| Author: | H.D. Greaves | ISBN: | 9781301233649 |
| Publisher: | H.D. Greaves | Publication: | August 14, 2013 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition | Language: | English |
| Author: | H.D. Greaves |
| ISBN: | 9781301233649 |
| Publisher: | H.D. Greaves |
| Publication: | August 14, 2013 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition |
| Language: | English |
Should you be sufficiently adventurous as to purchase this volume of poetry, I say “Thanks!” I hope you will enjoy at least some of my poems and disregard any that appear to you to have been written in what may be best described as an addled mental and emotional condition.
I do not now nor ever have written poetry with the intent of publication, but only for my personal enjoyment, be it cathartic to cleanse tragedy of its bile or whimsical to celebrate a comic vein. Consequently, you may find some of the poems whimsical and some cathartic without, of course, the addling of your mental or emotional condition.
Don Marquis, the poet whose wonderful creations, Archy the Cockroach and Mehitabel the Alley Cat, have given so much pleasure to so many people, wrote that, “Publishing a volume of poetry is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo.”
He was right, of course, and still is right, at least when it comes to publishing a volume of poetry the traditional way, that being with the help of a literary agent, an editor, and a publishing company.
However, with the invention of ebooks on the internet, all writers calling themselves poets can now inflict upon the public their work, be it good, grand, insufferably execrable, just plain bad, or (worst cut of all) indifferently mediocre.
The poems you will find in this volume may or may not be in all of the above states of siege, according to your taste and my talent. Written over several decades, and being now an old man, I have long since lost all objectivity about them, be they good, grand, bad, or indifferently mediocre.
As for why I decided to publish what I never intended to publish: over many years, my friends urged me to do this rash deed and, to please them, as well as curiosity about how my work will be received by strangers (well, badly, or ignored), here it is, to use a fine old cliché, warts and all.
Should you be sufficiently adventurous as to purchase this volume of poetry, I say “Thanks!” I hope you will enjoy at least some of my poems and disregard any that appear to you to have been written in what may be best described as an addled mental and emotional condition.
I do not now nor ever have written poetry with the intent of publication, but only for my personal enjoyment, be it cathartic to cleanse tragedy of its bile or whimsical to celebrate a comic vein. Consequently, you may find some of the poems whimsical and some cathartic without, of course, the addling of your mental or emotional condition.
Don Marquis, the poet whose wonderful creations, Archy the Cockroach and Mehitabel the Alley Cat, have given so much pleasure to so many people, wrote that, “Publishing a volume of poetry is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo.”
He was right, of course, and still is right, at least when it comes to publishing a volume of poetry the traditional way, that being with the help of a literary agent, an editor, and a publishing company.
However, with the invention of ebooks on the internet, all writers calling themselves poets can now inflict upon the public their work, be it good, grand, insufferably execrable, just plain bad, or (worst cut of all) indifferently mediocre.
The poems you will find in this volume may or may not be in all of the above states of siege, according to your taste and my talent. Written over several decades, and being now an old man, I have long since lost all objectivity about them, be they good, grand, bad, or indifferently mediocre.
As for why I decided to publish what I never intended to publish: over many years, my friends urged me to do this rash deed and, to please them, as well as curiosity about how my work will be received by strangers (well, badly, or ignored), here it is, to use a fine old cliché, warts and all.
