World Poetry Celebrates Trish Hopkinson from Utah!

 

Ariadne’s News! A wonderful World Poetry Café radio show with two great guests on October 19, 1-2 pm PST. First up: Trish Hopkinson with advice on contests, tips for youth poets and how her popular blog came into being.  She answered a poet’s question about spending around $500 dollars total on submissions fees and did not receive any acknowledgement from any of them. We hope to have Trish back again! A must hear show below:

LISTEN HERE! This is for last week’s show. Hopefully we can retrieve the current show from the station.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Trish Hopkinson has always loved words in fact, her mother tells everyone she was born with a pen in her hand. A Pushcart nominated poet, she is author of three chapbooks and has been published in several anthologies and journals, including Stirring, Pretty Owl Poetry, and The Penn Review. She is a product director by profession and resides in Utah with her handsome husband and their two outstanding children. You can follow Hopkinson on her blog where she shares information on how to write, publish, and participate in the greater poetry community at http://trishhopkinson.com/  Tips for publishing , contests and more! 

A Way In

for Amiri Baraka

 

As involved and still

as looking inward. Loudly

closing all the shutters at once.

 

Evening: sarcasm blocks

my window view

of the garden.

Scarcities

 

of light. The shadows. The

irregular flickers. Like old

flashbulbs on the red carpet, cold

and electric. There is no silence,

John Cage says . . . Just the tones

of nervous system operation

& blood circulation.

 

My throat wants to shout

out at this tangible reality.

 

Although, (standing upright in thin

atmosphere from shut windows; all

the answers falling to the floor,

till your feet are bruised & knee deep in)

Although, sunlight will edge between cracks

& in warm strips of faith, of truth.

 

There are glorious murals of lilies

on the wainscot

in the dollhouse. The dolls

sit still all day. In blue

dawn & morning dew.

 

Church bells, like the good

book in the nightstand, anchored in the drawer.

The lamb and the crucifix, a vision

with an ending.

 

I am satisfied. Pausing

in this moment, staying still,

waiting to pass this old age, the

mortal pain of body; sloughed off . . .

Like newborn field mice;

shivering in the nest,

until the unknowing

boot heel crushes their bones.

Use up the ugly

expanses, with full lungs

primed. Harmless lift

of human dreams. A prophet’s

transformation.

 

Crumpling into the dirt, worms

writhing on lips. Wood

and hinges sealing the box.

 

Awakened. Convoluted

and looking inward. I evaporate.

” (This is the first poem in my recently published chapbook Footnote)”

Trish Hopkinson (C) All rights reserved.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *