Paul Donovan, poet, from Murphy, NC, published an autobiographical book of poetry,
Ramblings of an Idiot, and is published in journals and anthologies including
Lights in the Mountains. He spent his time since becoming aware of the healing art of Reiki, writing poetry and essays from a more
spiritual prospective. Paul was the host of Fireside Friday, a monthly reading sponsored by the Curiosity Book store at the Shoppes of Murphy. Some years before, as NCWN-West Rep for Cherokee County, he held a reading each month at Shoebooties restaurant.
Paul also initiated the first Netwest anthology,
Lights in the Mountains, with his ideas for a poetry anthology by local poets. For many years he conducted the annual essay and poetry contest for high school students of Cherokee County. He was well liked and it seemed easy for Paul to collect funds from local businesses in Murphy to award cash prizes to the student winners.The winners of the contests and their parents were guests for a dinner at Shoebooties each spring.
From the early days of Netwest, Paul was active and a loyal member. In more recent years, his writing turned to personal essays about his childhood and growing up in Pennsylvania. He enrolled in a class on memoir at Tri-County Community College and his classmates enjoyed his stories.
If you knew Paul and would like to add to this post, just leave a comment. If you don't have a gmail account, you can easily publish as anonymous. Write your name in your comment or leave it anonymous.
We will miss Paul. Condolences to his lovely wife, Ann.
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Paul Donovan, Ramblings
of an Idiot Main
Street Rag, 1999
Eroding
Conversation
I
feel the inner confusion
Much deeper than what
I’ve
ever felt before
Control is just a word
until
you lose it
It’s like the babbling brook
that
slowly erodes the
unmovable force
that
once was me
the rains come
the
brook gets higher,
the
erosion continues
perhaps there is peace,
if
I should decide to go with
the
flow.
That would be nice, but
for
some ungodly reason
I
can’t
I just can’t
Shattered Mirror
Sometimes,
I feel as though I am a mirror
others
look into and take out what is
best
in me
leaving the rest behind,
the
shattered unwanted pieces that
are
me too.
MISTY SHADOWS
Morning
mist
clinging
to my window,
like
a salamander
to
the wall
of
a swimming pool
sensing
his demise.
Peering
through the dense fog,
seeing
only dark shadows,
trying
to make sense
of
a fuliginous world,
I realize,
my
tears are adding
to
the darkness.
I may never
again
see the light of day,
as it once was.
