Wruth's Writings and Art

[Carol]

You won't get it signed from amazon.

[Ruth]

A review of my book

http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/...

This is a book not to be missed. It sings beauty through such lucid color imagery and vivid images. Ruth is one of the curators for the Goodreads poetry contest run every month, read her work to be inspired and to see many portrayals of an image in words, which is her expertise. Her quiet manner is powerful.

[Ruth]

Gabi wrote: "Uh, Ruth? Won't the postage need to be more if the book's going to Australia?"

That's between you and Amazon.

[Ruth]

Rattle's doing a series of photos of poet's writing spaces.

Here's mine.



As you can see, a neat freak I am not.

And here's the link to more https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?s...

[Carol]

Inspirational point!

[Ruth]

Pirene's Fountain is revisiting their Beverage Anthology. It includes a poem I wrote in a fit of nostalgia, The Bartender's Guide to Summer Drinks.

http://pirenesfountain.com/archives/i...

[Ruth]

Kentucky Review has three of my poems up--The Joy of Cooking, Elegy for my Mother, and A Song on the End. Click on this link and then choose a poems from the black box on the right.

http://www.kentuckyreview.org/poetry/...

[Ruth]

In Verse Wisconsin there's a fine review of Forgetting Home: Poems about Alzheimer's, an anthology which includes my poem, "The Shirt," first published in Poetry East.

http://versewisconsin.org/Issue113/re...


The Shirt

In the dressing room
I tell my mother to take off her shirt.
“I don’t understand why we’re here,”

she says. I explain again about the cancer,
and hang her shirt on the hook.
“Whose shirt is that?” she asks.

After the X-rays, we go back
to the dressing room. She looks
at the shirt on the hook.

“Where did that come from?”
“It’s yours,” I say, and hand it to her.
“Why am I here?” she asks again.

“To see about the cancer.”
“I don’t have cancer,” she says.
“And this is not my shirt.

[Ken, Moderator]

Wow. Powerful in its simplicity and sadness.

[Ruth]

A beautiful little book by Six Arrow Press, on visual poetry. I’m pleased to have four of my pieces included. My MFA is in Painting, I spent many years as an exhibiting artist, and teaching art at the college level. In these hybrid pieces I combine my two loves, poetry and art. The idea is built on the poetry of “erasure,” eliminating words from a piece of prose to expose the poem within. There’s also a nice interview.
You can see the entire book online here: http://www.blurb.com/books/5377678-sp... My stuff is on pages 13-21.

[Gabi]

I hadn't read your poem, "The Shirt". Funny and painful at once.
My niece, Rachael, has the job of seeing to the needs of her mother, my sister Cathy; she is now in a nursing home as her Parkinsons' takes away who and what she was. Her 70th Birthday was on 30th July. I didn't/couldn't send her a card, I don't know if she knows who I am anymore. She had a bad fall last month and fortunately the operation to mend her broken hip, worked. She has regular physio including swimming, so her bones are good. The broken hip can still be the route to the cemetary, even these days.

I send E-cards to her via her daughters email, which I am told she likes. Living in Queensland, we used to visit her regularly to see to various things she might need. Now Trev can't drive to Sydney - he falls asleep!

Your work is comfort to me, Ruth. Thank you.
Gabi

[Carol]

Gabi sorry to hear about your sister. Ruth , my android won't let me access the link, because it doesn't support adobe flash. I will try and have a look see tomorrow on the laptop. I do enjoy your poems.

[Ken, Moderator]

Beautiful!

[Ruth]

Gabi wrote: "I hadn't read your poem, "The Shirt". Funny and painful at once.
My niece, Rachael, has the job of seeing to the needs of her mother, my sister Cathy; she is now in a nursing home as her Parkinso..."

You should like my next book, Gabi. It's called No Longer at This Address and it's full of poems about my mother and her dementia.

BTW, my mother had dementia/Alzheimer's and my father had Parkinson's. Parkinson's hardly ever affects the mind.

[Ruth]

Thanks, NE. And Carol, do come back when you can see it. It's a very small book, and you can read the whole thing online as a PDF.

[Gabi]

Does severe depression count?

[Ruth]

Bonespark features me on 2sday Poems. Memories Suspended by Filaments, a visual poem, The End and the Aim, and some notes about my books. Take a look. https://bonesparkblog.wordpress.com/t...

[Ruth]

Reading in Redlands, my old home town. Hope to see old and new Inland Empire friends.

[Carol]

I hope so. It sounds like fun.

[Gabi]

Congrats, Ruth! So pleased for you!

[Ruth]

It's been a week and I haven't reported. The Redlands reading was one of my very best.(I'm such a ham.) Lots of old friends showed up. It was SRO. Great audience, too. Audiences have collective personalities and this one was warm, welcoming and fun. Here's a link to an article. Scroll down to find me. http://writestone.com/2014/08/23/poet...

[Carol]

Where's the like button. Happy it was a success.

[Gabi]

Look at them - just loving it! I suspect some of the subjects of your poems rang a few bells.

Onya, Ruth!

[Ruth]

Don't know if I've mentioned this here before. Rattle editor Tim Green discusses my poem, Elegy for My 1958 Volkswagen in his article on how he chooses poems to publish in Rattle. It appears in Inlandia Literary Journeys.

http://localauthors.pe.com/poetry/poe...

[Gabi]

Kudos! Kudos! Kudos! How absolutely marvellous! Bouquets and Encores to you Ruth, my friend.

Dear God, Girl, I'd be painting your laid back little heads-up on my neighbors fences, were I you.

Are you fizzing over? Do you agree with him! I do, all your poems have that kick in them; most of the time I can't pick out the why, I just know that something grabbed me!

I am so proud of you!
Hugs, Gabi

[Carol]

Yay! My sentiments also , Gabi.

[Ruth]

My poem Oranges and Pomegranates is online now as part of Silver Birch Press's Where I Live Poetry & Photography Series. It's a poem I wrote several years ago. The landscape of Southern California seeps into many of my poems. I can't keep it out. This poem is included in my book, Embers on the Stairs

Find it as entry for Feb 5.

https://silverbirchpress.wordpress.com/

[Gabi]

Hi, Ruth. I liked it. I like all your stuff. I am glad for your talent to be so available to read. Thank you.

[Ruth]

Thanks, Gabi. We have eucalyptus in common, don't we.

[Gabi]

Boy, do we!

[Ken, Moderator]

I have this wunnerful book by this wunnerful poet. Good. Stuff.

[Ruth]

Just found these. I guess I missed any notification from Ilya's Honey that they'd gone live.

The first is about what I can do. The second notes my abysmal failure at becoming bilingual.

Shinnying up my Life http://www.illyashoney.com/A55656/ih....

I Love You, Where Are You, Let’s Go to Bed
http://www.illyashoney.com/A55656/ih....

[Gabi]

What else can you do? Anything at all that takes your fancy, thats what!

When it comes to languages - you have the important phrases down pat, my dear.

Giggle!

[Ruth]

Gabi wrote: "What else can you do? Anything at all that takes your fancy, thats what!

When it comes to languages - you have the important phrases down pat, my dear.

Giggle!"

The other most important phrases are "What does this cost?" and "Where is the bathroom?"

[Ruth]

What do I think of men in bed? My poem in Fox Adoption Magazine.

http://foxadoptionmag.org/poetry/men-...

[Ruth]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tj7vo...

[Ruth]

The shootings in San Bernardino have made me acutely aware of how much more an event affects me when I’m familiar with either the place or the people involved. I know a tragedy in a small town in Africa is every bit as awful, and deserving of my attention as one in SoCal, but there isn’t as much of a shiver of connection running down my spine. I lived for 15 years in San Bernardino. I know that city. I know what it was, a sturdy blue-collar place with a small town atmosphere. I know what it is now, broke and broken. Its formerly nice shopping districts lined with boarded-up stores, bars and pawnshops, its fading housing tracts riddled with drugs. And now this.

When I divorced and remarried I moved to Redlands, where I lived for over 30 years. Every time I drove the car to the mechanic, I passed the apartment where the shooters had assembled a mini arsenal. I’ll never think of that part of town again without a twinge.

I’m hoping a poem will be born from this, but I’m not pregnant yet.