Featuring 30 poems written during the global pandemic, this eclectic collection from international authors shares the humour, the frustrations, the loves, and the loss that we all have experienced.
– Paddler Press
I love it when an editor brings writers together and creates something special. I believe that is what Deryck Robertson has done with The Covid Verses. My poem Starving Overtime has graciously included in this collection that stands a testament to the world’s shared grief, pain, and fear. It may have been a dark two years for many, but it’s not a time we should forget, lest we fail to learn from our experiences.
This collaborative chapbook is available in print from Paddler Press. Please consider picking up your own copy to support this great Canadian Small Press.
He didn’t say we wouldn’t weep while we waited. He didn’t say feeding the lantern’s flame, wouldn’t singe. He didn’t promise, finding oil would be easy. Only “Be ready,” and the Spirit will with you sit.
I have been waiting with great anticipation to be able to share this publication. Heart of Flesh Literary journal is a publication I have been following since the beginning of my writing career, and they have been a dream publication for me.
This last week Issue Seven went live! My poems “Omnipresent” and “Things Made” have been included in this issue and I pray they bless you. They are available to read for free, accompanied by audio readings.
Like a splinter in the foot you just can’t seem to see, is the pain within a heart filled with anxiety. No one else can see pain that you now feel. Often times you ask if it’s even truly real. Walk about your day, the prick will stab with pain. Balancing the wound becomes a dripping drain. Energy is lost, focus on protect. Friendships pays the cost, when attention you deflect. How to remove a shard that can’t be seen? First admit, discard pretending’s screen. Allow a probing look. A gentle searching poke. Trust someone who knows, this pain in not a joke. Often it may feel like a bandage ripped away. The sting, it may endure well into your day. But, pain of healing hands is worth a season’s rest. It’s a pain that’s bearable when into tears it’s pressed. Gentle words may pinch, a tweezers searching bite. And tears can wash away, splinters and their bite.