Thursday, May 7, 2015

My Gift to Life... and a goodbye note


Amidst life's clamor
I cannot imagine the silence
that will one day surround me.
I will not hear the footfalls above me
nor feel the rain weeping on my grave.
I will not be able to thank a grandson
for bringing me flowers
or wipe away a granddaughter's tears
as she kisses the stone face
on which my name is engraved.

But within earshot of my lover
I fervently hope
that my whispers will meet his
through the roots and tendrils
of porous earth
and we will gurgle and murmur
like two underground streams
which know nothing of endings.

 Ute Carson's poem "Eternity" was published by The Voices Project in December 2013 and it was also selected among the Ten Special Commendations of the 12th International Poetry Competition, in January 2014.)
  Ute Carson recently published "My Gift to Life", a collection of 23 poems . Afterglow, which I published in Southern Pacific Review three years ago, is also included in this compilation.
   The poems in "My Gift to Life" are about love, family, and reflections on life and death.  They are an invitation to cherish the moments of our fragile existence, and they remind us that love can be more powerful than pain, suffering and even death.
      It will be a nice gift to consider for Mother's Day. The proceeds from the sales of the book will go to the Institute of Culture in Constance, Romania.
             The painting I used in this post is by Marc Chagall.
          This month I selected PTSD by Michael P. McManus. Michael is a war veteran and an award-winning poet. His works have appeared in different literary journals including The Dublin Quarterly, Atlanta Review and Burnside Review. He is the recipient of an Artist fellowship Award from the Louisiana Division of the Arts.
   I also want to announce that I am no longer the poetry editor of Southern Pacific Review. I thank all the poets who trusted me with their work for the last four and a half years.  Keep reading and writing poetry. The world needs it more than ever.
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