I have always been a fan poetry. The freedom it represents has a way of speaking to me. I don’t get into the formalities of it all because personally I think that the style is individual to the writer.
To fore-warn you, this column will never focus on the rules imposed on writer’s by critics who have never known what it’s like to be tortured by the need to write. This column is for those who understand what it is like to live off of pots of coffee, bottles of wine, chain smoking and one hour of sleep.
With this in mind my first review will be on an up and coming poet, Dee Renee Smith and her book A Pouring Through.
I was drawn in from the first page, getting lost in her usage of descriptive verbiage, lower cased “i”s and weighted words.
What makes her different from any other poet?
Simple, she exposes herself on paper in a way that leaves one feeling the need to strip down their preconceived notions of what literature is supposed to be. Her writing forces us to face emotion, explore our feelings, and weep without regard to who sees us.
Dee Renee Smith has found a way to tap into the bloodstream and exploit the feelings we pretend don’t exist.
You know that feeling you get that travels down the back of your neck and rolls down your spine making you shiver? Her truth does the same thing. Her flow grabs a hold of your spirit and feeds off of your inner most thoughts.
She captures you with a slight of hand, a twist of a word, and a simple complex thought.
Don’t just take my word for it, you be the judge:
The Friend After Hour 2:
I made her hate me because I wanted her
I wanted to possess her the way she possessed me
from that first postcard
whose hypnotic words and script
caught and kept me read
to our last meeting in The Cut
when tact and truth sharing
left me frigid and forlorn
I wanted to commit to her and be kept
seems like she always talked about length
the amount of time that people stuck around
after The Cut killed that fuzzy feeling
I saw that she thought very little about our time
and the commitment i wanted with her
so, I decided to leave her paralyzed
I wanted to destroy her
kill her ability to feel
so that memories of me
would leave her too numb to love again
and when I couldn’t continue to entertain thoughts
of my pain-inspired assault
I skipped town
and slipped that pivotal disc
that has left her immobile for 3 years
For that, she has hated me
now, years later
and a day after I destroyed an altar
that was built with potent, inescapable memories of us
and was covered with multiple pieces of me
that had been burned and offered multiple times
and was surrounded by multiple, defaced effigies of her
she called me
gave me 2 cleansing yet fleeting hours
and said that after working through some things
she think she's ready to talk again.
That piece took me into her thoughts and allowed me to see through her eyes. And it only gets better. A Pouring Through is filled with pages and pages of floetic beauty. Be sure to grab your copy today.
Happy reading and I hope you enjoy the work of Dee Renee Smith as much as I enjoyed writing about and reading her book, A Pouring Through.
Please leave your comments below and feel free to pass along titles you've been curling up to lately.
Til we meet again Sweets I'm signing off,