C.E. Cannery's Blog, page 3

Hi folks! Here's the author interview for Victoria Liiv https://cecanneryauthorblog.wordpress...

I've had such great fun reading the author responses!

Hey folks!

So here's the first author interview!

https://cecanneryauthorblog.wordpress...

Let me know what you think on the format!

So, to be honest, this was a bit of a random addition to my blog. I just did one with another author, and I found it kind of fun, so I made one myself.

*I don't really have a lot of followers, so it's more of a fun thing than anything serious.

**I don't require you to follow me or anything, just comment on the last author interview (to give them exposure). (But since there is not yet one on there, you don't have to do anything.)

So if this sounds like something you're interested in then, send me an email on here (the arrow next to the follow button) and I'll send the questions.

Mind though that I only want to interview fantasy/sci-fi indie writers.

Thanks for reading!

(This poem is kind of from the point of view of a tree but also of a viewer. I wrote this a couple of years ago when I saw that all the trees in the park outside my window had been suddenly cut down.)


How lonely a view,

does such a pale morning bring,

that such shapes of nought,

came to the fro,

that all that’s lost,

is,

and no amount of night,

no amount of dreaming,

shall bring back the view,

that just one yesterday’s long was mine,

and me thought mine for ever long as I was here,

never would I thought those whispers would cease,

never would I thought the wind would go bare,

to rush and roam,

with no companion to dance along side,

where are the winter twigs that would sway and foam,

like so many bubbles glittering under the ocean’s view at noontide?

Where is that pearly mist that so oft greeted me,

reminded me of home?

Tell me, where now shall I let my eyes to roam?

Where none now is hidden, no mystery to solve?

What a barren view, a lack lustre hearth,

and for what?

Such a wonton death doesn’t suit the majesty of those that danced beside the wind.

Cut like empty logs. Hollow. Devoid of meaning.

But their whispers danced me to sleep and the sounds of their comrades, the wakeful robin roused the morning.

How now shall I wake, but to the distant mourning?

That one of silence.

No rustle will be heard to now,

no helpful bird calling,

I’m all awake now,

all sour with this barren view,

such a ponderous sight now,

all heavy with nothing,

all heavy with what was once there,

with what was once here,

but now I wake,

and the horrid forms of night,

that only just but intimated such a thought,

have shapened into nought.

I am alone now.

No more waving from my greenest of trees.

No more breathing in their calls of sweeting.

I am alone, with such a lonely view,

one stout captain, with no such crew.

https://cecanneryauthorblog.wordpress...

(This poem is kind of from the point of view of a tree but also of a viewer. I wrote this a couple of years ago when I saw that all the trees in the park outside my window had been suddenly cut down.)


How lonely a view,

does such a pale morning bring,

that such shapes of nought,

came to the fro,

that all that’s lost,

is,

and no amount of night,

no amount of dreaming,

shall bring back the view,

that just one yesterday’s long was mine,

and me thought mine for ever long as I was here,

never would I thought those whispers would cease,

never would I thought the wind would go bare,

to rush and roam,

with no companion to dance along side,

where are the winter twigs that would sway and foam,

like so many bubbles glittering under the ocean’s view at noontide?

Where is that pearly mist that so oft greeted me,

reminded me of home?

Tell me, where now shall I let my eyes to roam?

Where none now is hidden, no mystery to solve?

What a barren view, a lack lustre hearth,

and for what?

Such a wonton death doesn’t suit the majesty of those that danced beside the wind.

Cut like empty logs. Hollow. Devoid of meaning.

But their whispers danced me to sleep and the sounds of their comrades, the wakeful robin roused the morning.

How now shall I wake, but to the distant mourning?

That one of silence.

No rustle will be heard to now,

no helpful bird calling,

I’m all awake now,

all sour with this barren view,

such a ponderous sight now,

all heavy with nothing,

all heavy with what was once there,

with what was once here,

but now I wake,

and the horrid forms of night,

that only just but intimated such a thought,

have shapened into nought.

I am alone now.

No more waving from my greenest of trees.

No more breathing in their calls of sweeting.

I am alone, with such a lonely view,

one stout captain, with no such crew.

https://cecanneryauthorblog.wordpress...

(Hi folks! I'm not a professional poet or anything, but I thought I'd just post some poems here.)

This is a new poem called, "Beautiful Rest."

__________

I just want to fall to beautiful rest,

like the dew upon its petals,

or the sun to its sea,

and bite into dreams,

as ripe as the meadows,

or as springy as the creme,

where all thoughts lay,

like jewels sewn to the shade,

like you, people, all bright,

like flames, like wights,

beguiling with remembrances—

what it was to hear laughter,

like shadows of smoke,

or to smile til tears glinted,

or to burn with rage,

just to forgive and begin again,

but all that is lost now.

The sun rises alone,

and hears only the chatter of gulls,

luring him to the restful sea.

Hi all!

I'm just here to let you all know that Maygest's Tale will be free starting this Thursday (24/03) and ending this Monday.

Hope you enjoy!

C. E. Cannery