Tonya Liburd's Blog, page 8
November 21, 2017
Quoth
“A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots.” ~ Marcus Garvey
Filed under: Quoth Tagged: marcus garvey, Quoth, roots, Tonya Liburd, tree
October 21, 2017
Been a while, but… updates!
I attended CanCon! (www.can-con.org)
Public report incoming; I talk about the most important thing that I did/happened to me at CanCon in my Patreon update…(link below)
My poem, “Strange Ink”, appears in Polar Borealis Magazine,’s July/August 2017 issue!
Alligators In The Sewers, an Unnerving Magazine chapbook, contains my poem, “Let Me In”!
Skiffy and Fanty Podcast interview me in their Signal Boost feature
I was part of Cat Rambo’s roundtable discussion on the #BlackSpecFic reports and what do no next for SFWA
New update in my Patreon! (www.Patreon.com/Tonya Liburd)
Filed under: Mental Health, Writing Tagged: Alligators In The Sewers, CanCon, Let Me In, patreon, Poem, Unnerving Magazine
July 27, 2017
July 11, 2017
“A Question of Faith” is live and can be bought as an ebook over at BookSmugglers!
You can read it, and buy the ebook with has extra features, such as an essay!
It’s over at BookSmugglers.
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Filed under: Writing Tagged: A Question Of Faith, amazon, BookSmugglers, ebook, epub, mobi, nook, Tonya Liburd
April 15, 2017
Quoth
Easter quote:-
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
— William Butler Yeats, 1920
Filed under: Quoth Tagged: Easter, Quoth, William Butler Yeats
April 1, 2017
My short story and poems, for your consideration, for the 2017 Aurora and Rhysling Awards
My short story’s called “Shoe Man”, is unanimously (if I may say so myself) loved, short and sweet, and can be read online here over at the July issue of Expanded Horizons.
“Contemplation” was originally published in the Cascadia Subduction Zone in July of 2016:-
One African night,
Worn of living, tired of not dying,
feeling deep within my heart
the absolute certainty I did not fit
into the grand scheme,
I raised my face skyward,
regarded the black-skinned sky,
the black-skinned universe,
black-skinned me,
and dug myself an early grave.
She laughed at me, her lips luscious
red as blood,
red as the blood we drank,
red as the blood we need,
…She laughed at me then
And told me all I would find if I buried myself
was that Mother Earth had not abandoned me,
Undead child of the moon that I was.
In the grave, I turned my face
from sky, from moon, from her,
to the earth,
and waited on eternity
for the answer.
Meanwhile, as human civilization went on and on,
Trees’ roots embraced me, surrounding my arms, legs,
rich loam attached to my eyelashes.
Peace whispered secrets, leaching, into my bones,
filling my emptiness, and I knew
this was the answer.
At length I rose with the African moon, empowered
with what I was – a creature of the Earth like any other.
She was nowhere to be found, but black-skinned men
pounded spikes, hammered tracks
intended to cross the continent, they told me
everything controlled by pale-skinned men, who miser’d knowledge
and had guns.
One approached me, deferring to me, elder to eldest.
I lifted my head to the black-skinned sky,
the black-skinned universe, child of the moon that I was,
a new purpose bestowed,
and set out to give oppressors terror, and to men, freedom.
The Architect of Bonfires was originally published in 2016 in Space and Time Magazine, Issue #127 (also nominated for a Rhysling Award):-
The Architect of Bonfires
Weaves magic to and fro
He knows the art of fire
Makes one for cooking just so.
The Architect of Bonfires
Is a “witch doctor”, a Wise Man
And sees the same potential
In a scared, approaching woman…
The Architect of Bonfires
Divines her tale without being told
He comforts her with soup –
A remedy of old
He admires her midnight skin
Putting his darkness to shame
Marvels at her stark white hair
He knows exactly what’s her fear –
The chaos, the destruction that ensues
When she creates fire out of thin air
She comes now requesting aid
And aid he will gladly give
Yet she will return for magical skills
Not just to survive but to thrive, live
Suspense, danger,
coming to terms with her magic,
personal tests – all that lies in her future
– but for now, some hearty soup will suit her
Just fine
From the Architect of Bonfires
Filed under: Writing Tagged: 2016, 2017, Aurora Award, cascadia subdustion zone, Contemplation, Expanded horizons, July 2016, poetry, Shoe Man, short story, space and time magazine, the architect of bonfires
My short story and poem, for your consideration, for the 2017 Aurora Award
My short story’s called “Shoe Man”, is unanimously (if I may say so myself) loved, short and sweet, and can be read online here over at the July issue of Expanded Horizons.
Here, I’ll post my qualifying poem, originally published in 2016 in Space and Time Magazine, Issue #127 (also nominated for a Rhysling Award):-
The Architect of Bonfires
by Tonya liburd
The Architect of Bonfires
Weaves magic to and fro
He knows the art of fire
Makes one for cooking just so.
The Architect of Bonfires
Is a “witch doctor”, a Wise Man
And sees the same potential
In a scared, approaching woman…
The Architect of Bonfires
Divines her tale without being told
He comforts her with soup –
A remedy of old
He admires her midnight skin
Putting his darkness to shame
Marvels at her stark white hair
He knows exactly what’s her fear –
The chaos, the destruction that ensues
When she creates fire out of thin air
She comes now requesting aid
And aid he will gladly give
Yet she will return for magical skills
Not just to survive but to thrive, live
Suspense, danger,
coming to terms with her magic,
personal tests – all that lies in her future
– but for now, some hearty soup will suit her
Just fine
From the Architect of Bonfires
Filed under: Writing Tagged: 2016, 2017, Aurora Award, Expanded horizons, July 2016, poetry, Shoe Man, short story, space and time magazine, the architect of bonfires
March 12, 2017
Today seems to be Microfiction Idea Day…
Go take a nap, wake up with another microfiction idea…
Here’s a taste:-
“Open the door, you son of a bitch!”
Bang. Bang. Bang. The wood on the bathroom door began to splinter.
Wanna read the whole thing? Sign up at my Patreon for the appropriate award!
http://www.Patreon.com/TonyaLiburd
Filed under: Snippet, Writing Tagged: patreon, snippet, Tonya Liburd, writing
March 11, 2017
I have a Patreon now!
I need to eat.
I need to create.
I need to network to access resources to improve my writing. I need to not have to choose between eating and transportation.
I need to sell the anthologies I am in to make money at conventions.
All this and more is why I have turned to Patreon, where I have unique content, and I plan on going deeper into the trials, the tribulations, the struggle, the drive, to not just survive with a major mental illness, but to live, thrive.
It’s not a smooth journey.
Interested? Become a patron.
Help me live.
Filed under: Mental Health, Uncategorized, Writing Tagged: patreon, Tonya Liburd
