Dear Readers,
Thanks for getting Where the Butterflies Go on two Amazon Bestsellers Lists (Best selling Poetry>General and Best selling Poetry>Anthologies) ALL THE WAY TO #17 and #38! It’s #25 on the best-selling Anthologies list right now, and I know it can’t stay on either lists forever – but with Amazon’s great buy 4 books for the price of 3 sale, now’s the time to buy your favorite paperback books. Thanks again for giving me that wicked surprise yesterday. I appreciate your fantastic support.

Where The Years Go (Kayla in 2008)
How many hours of our lives are spent waiting?
Waiting for hot meals, for late buses,
for the phone call that could make or break our day.
Waiting for the right opportunity,
the right person, the green light.
Waiting for planes and trains,
for good news and bad;
to catch a quick hug at a wedding;
give a final goodbye at a grave side.
I will not count the waiting hours,
or resent them, or will them away.
I wish to embrace them more fully,
like the seconds before a first kiss,
first snowfall,
baby’s first breath.
The waiting hours led me to you.
They will lead us on
down the winding path
into our next right moment.

Embracing Dawn copyright Heather Grace Stewart
Posted for the wonderful, weekly Open Link Night at http://dversepoets.com Join us for a day and night of poetry discussion, sharing & networking!

Sunrise Over the Rockies copyright Heather Grace Stewart
Take a deep breath.
No, deeper than that.
Feel it. Embrace it.
Breathe out.
Don’t let the noise of life
get in the way
of living.
Every morning, I’m given a fresh start. The gift of a new day. I can see the sunrise, feel the wind on my face, hear the one I love saying my name. I can make today matter.

Every morning, I'm given a fresh start. The gift of a new day. I can see the sunrise, feel the wind on my face, hear the one I love saying my name. I can make today matter. ~Heather Grace Stewart
When I’m missing you, I walk to the river’s edge. Frozen or free-flowing, it soothes me;
sends me back to our small adventures. Stargazing. Fireflies. All-day swimming.
Long goodbyes. No matter how cold it is outside, our summers warm me,
and we’re together again.

Winter walk copyright Heather Grace Stewart
Posted for tonight’s dVerse poets Open Link Night http://dversepoets.com/ come join us!
Hi everyone! Happy New Year. ! It’s been a great but busy start to 2012. Here’s an update:
NOOK BOOKS
You’ve been ‘Liking,’ reviewing and reading my books Where the Butterflies Go and Leap on Lulu, Amazon, iBooks, and now on the Nook! Can I tell you how exciting it is to see you finding these books in all these places? The Nook! The Nook! A little time was all it took
Please please please review and rate the books after you read them – even one line and those little yellow stars or thumbs-up helps other readers decide if they should even just download a sample. Every little click helps.
I now have sound files of my poetry readings easily accessible on a page via my Facebook page. Please Check it out!
http://api.soundcloud.com/users/10556407 << Heather’s Spoken Word Clips
And if you didn’t catch my video clip of my Oct. 1st bookstore reading, here it is again:
http://heathergracestewart.com/2011/10/19/my-oct-1st-bookstore-reading-via-vimeo/
HOSANNA CHILDREN’S HOME
‘The Groovy Granny’ has made its way to rural Kenya to a children’s home for orphaned and needy children. I learned about the Canadian charity Hearts for Change through my writing for the Queen’s Alumni Review magazine. It didn’t take long into my conversation with VP Jenny Caldwell to realize I wanted to donate some of the proceeds from book sales of Leap and Where the Butterflies Go to this incredible organization. I also sent them the book so that they could read it to the children when they visited before Christmas. Jenny sent me some photos from their visit just last week. Those children’s wide smiles are enough to convince me I need to write another rhyming children’s book soon!
THE CANADIAN LEAGUE OF POETS SHOW
In mid-December I was invited to read with other members of The League of Canadian Poets at a special benefit performance and party all rolled into one. It was so much fun, and besides, hubby and I had a great excuse to go out on a date before the show. Mmm…Thai Food
It was wonderful to see old writer friends and meet new ones. I’m hoping to use the same venue -Casa Del Popolo cafe-bar and performance space on Blvd. St. Laurent – for my launch party for Carry On Dancing in mid-April 2012. Stay tuned!
THE COUNT DOWN
Carry On Dancing will be out in March 2012! Not long now. I’m excited. Are you excited? We should get excited. Get up and dance!
Or, maybe just tell someone
or Tweet about my upcoming book release. There are links at the bottom of the page for sharing information about my publisher and my book and its early reviews with others on Facebook, Twitter, Linked IN, and more. That’d be swell
Thanks so much!
Finally, thanks for being a regular reader of this blog. There’s a lot of traffic out there. I appreciate you crossing through it all to visit me.
Hugs,
Heather

The Groovy Granny made its way to children at Hosanna Children's Home in Kenya through Hearts for Change http://heartsforchange.ca
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
The concert hall at the Syndey Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 55,000 times in 2011. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 20 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.
Where the Butterflies Go Review in iBOOKS (four stars): ‘These poems are like a key’
‘A willful and successful destruction of boundaries’ **** (4 stars)
by Shawn Halayka, Dec. 24, 2011 under Where the Butterflies Go in iBOOKS
Anima and animus. Love and sorrow. Past and present. An array of dualities are presented to us in these poems, accurately depicting both the beauty and horror of life at the same time in a masterful way that gives no ground to useless pretense or extraneous detail. Most importantly to me, these dualities are not presented as paradoxical or contradictory, but rather wholly integrated. The end result is quite illuminating.
What really hit home for me were the poems about Challenger/Columbia and the tragedy of Di. These specific poems are deceptively short — it may have only taken a few minutes to read them, but then it took me much longer to process the resulting flood of memories related to my own childhood and young adulthood. These poems are like a key, and one’s own life is the vault.
I can only assume that some sort of fancy voodoo magic was implemented by the author, because I am fully enchanted by these poems. Superb work, as usual.

In a café
secluded and warm
time curls slowly
like smoke circles
and dances in the amber rays
of Tiffany lamps
lit mystically low
while sounds dim to a murmur
inviting faces at the window.
Outside beneath the frosted streetlamps
snowflakes hang in lonely sheets
and scurry from the fierce white light
while traffic roars and people rush
to get to where ever
they don’t want to go.
In a café
in the space before a painting
muffled voices chattering dishes
conversations I half hear
but the aromatics of this place:
coffee beans freshly ground
newsprint danishes perfume
and the after sense of you—
these stay with me.
from the collection
This gallery contains 2 photos.
from the collection Where the Butterflies Go Arms laid to rest, Peace on the way; Every child, a place to play— Herald that day. Waters clean flowing, Fears swept away; Freedom for all— Herald that day. Hatred abolished, Dreams what we may; Christmas harbored in our hearts— Herald that day.
This gallery contains 2 photos.
Once upon a time in the social network race you and I met in Cyberspace. Divided by lines: longitude, latitude; we’ve typed and texted tears, gratitude. Now we’re closer than neighbors; in tune like a song. (and your dog never leaves doodoo on my lawn.) Some say it’s not real. How can it be? How [...]
When I write, “until the day I found a way to speak with Mr. Screenwriter on the phone,” you must remember that I worked from home with a four-year-old tugging at my pant leg every ten minutes.
Therefore, if I wanted my impulsive plan to work (and by impulsive, I mean impulsive—I’d only come up with the idea a half hour before, when my clever four-year-old suggested in a matter-of-fact-tone, “If you want to speak to him, you should call him.”), it was imperative for the Flickering Babysitter to hold her clever attention for at least 10 minutes.
The fact that I also absent-mindedly poured her a bowl of Cheetos bigger than her little blond head while he and I were conversing is not one of my proudest parenting moments. But it did give Mr. Screenwriter and I something else to talk about.
“I just put on Rocky and Bullwinkle for my daughter, so I can get a quiet moment to speak with you. I don’t even know what Rocky and Bullwinkle’s about. Working from home doesn’t always work out for me,” I laughed.
“How old is she again?” he asked.
“Four.”
“She might be a little young, but try Pinky and the Brain,” he said, and he went on to explain why he and his daughter liked the show. We were having a regular conversation. I didn’t think I sounded like a stalker or a bimbo, but apparently I did sound Canadian, because he made a joke about my o’s. I laughed and relaxed a little, catching my breath so I could ask him my next question.
“So, I guess you’re really answering my emails?”
“Yes, Heather, you’re not being punked.”
That’s what it took for me to finally believe. Yes, Virgina, he really was Mr. Screenwriter! I could finally let go and start enjoying my time on his Mr. Screenwriter & The Facebook Movie discussion board. Maybe I’d even stretch my legs a little. Or a lot. It was the best thing that could have happened.
Posting on a public discussion board for the first time helped me find my funny, and reading about his work (and how much he seemed to love doing what he did) inspired me to try to write a screenplay of my own—something I’d never dreamed of trying until I happened upon that discussion board in December 2008.
I suppose my journalism training has made me overly suspicious of everything I read—especially items I read on the Internet—plus, I’ve probably watched Conspiracy Theory a few too many times. But if I weren’t an over-thinking-paranoid-yet-impulsive frosted flake, I wouldn’t have these great stories to share. There is a method to my madness.
I don’t regret much in my life, but I do regret deleting Mr. Screenwriter’s blog comment because, well, it was damn funny. And who doesn’t want to drive traffic to their blog? Who cares how it happens, as long as the readers get there?
Apparently, me. Apparently, I am the freak of nature who cares a little too much about pretty much everything. I wish I’d had Cher near my computer that day, smacking me silly, “Snap out of it, Blondie!” Why did I have to be so perfectly principled? It’s not like I’d posted photos of me pole dancing— “More of this at heathergracestewart.com!” (Besides, I couldn’t possibly have any photos like that, in case you’re wondering).
Luckily, my fits of over-thinking and panic have miraculously failed to scare Mr. Screenwriter out of my life, so I am still treated to his brand of funny from time to time.
Read how this story started:
Prologue: The Fine Line (between persistence and stalking)
1) a-The Fine Line: “Do What You Want”
c-“I”m Afraid To Ask, But What Is Poking?”
Read the NEXT chapter: “You Should Write A Movie”
I’ve just discovered Flag Counter, a widget that allows me to find out more about who’s visiting my site, and I have to say, I’m a little obsessed. In the last two days since I installed it, people from 29 different countries have visited Where the Butterflies Go.
Imagine if I could host that party in person! I’d have to serve cake. Coffee cake, crepes flambé, and ice cream. Flowers, lovely amber-coloured dishes and glasses; candles everywhere. A punch with the good stuff in it, a virgin one, and some coffee. And of course, a great mix of music in an attempt to suit all your tastes. I’d read my poetry, and you’d read yours. Then I’d make you strap on a nunchuck controller and play The West Wing for Wii (just wanted to see who’s actually reading this).
I’m learning a little about each of your countries every time you visit. Flag Counter has an option to click on the country name and learn about its history. Every time someone from a new area visits, I’m reading about your country. For instance, I knew very little about Lithuania, until I read this here:
http://s03.flagcounter.com/factbook/lt/1y
It prompted me to scan the Net for some more information on the countries I haven’t visited and know little about. I’m not getting much writing work done today.
I love history and social studies–mix that with a variety of people from around the world who enjoy poetry and photography, and I’m in heaven.
These days, our attention spans are limited, and it seems there aren’t enough hours in the day. Thanks for spending some of your precious time with me here at Where the Butterflies Go. I may just have to host a blog party soon.
Best Wishes,
Heather
I’ve been Exposed!
Fellow poet and blogger Kellie Elmore has deemed me Exposure Worthy. I answered her interview questions late last night, and to my surprise, she notified me this morning that she already had the complete interview up at her site–with links and all! She’s amazing.
Thanks so much for suggesting we do the interview, and for
asking such great questions, Kellie. I thought it was going to be painful (I’m used to being the journalist; the one who asks all the questions) but it was actually a fun trip down memory lane.
Check it out here:
Kellie Elmore interviews me
And please read my favorite poem by Kellie Elmore:
Magic in the Backyard by Kellie Elmore
Have a great week everyone.
Cheers,
Heather
This gallery contains 3 photos.
I’m just a big kid at heart. Something I try to do in every new city I visit is find and ride a carousel. I love the music, I love the intricate artwork, and I love how every carousel has a story to tell. Carousel comes from the French word carrousel and the Italian word [...]
When you put the voices of Bing Crosby and David Bowie together with the beauty of Peace on Earth and Little Drummer Boy, something magical happens.
I only like Christmas carols for about two weeks a year, and then I get sick of them. But this song–this one I could play all year long. It calms me, and gives me hope.
You can buy the song on itunes. Go ahead, if you know the words. Hum it out loud. Come on, no one’s really listening. It’ll make you feel calm and peaceful, too. Pa rum pa pum pum…“I pray my wish will come true, for your child and my child too…”
Sometimes my favourite thing to do–while not the easiest thing to do–is letting go of my Superwoman complex. I can’t do it all; I can’t be all things to all people. I’m only now learning to admit and accept that.
I do like to cook, but not when I have to cook. Breakfast for dinner–waffles with blueberries or french toast with strawberries–is a fun change, and always comforting after a long day. My daughter never complains, and it’s the easiest thing to cook.
I usually make fluffy, Belgian waffles from scratch in our waffle maker, but one day last week I was having a particularly busy day, so I took the easy way out and made toaster waffles with blueberries on top. Decaf lattes for the grown ups, and ice cream with sprinkles for our daughter, and everyone was happy.
Go ahead. Pass the maple syrup, and tell your inner Superwoman to go take a hike!

Waffles a la HGS--a real delicacy
I’m a girly girl.
There, I said it. Sometimes I have problems admitting it, because it seems a little weak. And I’m not weak. I like to inline skate long distances. I love to cardio box. I like to debate a point. I love to win.
But the girly girl in me takes over when there are dresses and heels in my vicinity. I don’t own many: maybe just three good party dresses and three pairs of nice heels. But I love it when I get a chance to wear them.
Dressing up lifts my spirits, and makes me feel youthful (with the big 4-0 approaching–in 2012–feeling youthful is a very, very good thing). I’m not saying I’d happily go grocery shopping in heels–that’s when I break out the running shoes–but fashion can be so much fun. Life is short. Play it up!

Me in one of my favourite dresses
I have found a second home here in the blogosphere, with too many benefits to mention.
I started my blog a little over two years ago, but I didn’t get really involved with the blogging community until my book Leap came out in February 2010. I had posted a few of the poems from my 2008 collection Where the Butterflies Go, but I hadn’t tried a poetry rally yet, or done an interview with any other blogger. I hadn’t hung out with you guys yet. Now I have, and I’m hooked. Plus, I’ve had people from 84 different countries visit me in the last three weeks (actual page-view visits of more than five minutes)–how cool is that?
Getting feedback on my work, reading your lovely comments about my poems and photos, checking out your posts–that would be enough for me to keep doing this forever, but wait, there’s more.
Publishers have found me through my blog and bought the rights to my photographs and poems. Young writers have found me through my blog and asked for some advice. It’s very rewarding to be able to help them out as best I can, and I’m looking forward to watching their careers unfold.
I’ve sold more books thanks to my blogging than I have at any public reading (a lot of swapping, not buying, goes on at readings) and best of all, through sales of both books, I’ve been able to donate to Unicef’s Gift of Education project three times. That’s three children who have received an education they may not have otherwise received, thanks to you readers!
Today, as a Christmas gift to thank you for visiting, commenting, giving me special awards, buying my books, and for your friendship, I’ve donated to Unicef (Canada) again. The $18 just bought 900 pencils for an entire school. Can you believe how much just $18 can do? Please do look at the Unicef link if you still have hard-to-shop-for people on your list.
My hopes for my 2011 blogging year? New friends, new projects, and more book sales so I have can get a fourth ($75) education for a child in need–or, perhaps–and this is a big reach but it’s a dream–a $500 water pump for an entire community.
I said it in 2009 to some most excellent friends (who later got me a t shirt saying I can’t rap), and I’ll say it again: I’ll be the very model of a modern networked blogger, yo!

My blogging "Mews" Sam
I started A Children’s Poetry Place a few months back, but haven’t been able to devote as much time to it as Where the Butterflies Go. Watch for more children’s poetry there in 2011. You can subscribe to the feed, or even follow the blog on Networked Blogs.
To end the year in style there, here are some Haiku. Don’t miss the delightful Murkles either. Thanks for reading! If you can, please let others know about this new blog, and of course, spend some time there with your children.
Thanks so much for visiting from all over the world, for your comments, and for your friendships. Let’s keep our love of poetry alive & well in 2011 and beyond.
Happy Holidays,
Heather

'Santa, Please Stop Here' by Heather Grace Stewart

Sam was not harmed in any way for this photo, plus, he got our turkey scraps.
This morning, you handed me my fortune.
“All your hard work is about to pay off.”
Okay. I could look at this one of two ways.
1. Oh goody, my time has finally come!
2. This fortune is six months old. You found it
at the bottom of my hot pink purse, which you
emptied because your Zhu Zhu pets needed
a fashionable home.
Is there a warranty on fortune cookies?

It’s very cool when award committees come to you. For awards you never even knew about, never even applied for. This has never happened to me before. It will probably never happen again. I am honored, grateful, and a little bemused. Does anyone use that word anymore? Well, I just did.
Here’s an excerpt from the letter I got yesterday:
Congratulations Heather!
Your blog, Where The Butterflies Go, has been selected to receive the First Class Blogger Award. Your blog was chosen by a committee of four bloggers who feel Where The Butterflies Go exemplifies what a great blog can be. It is our belief that first class blogs are more about the effort and time the owner puts into their blog and less about its page rank or the number of visitors it gets.
Your site will be listed on January 9, 2011 with three others.
Keep up the great work and congratulations again!
Thank you, First Class Blogger Award Committee. This was a really nice surprise.
Thanks to my readers for making me want to keep writing every day.
Heather
Don’t Blink—Day 7
Here’s your Friday giggle and a challenge: caption this photo with as G a comment as you can (This blog is linked to my children’s poetry site, I just want to keep things clean. Plus, it makes it more of a challenge). I can’t think of anything rated PG, let alone G.
If you can think of a poem, or a limerick, even better. Have fun with it!
I’ll start with the caption by our five-year-old:
“He looks like the Cheddar Cat on Alice in Wonderland.”
Edited to add: I didn’t set this photo up. I found my cat Sam like this.

I’d like to thank Jingle and everyone in her wonderful poetry community for voting for me and the other talented recipients of the Celebrate Poet of 2010 Award.
You can take a peek here to see this blog award and some other fun awards I’ve won lately.
Sometimes, I even add a pair of sparkly shoes I’m drooling over, just to make it less about the awards, because it all feels a little silly. I write because I love to do it and can’t imagine life without poetry! But thanks for reading and remembering my work.
And, sorry, I just can’t help myself here–please be extremely careful if you retype this post. A couple typos, and I’m the Celibate Poet of 2010.
American writer and poet Jamie Dedes, a former columnist and features writer, reviewed ‘Leap’ today in her Saturday Review series. I’m thrilled with her well-written, informative review (and tickled she’d put Anne Murray, k.d. lang, and Mark Vonnegut in the same sentence as my name) and wanted to share parts of it with my readers here.
“When I think of Canada, the first thing I think of is snow and Mark Vonnegut (The Eden Express, Memoir of Insanity), and voices clear and cool as mountain spring-water, k.d. lang and Anne Murray … and now I think of Heather Grace Stewart, a new-to-me poet, writer/journalist, children’s writer, and photographer,” writes Jamie.
She continues, “In this one collection, Leap, Heather deftly combines lightness and depth. It’s an honest, unpretentious look at life with all its risks and joys. We recommend that you take the Leap. The book is oversized with a paperback cover and illustrated with Heather’s photographs of family – especially her young daughter – and nature scenes. It can be purchased HERE for $9.99 with half the proceeds going to UNICEF’s Gift of Education project.
You can read the whole review and many other great posts over at Jamie Dedes’ site.
Thanks, as always, for reading and taking the leap with me.

'Poetry Rocks' copyright Meg Laufer 2010
from Where the Butterflies Go
There are no ordinary days.
Yes, coffee so often gets cold
before you drink it,
work gets trite and tedious,
traffic jams in the same place every day,
love and family fall into routine—
But look a little closer
in that rear view mirror:
There, in that car behind you.
That young girl, her face aglow;
She’s on her way to the hospital
waiting to get her cochlear implants—
waiting to hear birds sing,
a running stream,
her mother’s voice.
Or there,
in that long lineup at the grocery store.
See that woman in the tattered grey coat?
She’ll only be able to buy the milk.
Everything else will be put back
and she will walk out in shame;
her three hungry children
tagging along behind her.
Look there, at that big, beautiful home
with the blue shutters.
He’s just left her and their children.
Moved away; told her in a text message.
She’s feigning an “Everything’s Great” grin
for acquaintances on the street,
but inside, she’s broken.
How can he erase them
so easily, without emotion?
Erased like chalk-drawn hearts,
not the tiny, beating hearts
they once lulled to sleep.
Look again.
Objects in that mirror
are closer than they appear.
There are no ordinary days.
Not for you, not for me,
not for our angels.

I fell in love with a lot of poems when I was given the chance to look at them critically with my own eyes, perhaps even to disagree with the teacher or critics’ opinions, and to debate that point in class with my peers.
Oxford University Press has a new textbook for grade 10 English students, ‘Interface,’ by Oxford Next, which allows students the chance to do just that—on topics as diverse as Careers, Consumerism, Film and War. I’m thrilled that one of my poems, ‘Social Networking’ is featured in the Social Networking section of this modern, intelligent, and engaging textbook.
I got my copy of the texbook on Friday, and–I can’t really say it any other way–I completely flipped out when I saw that my poem is featured alongside poems by Michael Ondaatje and Margaret Atwood, an excerpt from an Amy Tan book, a Hamlet speech by Shakespeare, and part of Barack Obama’s inauguration speech.
I’ve looked over this textbook and am so impressed with how it engages the reader with its modern, web-page-like design; how it asks open-ended questions in the margins, and offers a choice of 3-5 creative projects to help students explore themes further. To have my work featured in a textbook of this quality just blows me away. I hope my poems will ignite young readers’ minds, and stir their souls, or at least give them a chuckle, for many more years.
Interface will soon have an “online interface,” so students can listen to poets read their works, use a personal e-notebook and self assessments, and much more. If you are a Canadian principal or teacher, please check out these incredible textbooks for 21st century students at Oxford Next My poem appears in Interface v2.2, Grade 10 English.
If you’re an educator and you’re interested in this series for your school, here’s a two minute digital video about the Interface series.
I’m a member of the League of Canadian Poets and participate in their ‘Poets in the Schools’ Program for Ontario elementary and high schools (I can visit any locale across Canada as part of Canada Poetry tours). I love reading my poems about computer technology /social networking/ cyber-bullying as part of my school workshops. Please contact the League to make arrangements.


Did you guys know I write childrens’ poems? I love it. In fact, my first published book was a children’s e-book, Bubble Mud and Other Poems (available as a PDF file for anyone interested). The publisher no longer exists, and the rights to those poems have reverted to me. I’ve included some of the best of these poems in my children’s poetry manuscript, The Party In Your Lunchbox, and am in search of a publisher for this anthology of poems for preschoolers to 10 year olds.
In the mean time, I’d really like to share some of the poems from “The Party In Your Lunchbox” with you readers, and with my daughter, who asked me about the book the other day.
“Can I draw pictures for your book? I could do it! Let me do it!”
We spent this Saturday reading my poems out loud, with her brainstorming about how she could interpret them with her own illustrations. I thought she might create one drawing. She whipped off five.
I love it when stuff like that happens. Please visit A Children’s Poetry Place to see the first of the results, and leave a comment there if you do.
I may just have to hire my own kid to illustrate my book of kids poems…
A Few Cat Poems by Heather Grace Stewart & Introducing Artist Kayla Stewart, 5.

'Cat Wants In From the Rain' copyright Kayla Stewart 2011, don't steal my kids picture or I'll beat you up.
I like to dust;
I like to clean.
I love to make things
shimmer and glean.
My sister Nat is different;
she likes a good mess.
So sometimes I clean for her,
I confess.
Once I took her to the cleaners,
not her old coin Laundromat,
but they made a mistake,
and laundered Nat!
I came back the next day.
There she hung, with the clothes:
Spotless and pressed,
from her head to her toes.
Now we share the housework,
But Nat gets the clothes cleaned.
For we’ll never forget
that day she was steamed.
from the manuscript The Party In Your Lunchbox copyright Heather Grace Stewart, Art by Kayla Stewart, age 5. I’m trying to get a bit of traffic and knowledge about my new blog, “A Children’s Poetry Place,” could you please visit there, and tell others about it too? Thanks so much. Here’s the link:
I spent the day trying to figure out how to help our friends in Japan, Hawaii, and other areas devastated by today’s earthquake and tsunami(s).
I am just one person, but I realized with the network of talented poets I’ve built over the years, I actually have a lot to offer. Not enough time to publish a book of poems with proceeds to relief – I want to help NOW. After brainstorming with my friends Mark and Brandee on Twitter, I decided I could do something effective, right here on my blog.
Introducing ‘Poets for Tsunami Relief” –a one-week blogzine of poetry by my talented poet pals. I’ll be posting as many poems as I can this week on many different themes. My plan is to offer my audience a variety of excellent poetry in hopes that readers will open their minds and hearts to the poems, and to the cause.
After reading poems in this Poets for Tsunami blogzine, I hope you’ll click on “Donate” button to the right, which leads you directly to the American Red Cross site, where you can choose how you want to donate to help with relief efforts. I didn’t post a link to Canadian Red Cross yet, as most of my readers are American, but I will happily add links to various Red Cross web sites beneath the poetry posts, especially if you ask for them in the comments.
I’m pleased to announce my poet friend in the UK, poet Tony Lewis-Jones, has already submitted a beautiful tanka, which I’ll be posting shortly. Please submit your poems for consideration and a one-line bio to writer@hgrace.com
Thanks for reading Poets for Tsunami Relief.
Please consider a donation to The Red Cross.
In Canada, go to: http://www.redcross.ca/article.asp?id=000043&tid=016
In the UK, go to: http://www.redcross.org.uk/Donate-Now
In the US, click on the red button I’ve added on my sidebar
(red button is on the home page http://heathergracestewart.com), top right.
Cheers
Heather
Tanka 11.03.11
God
be kind
to Japan this time.
May the waters recede
and our friends have peace.
Tony Lewis-Jones is a poet and editor who lives in Bristol, UK.
Thanks for reading Poets for Tsunami Relief.
Please consider a donation to The Red Cross.
In Canada, go to: http://www.redcross.ca/article.asp?id=000043&tid=016
In the UK, go to: http://www.redcross.org.uk/Donate-Now
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Gendai haiku
first quarter moon
dancing pinheads burst
into new angel DNA
email to Canada
The moon is in its first quarter
this Japan morning
the day after
Tanka
the long night
and longer day
even our broken moon
over the biggest wave
separates our love
Alan Summers is a Japan Times award-winning writer for haiku and renga: www.withwords.org.uk
He wrote me tonight:
“Many of my Japanese friends are safe, either home, or still walking back
home. One is even on the 20th storey of a big building because Japanese
buildings are so safe, but homes can’t compete. The wave was travelling
at 600mph.”
Thanks for reading Poets for Tsunami Relief.
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Now it’s beautiful
Now it’s beautiful.
The snow drips from the heavens
in white large frozen tears of
the angels and i am hypnotized
like a man struck by just how
a woman walking can leave him
speechless.
Now it’s beautiful.
Whereas before it was rainy
and gloomy, and the snow was
black and iced hard except for
the slush that was loose and ready
to give out under you no matter
how well you strut. But,
now it’s beautiful,
and i sit in the dark here in my
room. 15 stories from the ground
and the dripping tears dance
backlit by the lights of Times Square
and all i can think of is
now it’s beautiful.
_________________________________
Robert Smith is a poet originally from Outside of Buffalo, NY, who lived in California, but now lives in Georgia. His Twitter page @rasmithii says he tweets his poems “from an airport near you.”
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cursing the rain
in my erstwhile English way—
news breaks that Japan is breaking
so many washed away…
I “brave the rain” and pray
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Poem for Japan
The music of children playing
A smile warms my face
Vibrant blues stretch for
Deepening reds on arms
Cardinal hiding in a bush
Flew there ‘pon approach
Crows circling high above
Lazing through the summer sky
Cool of the evening
Ending a summers day
Mark Stratton is the editor of Cats With Thumbs literary blogzine. He lives in Columbia, MO, USA with his wife and three cats, and says he ‘scribbles on occasion.’
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I Believe
I believe
God is everything
everything soft
not hard
even the sun
and the rain
Kayla Mae Stewart is a five-year-old poet and artist. She lives in Quebec, Canada with her parents and two demanding cats.
Ed’s note:
Kayla doesn’t attend church, though she has gone to a couple Sunday school meetings with her cousins (and loved it). Don’t think I’ve talked about God much with her, only to say what I believe, that he watches over us, so this one blew me away. Yesterday, after school, Kayla was talking about how her teacher was saying sometimes things are real that you can’t see. I piped up “Maybe like God,” and she went on to say exactly what I transcribed above. She said it, and I wrote it down as a poem, to share with you.
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breathe goodbye
my hands touch her warm flesh
floating across her skin as if
guided by some unseen
presence.
the curves of her shoulders,
the flow of her waist
the softness of her
thighs.
I am humbled by her body
Gathering strength
from the hole inside me
as I say, see you soon, babe,
leaving the room, with a sigh
the tubes are
pulled.
the alarm sounds and together we breathe goodbye.
______________________
Robert Smith is a poet originally from Outside of Buffalo, NY, who lived in California, but now lives in Georgia. His Twitter page @rasmithii says he tweets his poems “from an airport near you.”
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Taking Back
The sea lunges forth
To claim her sacred bounty
Snatched from Earth’s lax grasp
Brandee Baltzell calls herself a “fledgling poet & writer.” She lives in Surprise, Arizona.
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Funeral for Revelations Sun
Gray mist rains on the mourning,
smothering earths ember
as she is laid to rest.
Trumpets sound,
a lonesome hymn
across rolling hills
and swallowed valleys.
In the darkest hour,
clarity rains
an immortal dew,
settling ash
atop a new harvest.
Kellie Elmore lives in East Tennessee. She’s been writing since she was very young, and says she can’t imagine life without her pen and music. Please visit her blog Magic in the Backyard to see this poem http://magicinthebackyard.wordpress.com/2010/08/18/funeral-for-revelations-sun/and also, feel free to pick up a beautiful button she has designed for your blog: Love for Japan: http://t.co/vioKPxC
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La Luna Piena
Last night’s full moon,
resplendent in its frost-haloed glory,
shone like the brightest pearl,
perched on a phosphorescent-ringed
half-shell, like Botticelli’s Venus.
Or maybe like a silver stone
dropped into the
deepest-blue pool, and there
emitting concentric ripples
of gold, turquoise, and pink,
and a light beyond white,
casting shadows so dense
on the December snow,
I tripped over one.
Joe Hesch is a writer and poet from Albany, NY. Please give him a visit at his poetry blog, A Thing for Words at http://www.athingforwords-jahesch.blogspot.com/
Thanks for reading Poets for Tsunami Relief.
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Bent to pray
Spring flowers
pause in silence
from their bloom
it’s not meant
to be like
this
On the news
they recount
a cost
worth more
than any
jackpot luck
The watching
close their
desperate eyes
heads not
turned but
bent to pray
Hoping it’s
not too late
for love
to change the
world we’re
dying of
Kirsten Shaw (@shawkirsten) is a UK poet. She works at a boarding school for children with learning difficulties/special educational needs, teaching and looking after the children who live at the school.
Visit her blog at Poems and their Stories http://kirstenshawpoetry.blogspot.com/
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Prayers in rough wood
My prayers in rough wood
are strung up with twine and hope,
spiral like incense
to an unhearing heaven,
float back to the ears of men
Who with gentle hands
unfold my finger-petals,
suck out from cupped palm
the splinters of unborn dreams,
catch the bleeding dew of faith.
Joanna Suzanne Lee lives and writes in Richmond, Virginia, USA. She writes:
“This was my first effort at a tanka (actually it’s two tanka put back-to-back), and it came from an image I took when I visited Japan two summers ago: an offering left at a Shinto shrine in Nara, where you could write your own prayers or wishes on little wood blocks and hang them on the shrine itself.”
___________________
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Will We Ever Hurt
Across the ocean, around the world
Devastation knows no limits
When our kind are left to suffer
As happenstance or coincidence
Embraces them in a vice like grip
Our prayers fly, but not fast enough
As families are torn
Tossed like discarded paper
Into the vortex of the unknown
Swimming toward the ether
I can’t tear my eyes away
Power, raw and uncompromising
No judgment, for in Her wrath
We are all equals
Saints and Sinners united
Disbelief as the numbers rise
Heart aching, knowing
I will never understand
The grief, the pain, the fear
The Loss
The world suddenly grows quiet
Piece by ravaged piece
Will the puzzle ever be solved?
Will the pieces ever again fit?
We change, as the result
Blessed in the safety of my home
Loved ones surrounding me
Watching the turn of the tide
Will we ever hurt?
Will we ever understand the loss?
Natasha Head is a poet from the east coast of Canada. She writes me, “While I’ve seen the strength of the ocean in my Nova Scotia homeland, nothing could ever compare to what what’s happened in Japan. I urge you, each and everyone, to give what little you can spare to help those who are in need so much more than we are, RIGHT NOW.”
Please visit her blog at http://natashalivestowrite.blogspot.com/
________________________________________
Thanks for reading Poets for Tsunami Relief.
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untitled love poem
‘i have sat among those in love and watched it live
and die right before my eyes’ the old man said to me
my heart was crumbling with loss and here was the
old man talking to me in my moment of
solitude
pain
suffering
anguish
loss.
‘full love is as rare as a full life. i lost mine
a long time ago.’ he told me.
‘how’s that?’
‘i lost her with my lies.’
‘you deceived her?’
‘and myself. i told her it was over, i told
her i no longer cared, that my mind and soul
were mixed up. haste makes such waste. i wish
i only knew then what i know now.’
‘what’s that?’
He ignored my question.
‘i let her go you know. painfully, sorrowfully.
i was depressed. i could have gotten her
i know i could have changed her mind.
i just didn’t try. i wasn’t thinking straight.
foolish man pride. i should have tried harder,
flowers, candy, love letters, all corny, but true.
i could have sang her a song, wrote her name
in the sky, told her that i lied. i lied when i said
it was over. i lied when i said i didn’t love her
no more. i lied when i said that she was the fool.
i know that it is the heart that makes the young man
such a fool. for if the young man truly loves with all
of his heart he will give whatever it takes,
and take whatever he gets, to achieve
love.’
______________________
Robert Smith is a poet originally from Outside of Buffalo, NY, who lived in California, but now lives in Georgia. His Twitter page @rasmithii says he tweets his poems “from an airport near you.”
Thanks for reading Poets for Tsunami Relief.
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Leap hits #3 in iBooks Canada~Poetry and ‘What’s Ho… on Twitpic.
Thank you so much, readers. It all began here, on this blog, with me introducing you to my poetry in the collection, “Where the Butterflies Go.” You’ve shown me nothing but support and friendship since the summer of 2008–and we’ve managed to fund two children’s educations, help out a small school in India, and get pencils for an entire school – twice. Thanks so much for reading and sharing news about my poetry with others. Never stop leaping!
Heather
P.S. Both my poetry collections -in print and digital format – are 15 percent off their already-low prices (ebooks just $2.99 and $1.99 ) till end of day Sept. 26 at http://www.lulu.com – type in OKTOBERFEST305 at checkout.
Welcoming Our Newest Author Heather Grace Stewart
Via Winter Goose Publishing On October 29, 2011 · In Author News
Heather was born in Ottawa, Canada. She lives with her husband and daughter near Montreal. She is an accomplished poet, photographer, and writer with publication in such magazines as Readers Digest. We are looking forward to publishing her poetic collection ‘Carry On Dancing’ this coming March in preparation for April’s National Poetry month.
Learn more about Heather on her Author Page and visit her website. You can also follow her on Twitter and Facebook.
Welcome to my new series: Interview with a Poet. My aim with this series is to introduce you to a handful of the hundreds of talented poets I’ve had the pleasure of meeting – both online and in person – in recent years. Good poetry should be shared, and every poet has a story that can enlighten and inspire others. Here is Kris Bigalk’s:
Every poet knows that getting a solo book of poetry published is no easy feat, but Kris Bigalk wasn’t about to give up easily. The creative writing program director, mother and poet from Minneapolis, Minnesota entered “every contest under the sun,” worked on her manuscript constantly for three years, and spent hundreds of dollars on entry fees.
“At the end of that three-year period, I felt like I had nothing to show for it,” she says. “I had published poems in New York Quarterly, so one day I took a chance and politely emailed the editor. He liked the manuscript, and offered me a book contract. This was quite a surprise for me!”
Repeat the Flesh in Numbers will be published by New York Quarterly Books in March 2012.
Kris’s love of language and writing began at an early age. “I started keeping journals at eight or nine, to help process my emotions. What keeps me writing is the thrill of getting some words on the page and tinkering with them until they say something that I never knew that I knew,” says the founder and now director of Normandale Community College’s creative writing program—the largest Association of Fine Arts (AFA) program in the country.
What keeps me writing is the thrill of getting some words on the page and tinkering with them until they say something that I never knew that I knew. ~Kris Bigalk
Kris’s work has recently appeared in Rougarou, Silk Road, the cream city review, and other journals. She has chosen to share ‘Senor Squirrel,’ recently published in Pif magazine, with us, as it’s one many readers will identify with:
Senor Squirrel
by Kris Bigalk
The habenero peppers were no accident.
I grew them
especially for you,
to watch you pluck a bright yellow bonnet,
turn it over in your hands like a topaz
or tourmaline, then sink your bicuspids
hard into the flesh, only to throw
it three feet into the air, your mouth
on fire with my revenge, tail stiff
and high as you raced for your burrow
as I laughed, counting the losses
I had suffered at your paws – tulip bulbs,
sunflower heads, sleepy mornings
interrupted by your family arguments
in the tree outside my window…
Me gusto, Senor Squirrel.
The back-story behind this poem is rather amusing. Kris’s family is engaged in an ongoing war with the two families of squirrels in her yard, and so far, “The squirrels are winning,” she laughs. “We have a total of at least eight squirrels, some red, some gray. They fight with one another and regularly decimate my flowerbeds and my vegetable garden. One year, I planted Habanero peppers, and Señor Squirrel is about what happened next.”
Kris likes to write with humor to draw in her readers and put them at ease at the start of readings. “My funny poems tend to be the crowd-pleasers, but I write an equal number of serious poems, and honestly, they are more fulfilling for me as a writer.”
Several of the poems in Kris’s upcoming collection began with a story or an off-hand remark she heard at a party. “‘My dogs are my kids,’ she said, and I said” is a poem in the collection that centers on how dogs are really not at all like children. It’s an uncomfortable fact that we live in a country where a lot of dogs eat better, dress better, and have better medical care than a lot of children do — and the poem draws attention to an ethical dilemma many dog owners had not really considered. When I read that poem at a reading, the huge range of reactions to the content of the poem makes it a new experience every time.”
As if Kris isn’t busy enough with her five children (a daughter and four boys, including twins!), running the largest AFA program in the country, tricking clever squirrels, and launching her March 2012 poetry collection, she’s just learned that two of her poems will be appearing in a fine art book featuring photographs, poems, and prose, entitled Open to Interpretation: Waters Edge. You can look for it at http://www.open2interpretation.com and learn more about Kris and her work at the following websites:
Author websites: http://krisbigalk.wordpress.com; http://nyqbooks.org/author/krisbigalk
Book website: http://nyqbooks.org/title/repeatthefleshinnumbers
Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gps3WMR8doc&feature=youtu.be
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5003761.Kris_Bigalk
Twitter: @KrisBigalk
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Repeat-the-Flesh-in-Numbers-by-Kris-Bigalk/267990013233226
I had a special classroom visit in October. The Grade 1 teacher, Mme. Teresa, decided to create a craft based on the poem ‘Gadget Snow Pants’ from “The Groovy Granny”
It was such a wonderful classroom visit. I read a few poems to the children, and was so pleased with their request for an encore. They also loved it when I pulled out my iPad and read ‘The Groovy Granny’ from iBooks! The children got very creative as they added their own tools and gadgets (everything from GPS systems to lip gloss) to their cardboard snow pants. Later, Mme. T. hung everyone’s gadget snow pants above their lockers, made a display called ‘A Visit By A Poet,’ and sent me a picture of the children’s masterpieces. She even added her own review of my book at my online Bookstore:
“Heather Grace Stewart and the “Groovy Granny” visited my Grade 1 class! What a treat for my students. Heather had selected only a few poems to read but they wanted more – I’m afraid that she had to do more than one encore! The funny and thought provoking poems stimulated their imaginations and they absolutely loved the colourful artwork that accompanied each poem. “Gadget Snow Pants” lent itself to a fabulously fun art activity where the children painted and decorated snow pants with their own gadgets. Thank you Heather for coming and brightening up our day!”
Madame Teresa
Grade 1 TeacherThanks so much to Mme. Teresa and her Grade 1 class. I love visiting classrooms and encouraging a love of reading. Please contact the League of Poets to learn more about their Poets in the Schools program.

Heather Grace Stewart reading from The Groovy Granny

'A Visit By A Poet'

Poet mark Stratton
My first question for mark was one that I didn’t even think of asking (because I hadn’t noticed) until I reread his first collection Tender Mercies. What’s with the lowercase m in his given name, ‘mark,’ and Uppercase S in his family name?
“I firmly believe that the Work is far more important than I am. However, I do not wish to show any disrespect to my family as they are quite important. Not only to me, but in their own right and accomplishments. So, I honor them and leave my given name lower case.”
mark began his writing journey as a self-proclaimed “angsty” teenager, but argues that back then, he “had nothing to say that hadn’t been said before.” He got more serious about writing in 2008, and continues to write today because it has become habitual and “more importantly,” explains mark, “it’s become needful for me to do so.”
James Brush, author of the blog ‘Coyote Mercury,’ wrote about mark Stratton’s writing style in his recent review of Tender Mercies:
I don’t always get what mark’s getting at, but the ride, the language, is a pleasure, and sometimes a line or two finds a place in my mind, takes root and won’t leave me alone. So the book goes back in the bag and I carry it around some more, sometimes forgetting it’s there only to be happily surprised again.
The most challenging part of writing Tender Mercies for mark was trusting the poems, trusting “when they were telling me they were connected as I was making them,” he explains. The greatest reward, now that the book has been out a while, has been “learning that the poems have resonated with readers.”
He enjoys being a part of online writing communities on Twitter and Facebook, but it puzzles him at times. “The very fact that people from all over the world have read my little scribbles fascinates me and humbles me at the same time,” he says.
mark’s most recent chapbook Postmarks is, as he says, “a total DIY job, handmade and assembled by me.” mark even took the cover photo.
One of the poems, ‘Frank,’ takes on the persona of a dead speaker: I’ll see them when/they get here, They’ll hate it too./And we’ll laugh. /Like being dead isn’t such a big deal after all.
A sign of the times, perhaps, is that ‘Frank’ was sparked by a discussion on Twitter. “The “trigger” for this was a discussion on Persona Poems on the Twitter #poetparty,” says mark. “The story in the poem is true, except for the parts I made up. It was an exercise in writing outside of my own voice, and I was fairly pleased with the result.”
It doesn’t surprise mark that poetry survives, and in some places, thrives, today. “Poetry, in some for or another, will thrive and survive because it was in our souls, bone deep, to express ourselves. The form and patterns may change, but poetry will survive as long as human kind does. Poetry truly is a way to express in words that which cannot be said any other way.”
You can follow mark (lowercase m)
on Twitter and Facebook, and please take a moment to check out his books Tender Mercies and Postmarks ~ support the art of poetry; support an indie author!
Frost webs on our windowpane;
Your skin on my skin;
Warm beneath the sheets—
Lie with me, lover.
Lie a while longer.
Our house lies sleeping too.
Listen.
Hear that?
Barely audible, or
another sense altogether,
Just beneath
our breathing,
the humming fridge,
morning traffic—
The dead, they whisper:
No work that will not wait
’til tomorrow.
I was asked to write a guest post about writing over at the Pen & Muse.
I had fun writing this one. Here it is!



































