(Just joining the hop? Check out this post for prizes, how to enter, and who else is haunting!)
Today's Spotlight is on...
"My crow leaps in a sudden sweep of wing and sails past, the scent of his feathers a balm to a soon-broken soul."
This volume opens with a piece that leaves the reader wondering: Is the speaker victim or victor? Shadows can obscure the details that would cement our perceptions of individuals or events.
Sometimes, shadows tell us more than we want to know.
Shadows prevail in each of the poems in The Scent of his Feathers, but Krafton is not afraid of the dark. In this poetry collection, she explores the darkness that surrounds us, dimming the edges of our well-lit worlds. Themes of death, devotion, despair, and desperation are expressed in subtle shades, allowing the reader to determine their own definitions.
How a person interprets these pieces--a collection of tiny everyday deaths--will depend on the reader and the flavor of the shadows within that person’s heart. Join Krafton as she explores the inherent beauty of twilight. Sympathize with the shadows of a soul. Understand what drives a spirit to desperation. And remember: without darkness, there can be no light.
We live our lives surrounded by poetry...even when we can't see the words. Even those who can't quite say they read poetry are still affected the poetry that permeates our world. Song lyrics...memorable movie lines...that's all poetry. Really.
And we absorb it without even realizing.
When I was a kid, I memorized a lot of poetry. It wasn't the cool thing to do; in fact, I'm fairly certain my friends would have thought it was the least cool thing on the planet. (And we're talking back in the 80s. We put a LOT of emphasis on cool.)
Even uncooler was the fact that I was drawn to the shadowy side of poetry. In the 80s everything was neon and geometric and WHAM! and totally tubular...and there was me. Smuggling Stephen King into Girl Scout camp and carrying Poe around in my heart everywhere I went.
I loved poems such as "Sonnet: To Science", in which Poe villainizes science for preying upon the poet's heart and pretty much slaughtering fairy tales and daydreams forever. (And yet, I became a science major in college. Hmm.)
Even more haunting are these lines from Thebaid, written by the Roman poet Statius in the first century CE:
"Pleasant lives droop and fall, [Death] with his sword cuts through the [Fates'] threads, and hurries the stricken city to the shades."
Or this, from his Silvae:
"Lay aside thy fears [for the beloved dead], and be no more in dread of threatening [Death]."
As far as poetry goes, that's epic.
Maybe poetry was my way of paying heed to my heart, even if my brain made me choose a more practical path. That's the coolest thing about poetry--it's duality. You can be a poet without ever writing a word, if only you scratch the words upon your heart.
Enter in the October Frights Blog Hop giveaway by commenting on today's post...
...and here's what I'd love for you to share: a poem or song verse or a few poetic lines, something that is dear to you, words that are forever in your heart. Whether the words are your own or lovingly lent to you by another, share your favorite poetry with us!
And don't forget to pick up a copy of my dark poetry chapbook The Scent of His Feather, free on Kindle through October 5th!
Commented? Got your free book? Get back to the hop...pick your next lucky stop:
