Review Of Stephen B. Wileys First Book Of Poetry: HERO ISLAND
Poet Stephen B. Wiley's first book of poetry, Hero Island, reflects tender snapshots and reminiscent overviews of various stages of his life as a youngster working on a farm in New Jersey, summer vacations spent with his family in Northern Vermont, and his positive stance on life.
His elegant command of language magically explores and brings to life such varied topics as the shovel we are reluctant to part with, city living, opening up of the summer cottage, shucking corn, Albert Einstein and world federation, and the more weighty experience as the death of a loved one.All are composed with a great deal of introspection and with a sincere palette of words that are easily accessible to even the inexperienced poetry reader.
Particularly touching and one that struck home is "Going," where Wiley portrays the passing away of his ninety-four year old father-something I personally just recently experienced with the passing away of my father-in-law. The ending of the poem's unadorned spoken language poignantly describes his inner feelings:
"I knew father wouldn't die
I bent over his bed though
and we embraced with a kiss
as he was going."
Above all, Wiley's strength lies in that his poems are characterized by a sense of wonder and nostalgia with which he imbues his reflections, that is neither sad nor frustrated, as is often the case with so many poets.Moreover, descriptions are effortless and fresh, reverberating with vitality, as exemplified in the first two stanzas of his poem To My Hands:
"Yes, yes I do admire your solo work
how you throw a ball
write your name
tip you hat
And I'm proud that things are named for you
giving a helping hand
handing down your outgrown clothes
even handing over something you shouldn't have"
Quite noteworthy is Wiley's remarkable skill with language, perhaps attributable to his legal training. When I interviewed him and asked him how had this affected his poetry writing, his succinct reply was "words are the subject matter of law - spoken words and written words - and precision of language is most important. Poetry draws on the same strengths." That just about sums up the poetic style of Stephen B. Wiley.
Although, I must admit that I initially opened Wiley's book of poems with some trepidation, my only grumble, when reaching the last poem, was that I did not have enough of it. It is my hope that Hero Island only marks the inauguration of a long and creative career.
Norm Goldman is the Editor of the Book Reviewing sitehttp://www.bookpleasures.com and the travel site, http://www.sketchandtravel.com
Norm is also a travel writer and together with his artist wife, Lily, they meld words with art focusing on romantic and wedding destinations.
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A Case of The Fears
Chicken Soup is good for a coldSleep is good for the FluWhen I get a case of the FearsWhat is a person to do?It is not bacteriaAlthough it can eat away my soulIt is not a virusYet, it can keep me from feeling wholeI know what will do the trick,What will put me back on top,A great big bowl of Ice CreamWill really hit the spotThat was great and now I am doneOne bowl just won't doIf one is good, then more is greatAnd now I have eaten two.Bowls three, four, five and sixCame and then they wentI think my case of the fears are fixedLook at how my time was spentI am getting sleepyIt is time to go to bedMy fears are no longer in my stomachNow they are in my headI close my eyes and I can seeThe Fears I want to killI will do, whatever it takesTo keep the monsters still.
Rules for Writing Poetry
You've been writing poetry since that first assignment in your high school writing class. You know the rules about writing poetry, right? Are there rules? Well, if you frequent the poetry forums across the Internet as much as I do, you'd find that there are a lot of amateur poets who adamantly declare that there are no rules for writing poetry and if someone even suggests reading poetry or books on poetry, many of the amateur poets will throw up a defensive front.
Two Poems with Triggers [and a commentary]
So Many Einstein'sThe morning mist, insists there is a God.The earth remains faithful to its orbit.
Five Mixed Poems, with Notes [now is Spanish and English]
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Breathing-in, Minnesota [a poem: now in Spanish and English]
In early fall, in Minnesota, the rain falls, falls, In buckets, buckets and more buckets-: dropsLikened to music from its many streams-landOf ten-thousand lakes; moistened gravel, gravelEverywhere?Grandpa sits on the porch-daydreaming of, ofSomething, perhaps winter around the corner-;As the flies disappear, with the mosquitoes?Leaves will soon vanish, shadows will come earlyMaybe he's thinking about summer: miles and milesAnd miles and miles of cornfields; his childhood nowLong gone, he hums a hymn, a song; looking at theMetal-piped fence, he made, with three poles, on theEmbankment, leading up the steps to the porch;It's worn-out like him.The winds in Minnesota smell fresh, fresh from allThe foliage, there's a lot of it.
Two Poems and an Analysis ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']
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San Francisco [Almost a Sonnet]
(The city by the bay of Northern California, near which the Pacific Ocean resides; the year is 1967)Mid October seemed like some spring day,When through the poised waters, dry as lead, The ferry, like vague shadows that stand the dead,Slipped down the curved coast of Frisco bay,Rounded the Golden Gate,-and San Francisco lay,Before me, that gay city, pink and red,Hippies covered Haigh Asbury's homeless head,-My home, to be, I found stirring and grey.The waves busted on the wooden-sides; fishermenNearby with long necks, looked and cast again.
Mechanical Poetry
Do you ever stare at the paper, waiting for poetic inspiration? Well, you can stop waiting and start using systematic techniques for creating poetry. If it seems too mechanical or artificial at first, don't worry.
The Goat and the Rope [a Poem: in Spanish and English]
The Goat and the Ropewhere there were devils I saw none.nothing.
Learn About Love From Poet Rumi
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Eds Poem
Ed Gallagher Dec. 11, 1907 - Sept.
Three Poems (While in Transition/English and Spanish)
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I Saw the Universe
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Hindu Poet - Kamalakanta
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A Hundred and Fifty Dead [Korean War--l952]
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Robert Burns Love Poem: A Red, Red Rose
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Key Largo - Frater Albertus
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The Last King of Mars [A Poetic Mytho]
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A Happiness Poem
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