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Tag: Passion

After the Rain book reviews

My poetry book, After the Rain, has had its first two reviews! 🙂

After the Rain

Here is Diane Denton’s review from Goodreads.

~

I’ve been following Martin Shone’s blog, taken pleasure, been reassured and inspired by his poetry for many years. I keep his first two collections close by and often pick them up to randomly open and be guided by as I might my Little Zen Companion. I expected After the Rain to be as companionably soothing, sensory and enlightening. And so it is, once more inhaling and exhaling poetry in caressing arrangements of words, light as a feather while defying gravity, rising out of Martin’s intuitive observations and perceptive reflections, as well as his experience, imagination and belief that, as I wrote in my review of his Silence Happens, “beauty, peace and love are always available”.

Just a few pages into After the Rain, I had to stop and take a deep breath before reading further—for the best of reasons. I realized I was witnessing a favorite poet’s maturing, strengthening, and deepening. He was still offering the music of his soul for me to “sing along”, but, also, a new complexity of rhythms, sounds and understanding. Without losing any of his writing’s freshness and delicacy, his lyrical musings had become more inspired and inspiring, confident and courageous, distinct and layered: within its slender whole/there are worlds within worlds within worlds (Worlds Within Worlds, Page 118). Another of the poems (As a Leaf Falls, page 92) could well describe the effect of reading After the Rain: As it falls/and as it nears/a speck of shadow/can be seen/increasing in size/upon the earth/ and when it settles/shadowless/it frees light.

It frees light. Martin’s poetry frees light, like a leaf falling, like many leaves falling, floating, spiraling, influencing shadows as it offers different views of brilliance. It illuminates life’s branches reaching inside and out, up and down, strong and willowy and broken, and is another sound in nature, as delicate as the finest silk, a cacophony of such minuteness, that settles upon all things (Upon All Things, Page 39), begging us, as nature does, to return to tree’s soul/to nourish new life/buds of peace/to shine/to release/and to soak/for us to live and breathe.

Martin’s poetry often reminds me of that of the Victorian poetess Christina Rossetti, because of its inclination to let nature—weather, birds, insects, flowers, trees—direct its metaphors and meaning. There are so many poems in this collection that stood out as favorites for me, but the one that I return to more than any other is As Bluebells Distract My Mind (Page 57), too long to quote in full here, so I offer its last two lines:

How can I write anything to compare with this magic
therefore I regard the distractions around me and put down my pen
.

After the Rain offers a sublime invitation to live and breathe through all the senses, contemplation, conscience, the heart’s joys and sorrow, spiritual reflection, and, especially, magical distraction, which is, after all, the poet’s best muse and his audience’s best reason for attending to what he creates.

~

Here is Mary Beddows’s review

Beautifully written, and very powerful. I was given this book as a gift, and thoroughly enjoyed delving into its wonderful contents. After a stressful day, I open it and find peace. I highly recommend giving it a try!

~

Diane is an author and artist. Two of her published works are A House Near Luccoli and To A Strange Somewhere Fled. Her latest work to be published very soon is Without the Veil Between. Anne Bronte: A Fine and Subtle Spirit.

After the Rain is available from Lulu, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon. It contains over 100 poems of Love, Nature, Humanity, Romance and Passion.

After the Rain

Thank you all for reading 🙂

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Freedom comes from loving what is

I believe
in the something within us

I believe
we can be better than yesterday

I believe
pain comes when it is needed

I believe
in the realization of being

I believe
another word for peace is chaos

I believe
chaos is another word struggle

I believe
we have yet to find the four corners of our jigsaw

I believe
in love’s natural state of naked awareness

I believe
the skin of age is equal to the trickle of knowledge

I believe
in the scent of passion

I believe
that one day, we shall accept our failings

I believe
freedom comes from loving what is

I believe
in you

Freedom

… feel
the temptation to seduce
and to be seduced

feel that tingle of slowness
surrounding your skin

inhale the moment
allow it to inhabit your beat

allow it to seduce your mind
into believing you are free

…  feel
your skin
and the moisture between your fingers

feel the slowness of time
kissing your soul

inhale and exhale
touch the essence of, passion

allow it to seduce you
allow it your freedom

… feel
the vibration of life
tremble inside your heart

between your fingers
your toes, your thighs, your

freedoms

A Power Omniscient

You are, my love
my love
Little do you know it
but you are, my love
my love
Little do I know it
but I am, my love
your love

for there is a power within us
a power without us
a power omniscient

for there is a time of darkness
a time of lightness
a time unrelenting

for there is a passion within us
a passion without us
a passion profound

for there is a strength of courage
a strength of weakness
a strength enlightened

for there is a fragility within us
a fragility without us
a fragility chaotic

for there is a feeling of real
a feeling of magic
a feeling primal

for there is a treasure within us
a treasure without us
a treasure omniscient

for you are, my love
my love
Little do you know it
but you are, my love
my love
Little do I know it
but I am, my love
your love

 

This is a shortened version of the poem I wrote in 2015

After the Rain

After the Rain

My book, After the Rain, is now available at Barnes & Noble, Lulu and Amazon for the price of ÂŁ7.50. The book contains over 100 poems of Love, Nature, Humanity, Romance and Passion.

Thank you for your continued support.

Sunshine

Candle flame
flickers a dance to kiss
the wax
and so bring sunshine within its cold
and there with the heat
the wax simply acquiesces and melts
forming patterns of flickered kisses
creating reflections, shadows and the breathings of time
and there with the heat
they coalesce into existence
to create silent flames of desire/passion/tenderness … life
deep within the empty
where only darkness rules
creating solitudes of silence where
the wax
is simply wax
waiting for sunshine
to dance within its soul

Ancient Virgin

The last book
found
amongst the littered remains
of a struggled past

a survivor
unread
unopened
an ancient virgin

devouring eyes
pore over

loving fingers
caress

pages flutter
with each delicious
touch

words drip
with each bacchanal
read

Overcome with
saviour’s emotion
the last book
found
crumbles
… crumbles
… … crumbles

no more books
no more pleasure
no more whispers
no more life
no more pain
no more love
no more joy
no more emotion
no more soul
no more words
no more imagination
no more passion
no more feelings
no more death
no more
… no more
… … no more

The last book
lost …

~

This was first posted here on September 5th 2011 (edited)

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