Publication News: "Called Home"

I'm happy to report on Poetry Friday that a poem of mine, "Called Home," has been published at Unlost Journal's Issue #30: The Motivation of Winter. Link here.  I won't say too much before you read it, but this one borrows language from Southern obituaries.

It's my second publication at Unlost; the first was "You Keep Me Waiting in a Truck" in Issue #28.

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The roundup of Poetry Friday posts is at Molly Hogan's blog, Nix the Comfort Zone, on February 17th.

Comments

[Linda Mitchell]

I love this poem! How wonderful....the repetition of "Let's say" and, "Let's not say." And, all the different references to heaven and after life. Fantastic!

[Susan]

Thanks so much, Linda! This one was percolating for a while, and I’m glad it found a home.

[Linda]

Such a beautiful poem and a wonderful way to celebrate someone's passing. Congratulations on your publications!

[Susan]

Than you for your kind words, Linda!

[Irene Latham]

Congratulations on this latest publication! I confess: I love the creativity of euphemisms. Sometimes we need a soft landing. I've also lived in the southeastern US for most of my life, so that probably explains a lot. Let's say your poem is the absolute truth. So lovely!

[Linda Baie]

Congratulations, Susan. I love the creation of ways to say goodbye, and the small bits about this person, a celebration of who he was.

[Kay McGriff]

Congratulations! I love the poem. Those euphemisms are great.

[Karin Fisher-Golton]

Congratulations! I love how your poem shows how much is communicated indirectly about this topic.

[Susan T.]

Irene, thanks so much. I miss the South and my hometown! I was just back there for the first time in seven years or so.

Linda, yes, "ways to say goodbye" is a good way of phrasing it. Thanks for reading!

Kay, thank you for visiting and for your kind words.

Karin, indirect communication is key in this poem. I hadn't thought about it that way. Thanks!

[Rose Cappelli]

Congratulations on your publication! Loved your cento.

[Susan T.]

Thanks, Rose! I enjoyed putting it together.

[Bridget Magee]

Congratulations on this publication, Susan! At the risk of being too grave, let's just say you put the fun in funeral announcements. "Mississippians hardly ever die..." hee-hee. :)

[Heidi Mordhorst]

Susan, you are the master of the found, the stitched, the cobbled, the beautiful recycled. I love the "let's say/let's not say" and what an ending.

[Mary Lee]

I liked your commentary almost as much as your poem. Almost. Because your poem was fantastic!

[Alan j Wright]

Susan, your poem reminded me of a list I once compiled in a notebook of all the euphemisms we surround death with to avoid using that very term. What an inspired act on your part to research obituraries prior to writing your poem. Our processes are important. As Heidi, you have done masterly work with 'found' words.

[Susan T.]

"At the risk of being too grave..." Bridget, that made me laugh. Thanks for reading!

Heidi, aw, shucks, thank you so much! In college a friend from a tiny town in Tennessee got the town's newspaper each week, and how I wish I still had copies. I made sure to pop into her room on the day it arrived so I could read it for the wonderful expressions and language.

Mary Lee, thank you! I really do like found language. I've been studying Spanish for years, and a future goal is to try a "found language/idioma encontrado" in Español. We'll see...

Alan, I had a list going, too! The title of the poem was originally "Let's Write This," but then "Called Home" hit me out of the blue. I chose that one because it's yet another euphemism and because I think about my hometown often.

[jama]

Wonderful poem -- a moving tribute that says a lot about the comfort of euphemisms with a Southern twist. Congratulations!

[Karen Edmisten]

Susan, let's say that I want to congratulate you on "Called Home." Let's say I love it. Let's not say that I am a terrible whistler. Let's say I will whistle, I will try, and I will think of B. when I do.

Let's say thanks for sharing this. (And let's also say that "You Keep Me Waiting in a Truck" was equally impressive.)

[Susan T.]

Thanks, Jama! I was glad this piece found a home.

Yass, Karen! That's the spirit. Thanks so much for your kind words.

[Carol Varsalona]

Susan, the positivity that you share in Called Home is so refreshing. You second published home is great as well.

[Michelle Kogan]

Congrats on the publication of your beautiful visionary poem Susan! I especially like your "Let’s say" carried through and all the alternatives. Also like these lines,
"made a smooth landing in bumpy weather on that day."
"and passed into the next dimension."
Thanks for sharing!

[PATRICIA J FRANZ]

Congratulations on the publication! Isn't it incredible, all the euphemisms we have for death? I love how you used the alternating "Let's not say... Let's say" qualifiers.

[Susan T.]

Carol, Michelle, and Patricia, thanks so much for reading! I am looking forward to catching up with the rest of the work in this issue of Unlost. There are some cool collages & art work, too.

[Carol J. Labuzzetta]

Congratulations, Susan. Your poem is wonderful - it captures much of what should and shouldn't be said when someone dies. It is optimistic. It is loving. It remembers B. in a positive way. Thank you for sharing your beautiful creation.

[Susan T.]

Carol, thank you so much for reading! My Southern-newspaper-reading habit gave me lots to work with.

[Molly Hogan]

It's fascinating to read about how this poem evolved -- a birth from a gathering of obituaries! Like so many others noted, the "let's say" "Let's not say" repetition works so well. Congratulations to you and thanks for sharing!

[Susan T.]

Yes, the origin story in the obits! Thank you for reading, Molly, and for hosting the roundup.

[Denise Krebs]

Congratulations, Susan. I love your cento from the obituaries. What a clever title and theme for the poem. "Let's not say B. died" is a great beginning. What a lot of ways to say death without saying it.

[Susan T.]

Thanks, Denise! My fellow Southerners really do have a way with words. I miss hearing their stories every day, but am grateful that I can visit on occasion.