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Saturday, March 30, 2013

New book I'm Working on

I'm currently working on a book of poems about children in war. It is not a book for children, although certainly it's appropriate for high school age readers. When it's published (which will be soon, I hope) it will be titled "Caught in the Crossfire, poems of children in war". Here's a poem from the book to give readers a taste.


When, one day,
the wreck that is life
has turned,
and war
made small,
a bell that won't ring,
when a child's toys are lifted
from the dust
and repaired,
when anger and pride
have been stuffed
down into a bottomless ditch
covered with mud,
then, can she live.

Friday, March 29, 2013

Celebrating Books for Kids

There is no greater gift, I believe, than creating something positive in children's lives. Whether that be books or anything else that helps enhance a child's life, it is worth doing. I encourage everyone to find ways to help make the lives of children better.  Books can create positive role models for children that may influence their whole lives. If this is your calling don't stop writing. There will never be enough good books for children to read. Celebrate the written word. Write for children.

Monday, March 4, 2013

It's spring (well, almost) and time to get writing again. Winter seems to stunt my creativity, although I did write some, it seems to be harder when the weather is gray and cold. I've been working on a new book of poems about children and war. I went through a period where the words seemed to just explode from me because of the emotion I felt about children's vulnerability. I felt every word.

Like Ray Bradbury said, "Be certain of this: when honest love speaks, when admiration begins, when excitement rises, when hate curls like smoke, you need never doubt that creativity will stay with you for a lifetime."

I hope the same is true for each and every one of you who want/need to write...whatever the subject.
Here is one of my poems from my book:

A Dream
(2013 by Kathleen E. Fearing. All rights reserved.) 

What are
those cries I hear?
So far away,
soft shadows
caught in another dimension,
yet they persist, like unwelcome
storm clouds, voices adrift
in the night.
I shake my head,
turn aside,
concentrate on the whirring fan,
a book to read,
a chilled glass of wine,
will, perhaps,
make them go away.
But nothing works –
the cries of children
sacrificed to war,
they stay with me,
until I can no longer ignore them.