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This month we are very excited to announce that our Featured Author is Poet Anastasia Clark. Ms. Clark is a wife, mother, and Grandmother to three amazing grandbabies. She is the author of four, full length poetry books. They include: Grieving with Poetry (Sun Rising Poetry Press, 2004), Bloodsongs (Sun Rising Poetry Press, 2004) Skeletons and Other Complaints (Sun Rising Poetry Press, 2004) and Vagabond Pond (Sun Rising Poetry Press, 2006). |
Ms. Clarkâs chapter books include the Poetry Petals collection (Sun Rising Poetry Press, 2004) - They are themed booklets designed for gift and floral baskets. Titles include Friendship Poems, Healing Poems, Holiday Poems, Humorous Poems, Inspirational Poems, Kaleidoscope Poems, Nostalgic Poems and Romantic Poems.
Anastasia grew up in Framingham, MA. She served as the Poet-In-Residence (1977-78) for the Framingham Public Schools System. Her work has appeared in numerous literary journals. Ms. Clark has served as a Poetry Editor, Poetry Columnist- and also a Poetry Contest Judge. She holds a Masters degree in Administration and a Bachelors in Liberal Studies. She honorably served our country for eight years in the U. S. Marine Corps. Anastasia currently resides in South Florida.
Her goal is to create a comprehensive body of original poetry. She hopes to enrich the lives of others by sharing her poetry with them. Additionally, she hopes to help foster an overall appreciation of poetry. To accomplish this she conducts poetry readings and appearances at libraries, schools, book stores, galleries and other venues. Ms. Clark would like to encouraging anyone who wants to learn more about poetry.
Visit her website at www.anastasiaclark.com or email her at goldenrush@aol.com to schedule an event or purchase a copy of her many wonderful books. Please join us in welcoming her. |
"Marmalade on a Sunday Bridge"
We made a picnic once:
Our legs dangling like soggy weeds
Over the ledge of Dumacker Bridge.
Our marmalade still warm-
On folded muffins we held in our hands,
Cupped in our laps
On a Sunday bridge.
And we could feel the willows move
In a brief haiku-
As we spoke of legends gone traveling there-
In the drifts below:
The runaways, and the castaways, and the stowaways
Who shifted beneath us in a heady breeze
Wanting to be like us,
Drenched in that warm, mushy marmalade-
Of a sunrise gone desperately mad. |
