Lucy Harvest Clarke's poems move subtly between the world at hand and her own secret world. Armed with a mix of delicate rhythms and arresting variations, each poem feels mysterious, like an unexplained magic trick, always keeping the audience guessing. A Light Worker is a compelling, enigmatic collection which rewards repeated reading.

Lucy Harvest Clarke's poems move subtly between the world at hand and her own secret world. Armed with a mix of delicate rhythms and arresting variations, each poem feels mysterious, like an unexplained magic trick, always keeping the audience guessing. A Light Worker is a compelling, enigmatic collection which rewards repeated reading.

A Collection Of Poems.

Poems Of Sublimated Emotions And Modern Issues.

Bill Overmyer drove in military convoys as a contract driver for five years in Iraq. Over The Road Truck Driver Poems is his latest work. These poems highlight the daily trials and tribulations of over the road truck drivers around the world. Bill currently works in the North Dakota oil fields.

A Collection Of Poems.

As long as I can remember, I have been prisoner to poetry. Words have captured my heart and forced me to tally them into forms that inspire and teach. In the beginning poetry was not words, at least not in my world, but the essence of life's synchronicities all laid out in balance and tranquility. As a little girl I was mesmerized by the chain of events called 'life'. At a very young age I craved for experiences, deeper experiences with deeper meanings. I would write, what I now know as poetry, on little scraps of paper, in the inside cover of books, in the palm of my hands or wherever I could find space to write. There was something sacred and subtle within me that had chosen me to release it and that something was poetry, raw and undefined, until I freed it on paper or wherever. I grew up in a small rural town in southern Missouri where life was simple and screen doors clapped. My maternal grandparents owned an eighty acre farm consisting of rolling hills, forests heavy with lush trees, valleys and lakes where my grandmother took me fishing. This magical place is where I fell in love with life at a tender age. The smell of strawberries, honeysuckle, apples and such, coming from the garden where fruit and vegetables took their roots were nurturing to a little girl's psych. Whenever I visited my grandparents, the excitement that rose in my solar plexus began as soon as we turned the bend of the narrow winding clay dirt road that led us across the rickety bridge on into the front yard where the scent and beauty of wildflowers greeted us. On the front porch hung a wooden swing situated in front of my grandparents' bedroom window. For hours I would sit in that swing and swing back and forth for hours as I read books and watched the mountain lions roam on top of the hills. I somehow felt connected to them. Fearing them never crossed my little innocent mind. It has been said that all children are clairvoyant and I was certainly not an exception. I have always, still to this day, felt akin to the mysterious unexplainable. When I was young and confronted with societal viewpoints, I would question why. Why should I believe that if it does not resonate with my soul? This was my stance at an early age. Unbeknownst, I would later discover that this was not readily acceptable in my culture or the world. You believe whatever you was told because everybody else does is the brick wall I kept running into. But I did not want to. So I escaped the norm, the status quo, through books that took me to places I had never heard of. I wanted to know how others in other parts of the world, outside of my rural dwelling, felt about life, love, hate; and I wanted to know how they thought, dance, made love and why we all cry sometimes. I wanted to fall in love with God because everything I love; such as nature, beauty, kindness, was connected to God. I wanted to know God and love Him. As I embarked on my lone journey to find God I found God in me, with me, animating me. I discovered that I had never left him nor he left me. I came to understand that what we called God was much more infinite than I had been taught and much more kinder as I came to understand that I was a reflection of God as well as everyone I had ever met or would ever meet. Nazeelah Noorjahan, DM Metaphysical Poetess