A Day for Writers 2019 - Presenters and Registration form


A DAY FOR WRITERS 2019
Sylva, NC, August 24, 2019,
JACKSON COUNTY PUBLIC LIBRARY

C. Hope Clark, Joseph Bathanti, David Joy, Karen Holmes, Carol Crawford, Pat Vestal, Katie Winkler, Meagan Lucas

9:00 - 4:30, fee includes lunch, coffee, drinks and pastries
Copy registration form and mail with check or money order to:
NCWN-West, % Glenda Beall,
PO Box 843, Hayesville, NC 28904

Register online at www.ncwriters.org before August 19.

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A Day for Writers 2019

A Day for Writers 2019 Registration Form




Wednesday, June 2, 2010

COFFEE WITH THE POETS AT CITY LIGHTS, FEATURING GLENDA BEALL






COFFEE WITH THE POETS AT CITY LIGHTS, FEATURING GLENDA BEALL


City Lights Bookstore is pleased to announce a program for readers and writers
on the third Thursday of each month, beginning June 17. Coffee with the Poets
will feature a guest poet each month, including an informal discussion and
reading. The program will begin at 10:30, with coffee and snacks provided.
Spring Street Cafe welcomes all attendees to come downstairs for lunch
afterward.

The inaugural event will feature Glenda Council Beall of Hayesville. Glenda
has published poetry, personal essays, memoir, and fiction, and she is former
Program Coordinator for the North Carolina Writers’ Network West (NetWest).
Her background is in education and she continues to teach adults through
community services at Tri-County Community College and at the John C.
Campbell Folk School in Brasstown.

Glenda's book of poetry, Now Might as Well be Then, was recently published by
Finishing Line Press. Her blog, Writing Life Stories, at
http://profilesandpedigrees.blogspot.com shares some of her own stories and
suggestions for writing your own.



City Lights Bookstore
828-586-9499
3 East Jackson Street
Sylva, NC 28779
more@citylightsnc.com
Open 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. Monday-Saturday, and 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. Sundays
Browse and shop online at http://www.citylightsnc.com

From "My Laureate's Lasso" Poet of the Week:

Glenda Council Beall's new chapbook, Now Might As Well Be Then, from Finishing Line Press (http://www.finishinglinepress.com/) deserves many readers. I was honored to write a blurb for it. Glenda has worked wonders for NETWEST as Program Director and deserves our thanks for supporting the literary arts in Western North Carolina. Her new book would make a wonderful Christmas gift for family members. Several in my family will have this chapbook in their stockings!


Often those "supporters" are so busy making sure other writers find what they need to become better at the writer's craft that they don't have time for their own work. That's why I'm so pleased to honor Glenda as Poet of the Week. She's a great SW Georgia girl, and, naturally, I believe those girls have a leg up when it comes to writing poetry!




Here are a few of my favorite poems from her new chapbook.


Woman in the Mirror


What happened to seventeen,

when I rode my mare

free as the river flows,

jumped over downed trees

splashed through narrow streams?


What happened to twenty

when I danced in the moonlight,

my slender form dressed in a gown

white and shimmery as pearl?


What happened to thirty

when I rode my Yamaha

down fire roads, mountain trails,

long black hair flying free?


What happened to those days

I ask the woman in the mirror.

Gone, she says, all gone, unless

you remember it.


In The Dark



Lying in bed, my cheek against your shoulder,

I remember a night, long ago, on your boat.

I was afraid. I felt too much, too fast.

But love crept over us that summer

like silver fog, silent on the lake.

We were never again the same.


We stepped like children through that door that led

to long passages unknown, holding hands, wide-eyed, but brave.

Here I am years later, listening to your soft breath

and feeling your warm smooth skin.

In the dark, now might as well be then.



My Father's Horse



Stickers tear my legs, bare and tan

from South Georgia sun. Long black braids

fly behind me as I sprint like a Derby winner

down the path.


Harnessed with hames, bridle

and blinders, Charlie plods down

the farm road. Tired and wet from sweat,

he is perfume to my nostrils.


My father swings me up. I bury

my hands in tangled mane. My thighs

stick to leather and damp white hair

high above the ground.


I want to sing in glorious joy,

but only croon a child's nonsensical

words, grinning for a hundred yards

between field and barn.


My father's arms are strong.

His hands are gentle. The horse

is all we ever share. For he has sons

and I am just a daughter.


A Long Lost Year

Music making was his talent

taken for granted like water

gushing from our well until

the surgeon’s knife nicked a nerve.


The purple wreath of grief hung

over us until one day above the strum

of his guitar, his notes rang true ?

a lovely instrument restored.


We wept with joy.

His voice is who he is,

has

always been.


He sings to me again, that same

rich baritone that won me on that first

day we met. I listen with a new ear,

and like a Sinatra fan,

I mellow out.









2 comments:

  1. Thank you, Kay, for this nice write up and for inviting me to read at the first Coffee with the Poets in Sylva at City Lights. I look forward to being there and meeting more poets and writers. You are doing so much for Netwest as the Program Coordinator and bringing more poets to the attention of our viewers and readers.
    A Big Thank You!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Two of the nicest, most supportive, and best poets in the state in one post -- very nice. I hope City Lights' program is wonderfully successful.

    ReplyDelete

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