Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur

milk

source: purchased
title: Milk and Honey
author: Rupi Kaur/Twitter
genre: poetry
published: 2014
pages: 204
rated: 4 out of 5 stars
1blustar1blustar1blustar1blustar

blurb:
#1 New York Times bestseller Milk and Honey is a collection of poetry and prose about survival. About the experience of violence, abuse, love, loss, and femininity.

The book is divided into four chapters, and each chapter serves a different purpose. Deals with a different pain. Heals a different heartache. Milk and Honey takes readers through a journey of the most bitter moments in life and finds sweetness in them because there is sweetness everywhere if you are just willing to look.

my thoughts:
I went to Barnes & Noble with my daughter recently. I love our trips to the bookstore and library because she tends to find really interesting books. We didn’t have anything particular in mind when we went, just stopping to browse on a Saturday morning while out running errands. After a little while, she came up to me with a copy of Milk and Honey and said “Mom, I’ve heard so much about this one. I want to read it.”
She read it first and she would come and read passages to me that she liked.

it must hurt to know
I am your most
beautiful
regret
p.94, Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur

I read Milk and Honey afterwards in one sitting. This is a collection of moving poetry by Rupi Kaur. There are sketches by the author with some of the poems. The book is separated into four parts, the hurting, the loving, the breaking and the healing. There are themes of abuse, heartache, family, finding oneself and healing within these poems.

Continue reading

Advertisements

Blog Tour: Poetry and Ponderings by Diamante Lavendar

Hello everyone. Please join me in welcoming Diamante Lavendar author of Poetry and Ponderings as she stops in today to chat about the writing process….

poetry

I have always been an off the cuff type of writer. I am inspired much of the time by spirit. I have fostered a relationship with the spirit world that can only be described as finding meaning and truth derived from difficulty. This meaning and truth then becomes embedded in my heart and soul. When I sit down to write, words come into my head and I put them on paper. It is easy for me to type them but difficult to hold their meaning. The reason why it is difficult is because my life is my muse. And many times not in a happy way. I have been through much turmoil and agony. I believe I came here for spiritual graduate work and I got what I came here for. It has been grueling but also eye opening and inspirational at the same time if that makes any sense. I have found that the harshest reality can bring the greatest spiritual revelations. This has been the course of my life.

Continue reading

Pablo Neruda: If You Forget Me

IMG_8315 (640x511)

Pablo Neruda breaks my heart in the best way. I can’t pick a favorite, but If You Forget Me is up there. His work is best read in Spanish as he wrote it, there is something that gets lost in translation but the work is still beautiful nonetheless in English. He evokes emotion with his words and I dip into my little Neruda collection from time to time just to savor it.

everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
-read the poem in its entirety here

What do you think of this one?

April is National Poetry Month, follow this link for more.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

disclaimer:
The photo above is my own and is not to be removed from this post.

Killing The Love

IMG_8434 (640x427)

Seeing how April is National Poetry Month, I wanted to share a few of my favorite poems these few weeks.  I like Anne Sexton so much because her poetry is so raw. She put it all out there and there is something to be said for that. Her poems are passionate and intense.

A snippet from a favorite of hers called “Killing the Love”. 

I am the love killer,
I am murdering the music we thought so special,
that blazed between us, over and over.
I am murdering me, where I kneeled at your kiss.
I am pushing knives through the hands
that created two into one.
Our hands do not bleed at this,
they lie still in their dishonor….

Read the poem in its entirety here: https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/killing-the-love/

What do you think of this one? Do you have a favorite Anne Sexton poem, or a favorite by another poet?

Thanks for stopping by, enjoy your day.

++++++++++++++++++++++
disclaimer:
The photo above is my own and not to be removed from this post.

Book Tour: WTF by Laura Foley

wtffoley
source: Free review copy courtesy of Poetic Book Tours
title: WTF
author: Laura Foley
genre: poetry
published: 2017
pages: 29
first line: The night before his imprisonment….

Blurb:
Laura Foley’s “WTF” refers to her father’s initials and, slyly, to the abbreviated colloquial exclamation, in a pun that laughs and cuts, in this reckoning with a fraught father-daughter relationship. These spare poems communicate more like snapshots than narrative lyrics, beginning with sympathy and gratitude, moving through disappointment, anger and resentment, without ever losing compassion, as Foley examines her father’s formative WWII experiences and, consequently, how he shaped her experience and character, ending with a positive recognition of her father in herself.

Read some sample poems here: https://www.readcwbooks.com/foley_poems.html

My thoughts:
I enjoy reading poetry very much and as soon as I saw the blurb and title for WTF by Laura Foley it caught my attention. “WTF” are her father’s initials, William Thomas Foley, and she wrote this collection in his memory. WTF was a WWII vet and most of the twenty poems here reflect on this. A few of the poems are about his being a POW, about playing cards with him and about her parents getting divorced.

Born twelve years later, I learn
for him the war is never over.
-WTF by Laura Foley

This is a quiet collection and poetry comes from the heart, the best kind I think comes from heartache and I felt that in this set.

Continue reading