Book Review “Wiregrass and Other Poems” from Moira J. Saucer review from David L O’Nan

Pre-Order here from Ethel Zine https://www.ethelzine.com/shop/wiregrass-and-other-poems-by-moira-j-saucer

Moira J Saucer is a disabled poet living in the Alabama Wiregrass. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Arkansas, Fayetteville. Her worked has appeared in literary magazines and anthologies in the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada including Black Bough Poetry Freedom- Rapture anthology, Visual Verse, Fly on the Wall Press, Ice Floe PressMooky Chick, Floodlight Editions, and Fevers of the Mind Poets of 2020.

Wiregrass and Other Poems review by David L O’Nan

I have been lucky enough to read Wiregrass and Other Poems and just the wonderful, melancholy collective works of Moira J. Saucer.  I admire Moira's writing and have been inspired to keep writing short story style poetry & prose due to Moira encouraging me with a story I submitted a few years ago to IceFloe Press.  I actually knew someone was actually reading my work again.  I received a "Best of the Net Nomination" for this piece and thank Moira, and IceFloe Press very much for keeping my confidence and expanding my style of writings now into my 40's.

This collection from Moira, is the gut of her soul.  It is the heartbreak, the sadness, the wanting to escape, the bewitching hour of living in the darkness and wondering if the moon will shine down on some Alabama Wiregrass tonight.   It is a recovery, back into your own cynicism, to lost, to feeling Godless to feeling God is in everything.  Wiregrass and Other Poems pours the aching hours of years into one  quick ride that you learn the heart of Moira.  The kindness of Moira, and where our mind goes when ends are coming. The Darkness of Moira.   I sit in this same kind of wanting solace, but never seeing the real Sun.  Almost like a ghost, the sun fades quickly just are you are discovering it is there.

"When You Fall"  :   "There you are conveniently sick and poor. You are trouble wrapped in thrift store clothes, a motley creature with little possibility for redemption"     a sad poem about remembering a more youthful time as a woman and feeling trapped by the never-ending days that stretch our mind more and more into the unknown.

"I survived the dark descent, the five years of shame, poverty and-
and yes hell."

"Homeless and Broke" :  A tale that feels like you're forever traveling long dark Alabama roads.  As i've done many times traveling from Kentucky/Indiana to New Orleans by car.  Forever on dark Alabama roads.  You get that sneak of Mobile, Birmingham, Tuscaloosa, Montgomery.   But then you just see shadowy trees that jump-stare at you like Frankenstein's Monster at 3 A.M.  looking for the Waffle House sign that doesn't sound good.       "I lay awake at night the pain from Fibro like sharp invisible knives thrusting and turning into muscle and tendon. The portent of my death"    Long lasting pain just like a long night of dark roads....doesn't ever feel to end.

"Woman A/The" :   A remembrance of glory days now feel like descent.   "She lies in a cot. The roaches crawl on her white skin. Flies hover over her bloody chest"

"When She was dying" for Quinn : A poem about memories, where you'd like to stay in those memories.  But family, a mother has to fade and you're never ready.     "She wore an otherworldly glow flushed from love and cancer"

"Wiregrass" : A poem of the wildness that once was.  Alabama nights  lead to the mischief, the rebellion, the fun, the regrets, the sadness in old lightbulbs.   "My days are spent cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, praying. Praying to stave off sorrow and madness, but sometimes these twin demons...wait outside the doors for blindness to set in, for gladness to fade"

"Wounds"  A poem about caring for someone who no longer can care fully for themselves.  The sadness they have seeps into yourself. And it just becomes too much to handle.     "Our bodies knit together flesh so we can go on living...but the wound memory is always there"

"Flower Thief"  A wonderfully put together poem that must be read. Very metaphorically, yet visibly strong. Imagery shines.   "the pallid woman told him she saw me stealing flowers... they call me a flower thief my crimes  stealing stars hope from the gods brilliant light"

"Kindness"  Heartbreak poem....love, lost, love, deception, love, forgiveness, or a void.       "She didn't fight the judgments. It was important to avoid ruffling waters, telling the truth. He had claimed to be an honest man, yet blamed her for his lust"

"Marbles"  wonderful imagery.   "I love marbles...bought beautiful ones in Chicago just to gaze at them lost now"    comparisons of just watching something in amazement for what it is and not what it should be. 

"Charolais"  "The Whole property was once pecan trees and cattle...Now there is only a pasture"....

"Midwife for Robert"  about friendship, motivation, refreshed, and appreciative of art, poetry, work, what a non-narcissistic view will help guide you to greatness when it comes to writing, art, your true heart's desire. The creative starvation sometimes has to be purged back out with the hope.    "Poems began to die from lack of oxygen...the poems and I began to die"

"Origins, at Sixty-Five"  I've read this poem many times and always amazed by how well it is structured together to convey to never give up what creates you and what you create.   "I shook the grain out into my hand, ancient yet bright, polished and buffed by the seas"

"Summertime"  Stuck in the muck of another summer down South during the hardest times, wanting to get out, but fate will not let you escape at this time....   "It's time for tornado season with no shelter, no place to hide, and it's god-awful-hot under the canopy of scabbed pecan trees"

"Loss"  The frustrations during the hardest period of time as a grand whole for the country. Especially, when you are living down south and what is fed to you is a machine of mudslinging.      "Pastels, beautiful colors, rolling onto emptiness of white space. I wept blending them-radiant pigments, a gorgeous burning nightmare"

"Night Visitation"  "Roads in Alabama roll away like giant tar pits, the blackness-deafening, dangerous"

"Vampire Story"  A story/poem about after you lose someone and  you just search for anything to keep your mind off it. To infatuate yourself with anything.  A story.  Mundane, love, cheesiness, or just leave me alone everyone and let me transcend away for awhile.

"August, 2019"   Very well put together poem using nature as a symbol in the imagery representing the blooming and the blackness of rolling clouds through the Summer.    "The garden flowers now shriveled, having bloomed into scattered color madness"

"Chrysalis (Queer Butterfly)" "The open road is transformed...I wait for you in a garden dense and fragrant"  a beautiful poem.

"Did I Tell You"   "We create another self...dissociate to absorb trauma." "The Second self watches from a distance being battered and gets exhausted too"      brilliant!  

4 poems from Fevers of the Mind Poets of 2020 by Moira J Saucer 

Pandemic Love & other Affinities from Icefloe press an anthology 

Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog. 

 *Announcements for October including release of Deluxe Edition of Before the Bridges Fell (Fevers of the Mind Press)*  

Paperback & Kindle version of Cursed Houses is now available from David L O’Nan on this link below




Poetry by David L O’Nan : Where Do I Leave?

Tunnel, Light

Where Do I Leave?

I met you in the death to skin fires In sticky pits full of fallen stars A dark red-curtained nauseous room with the moonlit hissing Your room is a dying egg shell white bleeding angel artwork, the Mona Lisa convulses off the walls. You broke my eggs to the Dirty Three the yolk is a permanent black crisping to wet dirty cement, Breathing up from the ground To paralyze me to this memory Pause, run, running I feel homeless Fainting to your lectures You fed me pills and secrets You harshly took my heart out, and drained it like a sponge. I have to escape this, I have to escape this, I have to escape this, These claws that grip I have to escape this, I have to keep running from this, I have to escape this, So fast from the macabre The claws that rip The hands of knives want to purge me into the holes, To fall in, and smell the sourness of a body That sweats away the alcohol That dances out all her dirty arrogance. The few that swim out The feeling I have to swim out I’ve got to swim out, This drowning, This drowning, Is closing in, I’m forever changed by your tattooing Left me in tears Leave me scared Leave me feeling sick and departed From my mind Leave me blushing in with fevers and leave in a hypnotic taboo. I drove away When you didn’t want me to I drove away Because I had to I drove away From this Kentucky Mountain Medusa In an alcoholic veil Mentally bruising Mentally washed Mentally forever wondering Mentally i’m ashamed When you were the one drawing all of the lines. In my car I try to scream But I can’t In my car I try to breathe But I can’t In my car I drive faster than the speed I drive into the black hole eyes of the road. Like chaos in the melting snow and the violins play louder “I Knew it Would Come to This” Again Paralyzed when the sky blackened The road feels like a lost tunnel with these, dim lights.

Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog.

Available Now: Before I Turn Into Gold Inspired by Leonard Cohen Anthology by David L O’Nan & Contributors w/art by Geoffrey Wren

Bending Rivers: The Poetry & Stories of David L O’Nan out now!

A Poetry Showcase for John Zurn August 2022

From Pixabay

Rising from the Ashes

Streaking down through fiery clouds,
the lightning bolt of mind
crashes through the sea of doubt
with wild and frantic cries.
But from the terror of this death,
the mind may soon ascend
and glimpse upon the heavens
to absorb the light again.


Make Believe

The magic world of make-believe
is meant for only children.
When grown-ups try to do the same,
they live a life of torment.
So we write our inner thoughts
in special cardboard journals.
No one cares about the words-
our rhyme of black and purple.


Delusions

Delusions were a way to live
that always served a purpose.
Subjective like a vision,
they always felt so certain.
But now I know the terror
of such a strange ordeal.
Luckily this error
no longer has appeal.

Caustic Brain

This caustic brain breeds chemicals
that taint my thoughts and feelings.
They reek and stifle constantly
and blister moods and reason.
My genes resemble poison jello,
so neurons pause and even stop.
But even if the waves are stalling,
the Blessed Spirit overcomes.


Short third person bio:
John Zurn has been faced with the challenges of bipolar disorder and anxiety disorder for his entire adult life.  Over the years he gradually learned that: medication, physical exercise, meditation and creative writing were vital for his long term recovery. Despite this challenge, he still managed to work as a teacher and counselor for over thirty-five years. Now retired, he has more time to write and publish poems and stories. 


Other links: Poetry Showcase for John Zurn




Poetry about Mental Health from Maria A. Arana

photo from Denny Muller on Unsplash.com

Window in the Dark

i walk past your slumber
catch a glimpse of your sleep
 
you toss to break away
doors to this dark room
 
night teachings of fear
i reach the doorknob and find gum
 
my fist connects with the window
shattering the glass into shards
 
i climb out
find a light switch
 
but shadows weave in
and grab hold of it
 
darkness reminds 
my hands bleed

i push myself back
past your bed
 
the pace changed my feet
now stuck on shoe glue
 
but your slumber resists
stays undisturbed
 
my cold breath screams out
our bedroom locks us in full retreat
 
while wind chimes whisk tunes unchanged
until my eyelids open


Spider's Mess

cobwebs overhead
tell nothing of what’s ahead
            fountains of blood
            mountains of flesh
inside this room
 
cobwebs hang icicles
tell nothing of what’s to come
            water falls like knives
            fire burns holes
inside my heart
and there you wait

This is what Faded Love Looks Like

we both knew 
this would happen
 
tell me you love me
tell me you care
 
then the times
when you don’t remember 
the last ache could spill over 
 
tell me it’s okay
tell me we’re through
 
playing games on the front lawn
where our soaked feet kiss the dawn
and memories still find their way home


Bio: Maria A. Arana is a teacher, writer, poet, and editor. Her poetry has been published in various journals including Spectrum, The Gonzo Press, and The Kleksograph. You can find her at https://twitter.com/m_a_Arana and https://aranaeditingservices.com

2009: A Recovery From Her Spiderweb by David L O’Nan

2009 A Recovery From Her Spiderweb

It had been 10 years 
A cold February Kentucky wind
Through a panic call
I guess united by fears
Silence, on a dark night drive
Clarity, lost through the wires
Arrivals to the death of Indigo.

A foolish man falls prey
To a Jekyll and Hyde constellation
Her screams, her pills, her knives & blades threatening
I have to be bare like the roses
Or else,
And now throw me to the pond,
Leave me a fish wanting to die.
In obscurity, floating with a manic dead mind.

You tried to weaken me, with words, with threats
Used me,
Driven me away to a trail of trauma
Like a long walk into a viewless forest.
Planted seeds of fire to my heart.

Trust comes on like impulsivity now
In a fright,
For what is real
And what is a monster with soft skin
I blister to my hands from a false touch.

That spreads like a virus. 

Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog. 

Hard Rain Poetry: Forever Dylan Anthology available today! 

Bare Bones Writings Issue 1 is out on Paperback and Kindle

Available Now: Before I Turn Into Gold Inspired by Leonard Cohen Anthology by David L O’Nan & Contributors w/art by Geoffrey Wren

Bending Rivers: The Poetry & Stories of David L O’Nan out now!