Skunk Summer, Love, and Poetry
Those of you participating in the Summer of Love Giveaway, good luck. Those of you who aren’t, should be!
A wonderful group of authors has been sharing love through books, gift cards, and goodies of all kinds for several years now, and I’m delighted to be participating. For extra entries, visit all of us and perform some simple task. Here at Return to Rio, just read this blog and leave a comment when you finish.
Although two of my romances, Unattainable and A Love Beyond, will bring you to the searing south Texas heat, the ‘skunk summer’ mentioned in the title evokes love of a totally different kind—love that fills our lives and lingers, regardless of the state of our romantic love journey. Or journeys.
You’ll find Skunk Summer in my collection of poetry, Always the Moon, on sale this week for .99, along with poems from every strand of life. Living brings a lot to love—from those sizzling encounters along the way to the incomparable love that shoots through your chest when you hug a child close.
Not every poem is a love poem, of course—because that’s just not how life is. One of my shortest poems echoes in my head most loudly right now, and it’s a poem about loss, and going on. I wrote it years ago, yet with my husband’s recent passing, it seems a page torn right out of my life and so many others’ …this being life, sometimes you cry. But before and after the tears, love gets you through.
During a college English class, one of my Lit professors proclaimed that women were incapable of writing poetry after their mid-twenties or after marriage, if ever. Now, disregarding the political correctness or incorrectness or theoretical considerations, I’m curious. I’ve written few poems in recent years, focusing instead on romances and other projects. But to me, poetry is still very much the language of life—and love, during the summer or any other season.
Please feel free to comment however you choose on this post—but if you have thoughts on poetry—it’s relevance, if any, to you personally, for example—I’d love to hear. Do you or did you write poetry?
But if that’s just too close to homework—hey. How’s summer treating you this year?
(And for those with kids going off, coming home or just close to your hearts this summer, The Children Go is for you.)