Desiderata (so to speak) or What Poetry and I Mean To Each Other


I write about what faces the average human being in just living each and every day without too much pain or too much stress or too much anger and the urgency and challenge of coping with those things. I write about the comparisons between the huge things that make us happy and the small things that make us sad.  My poems call for us to see more, see further, be more and better and, again, more. I write about expectations and our ability to fulfill them or fail to do the same.

I write about relationships–the cruel, the complicated, the simple, the joyful, the sexy, the fearful, the painful, the intense. I write about what can go wrong, what does go wrong, how much beatings hurt and how much kisses heal. I write about the terrors and wonder of childhood, the terrors and wonder of aging. I write about sexuality, partnerships and marriages.

I write about music, dancing, reading, aging, cooking, sex. I write about how fear can destroy the mind and the feelings of anyone. I write about the intimidation of our peers, the strengths of our friends, the power of our enemies. I write about war and insects and the smell of clean clothes.

I write about God––how “we pray to a God we do not love for those we do love;”  about churches, priests, confessions, weddings and funerals. I write about a God we look for and seldom find. I write about my mother who was mad and my father who was not. I write about madness and how it can be contagious to those who come in contact with it.

In my newest collection, LEARNING BY ROTE, I speak as myself, someone who has been transformed by living  life full on–sometimes afraid, sometimes confident, often bewildered, willing to laugh at myself and cry for others.  The poems in LEARNING BY ROTE  are not for relaxation.  More accurately, they call the reader to pay attention, be mindful of what is seen and what is said around him/her.   I invite you to purchase the book, enjoy the poems and let me know, afterward, what you think.  email me atmartinanewberry@gmail.com

Martina  is available for readings, performances, workshops, and work in schools.  She can be reached at:  martinanewberry@gmail.com

7 thoughts on “Desiderata (so to speak) or What Poetry and I Mean To Each Other”

  1. A Medical Procedure

    Eyes wide shut
    To the stark horror
    Amputated imagination
    Discarded foreskins of decency
    Silicone augmented justifications
    Botox smiles
    Liposuction sensibilities
    Flat line responses

    Sleep comes and goes
    A specter haunting
    The waking hours
    Which daylight and clock hands
    Cannot control
    Zombies addicted
    To blue techno light
    And lukewarm flesh

    A microscopic world
    Of ineptitude
    Where the administration
    Of the antibiotic
    Is an onslaught
    And the blood is poisoned
    Equally
    By the disease and the cure

    Doctors of words
    Perform audiodectomies
    Empty newborn ideas of life
    Into the trash bins of irrelevance
    Suture idiocy onto common sense
    Creating a monstrosity
    Of impossible dysfunction
    And issue bills

    Uncomfortable office furniture
    And professional hacks
    Conspire to occlude
    Words of need
    Flowing from lips
    Bruised by speaking too much truth
    To the wrong people
    Far too long

    Bare feet tread
    Gieger counter concrete
    Irradiated dreams
    Of misshapen “what ifs”
    Peeping through keyhole
    Realities
    Hoping to glimpse
    Brighter tomorrows

    Inhaling the scent of now
    The new carpet smell
    Of the new world order
    Formaldehyde fresh
    Wilted American beauty roses
    Sweetened hemlock tea
    A hot knife to slit
    Cold wrists

    In the exhale lies
    The glorious past
    Of an oxygenated luxury
    Orgies of conspicuous excess
    Faint screams
    Of forgotten victims
    And the scent of wine
    Mixed with blood

    D Jones 2010

  2. Pretty word paintings of world conditions, doesn’t say anything about how to change them. Al Bates

  3. I’m still learning from you, but I’m improving myself. I absolutely love reading everything that is written on
    your website.Keep the posts coming. I loved it!

    • I can’t tell you what that means to me, but I’ll try. Not a day goes by that I don’t wonder why I’m still a writer, why I do this at all. I can’t sell a book to save my life, I wonder, with every blog or poem, if anyone is “out there” and if they’re reading anything I write or not. I tell myself I’m going to quit about 10 times a day, but I’m a writer and that seems to be impossible. What you’ve said has warmed and encouraged me today. Thank you. You’ve done more than you think.

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