMOKER’S RAP (updated)
It’s small and thin and round and white.
It fits into a pack so tight.
You guessed it now, I’ll make a bet
You know it’s the pack for my cigarette.
I give the bottom a gentle smack.
I find the tab and pull it loose.
The foil folds out open for my use.
I gently lift one from the pack
You surely know where it fits
So quickly and so gently between my lips.
I flip my lighter, in day or night
And, lo and behold, I have a light.
The first drag is so cool and clean
It feels so smooth. It’s never mean.
I watch the smoke as it starts to rise.
With my blowing power, man, it really flies.
Somebody yells, “put that out.”
But they don’t know what it’s all about.
I like it. I love it. It’s a part of me.
They don’t know how great it can be.
Before I eat. Before I sleep.
They don’t understand. Let them weep.
Sure, I’ve heard the health reports
From non-smoker friends and other sports
And I’ve heard the stories and have been taught
But as for the problems, don’t give them a thought.
Others didn’t really stop in time.
But I got if figured. My time is mine.
Of course, my smoke is in my rugs.
I think it may help me to keep out the bugs.
My drapes and lungs have some bad stuff.
But I know I can stop before it gets rough.
And I even give the gals some tips
About what smoke residue puts on my lips.
Some folks think that smokers really stink.
It’s the life-risk residues that put us on the brink/
I love the “tar” and the nicotine.
They go well with toluidine,
I flaunt the residues of formaldehyde,
Carbon monoxide, Nitrogen oxide,
Hydrogen cyanide, Vinyl chloride,
Pyridine, N-nitrosodimethylamine,
And the amines of aniline,
Ethylaniline, dimethylaniline,
Naphthylamine, Methyl-1-naphthylamine,
Continine and Acarolein
Ethylene oxide. Benzene and toluene
Arsenic, Nickel, Butadene and Benzo(o)pyrene
Inobophenyl and carylonitrile
Beryllium, polonium, cadmium and chromium
And the singular Aminobiphenyl
I don’t know if those things wash off.
The choice to stop smoking is very rough.
But my surviving smoking friends won’t miss
The chance to check out with my tasty kiss.
Maybe you’d like the Turkish blend.
It’s tobacco roasted over a pile of manure.
It’s smell also has a special taste.
But mint gum can’t even kill the smell, for sure.
Some people suck the smoke through a tube of water.
Now, isn’t that a wonderful thing
To teach to your son or daughter?
Most smokers smoke until life ends.
I’ve lost a number of my smoking friends.
But I’ve had my time. They had theirs.
Many didn’t have time to say their prayers.
They had their licks and I’ve had mine.
Everybody makes their own good time.
What’s gonna be is gonna be.
Now you can see what’s good for me.
Dear friend.
. Your smoking habit is a trap in which you are now snared.
You see not the danger lurking, and you are unprepared
For the ultimate fate which is slowly smouldering near.
Your lungs give up the uneven fight, and leave you short of air!
Thinking not of those around you, the folk whom you hold dear,
The young babies breathing in your smoke, before they are one year!
The the sick folk who are asthmatic and suffer in distress
While you go gaily puffing – you couldn’t bother less.
But now my friend, you have been warned and shown the path you tread,
Or is this like a ring of smoke that floats above your head?
The warning has been given and now it’s up to you,
Give up this dangerous habit and start a healthy life anew!
I agree with you. Poetry is a wonderful way to express our most inner person and reveal it to the world. My favorite form is the sonnet. I used this vehicle to teach high-school seniors the principles of rhyme, rythm and refrain. I taught them this love poem could be any about anything from the Love/Hate spectrum. The wonderful thing is that in the writing, the students were unwittingly revealing themselves and their feelings. I gave each class the opportunity to challenge me to write a sonnet on a subject of their choosing. I have written everything from “Ode to Peanut Butter,” to “Ode to a Doorknob,”to McDonalds and Taco Bell. I have written and have taught them Shakespearean, Spenserian, Petrachan and Terza Rima. I can’t wait to get this one on the market.
The heart of a poem is the breath of the barb
who inhales the depth of chagrin
the words that are noted with message in tact
exhales the passion from within.
Poetry by any other name is still poetry.