Sunday, March 26, 2017

Ode to Joy (times three!) Rich Murphy: BODY POLITIC, Jessica Rigney: Entre Nous (with Bradley J. Books), and! James B Peters: THE FARM

from Tama, 
assistant editor:
"This may be our 
favorite post!  
Poetry  from 
our homies!"
from assistant 
editor Frosty:  
"These good 
people are
so exciting..."

ok, noble assistants, here we go!

'It begins at the spine and lips, you see --
                                           A galaxy.'
                                                           Jessica Rigney

We have been to many poetry reading's featuring Jessica Rigney,
and this is a lovely ('and lusty', says Tama) little collection 
of her poetry...
connect directly with Jessica:  
and, Twitter@poetjess

Front and title page art by Bradley Books, truly, one of our own- Tama:  "Bradley was, for some time, one of our homeless, yet! His art and decent worthiness overcame issues, he now works across the street from us, and is a painter and poet exhibiting his work regularly along Colorado's front range!"
Bradley can be followed at Instagram@bradleyjbooks

"And," states Frosty, "this lovely little collection was published by
Boar Hog Press, of Nederland, Colorado" 

Boar Hog Press
uses 30% fiber and 70%
post-consumer recycled 
fiber paper...

Frosty: "they live and
thrive in Nederland, 
a small mountain 
town near us,
home of their 
yearly festival
'Frozen Dead Guy Days'"...

'It’s a Dead Man’s Party
For a town like Nederland that thrives on the colorful, the offbeat, and the weird, Frozen Dead Guy Days is a fitting way to end the short days of winter and head into the melting snows of spring. Trygve Bauge calls it “Cryonics’ first Mardi Gras.”
The community experiences a new burst of life with the festival’s creative contests, icy events (including coffin racing, polar plunging, frozen salmon tossing) basically if it is fun and can be done in the cold, it goes! People come from around the world every March to experience the legacy of Grandpa Bredo – even representatives of cryonics organizations who want to share the science behind this unique story.'
yes, and in the 80's, both my brother and I lived in and around Nederland...
Tama, stating, "mister editor, now let's refocus on two more worthy poets
we also want to honor..."

well said, Tama....

when Prolific Press sent us several copies
of my haiku chapbook, Window Left Open, 

they also sent this poetry collection:


"and we all have read it from cover to cover," states Tama

Frosty: "Prolific Press really purred when they published these 
108 poems by Mr Murphy!"

       yes, Frosty, you speak for all of us here at bear creek...



             The sardine cans
               follow one another into the city
               while a poet relaxes all day,
               crosses your tracks, dots your landscape,
               and if you read one of his poems,
               you've read them all.  "Come out,
               come out, wherever.  You are!"
               The sardine cans
               follow one another out of the city.
               Your life is filled with a house and its tools,
               saturated with olive oil and prosody.

            from Prolific Press,

 "And!", states Tama, "this loverly Poetry collection from our longtime friend, a man we have long admired and appreciated, Mr. James B. Peters, of Cottontown, Tennessee..."

                          THE FARM

                   MEMORIES OF FOUR SEASONS
                      FOUR TO FORTY SEVEN
                        THE WAR AND AFTER



                             THE PEN OF

                          JAMES B. PETERS

"Jim has been sending us adorable, deep-hearted collections of his poetry for some decades now, and we love 'em", states Tama,
"and his poetry books are creative endeavors by him, his children,
and his grandchildren!"

Frosty, "and if you just send Jim a postcard, or a brief note, or!  ask for a copy of his book, many folk in Cottontown, TN, and Longmont, CO, would deeply appreciate your so doing,
and that includes numerous kitty cats":

            James B. Peters
            1001 Cottontown, TN

a few from the heart and soul of James B. Peters, his family, and his friends... 

          They came by sea                                      
          My ancestors
          Turned oceans of prairie grass
          Into homestead and farm,
          Watched wind wave fields of wheat.

          On the hill 
          Spring daffodils 
          Still form the border 
          Of the old farm garden,
          Each year they remember.

          Cast my ashes
          Upon the flooded stream
          So they settle
          On my youthful haunt,
          The farm where I was born.

          Every thing is damp
       In the early morning fog,
           Even the chickens

             The old barn
         Shouldering the rain
            Onto the earth.

           Through the snow
              The old barn
           with its doors ajar.

            Canada geese
         Glide to a landing
         On the farm pond,
      The softness of her touch.

Tama:  "you know, this is the first time I've cried as we're created a post, yet I feel so good because we did it"
Frosty, "me, too..."

yes, noble assistants, me three
and now...

"treats?" asks Frosty

yes!  we have earned our treats, and let's go share them with Judy!  Tama: "also a big hug!" 

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen


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