Promoting Your Poetry!

Hello Fellow Poets!


I wanted to share a recent poem called "What the Sea Brings". I wrote this poem while vacationing on Martha's Vineyard and plan to save it for a later collection of water-themed poems. I came up with an idea to create free poetry postcards and spread them around at local bookstores, libraries and coffeehouses as well as to give them out at poetry readings. I thought I would share this poet promo idea with the other writers here, because it's such a great way to get your work out there and in the hands of potential readers. Vista Print has a good deal on oversized postcards that you can customize with designs and your poem on the back! Make sure you list your name, copyright date, and your writer's website address (if you have one) or an e-mail address where readers can contact you. Give it a try!

Spread poetry widely and often!

What the Sea Brings

Water secrets,
spread from depths of salty blue -
the sea washes clean
sandy edges and pebbled worlds.

Each wave laps
against the shore with pause -
the heartbeat of the land -
a reminder of stillness.

Boats in the harbor exchange glances,
conversing over sails -
voyages to the center of time.

Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2009

Cristina M. R. Norcross
Author of:
Land & Sea: Poetry Inspired by Art (2006, 2007)
The Red Drum (Pub. Date Nov. 2008)

Website: http://www.firkinfiction.com

Regular guest appearing on "The Sound of Ink" at The SpeakEasy Cafe on Blog Talk Radio:
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/speakeasycafe/2009/06/18/The-SpeakEasy-Cafes-Sound-of-Ink-Open-mic-Poetry-show
Thursdays @ 6pm Central/ 7pm Eastern

A Father's Day Poem

FOR MY FATHER

I am a storyteller because of your stories.
Sharing with me the fabric of our family,
characters come to life.
I imagine my grandfather and great grandfather
teaching you how to build train layouts
or how to play stick ball.
A rich history unfolds with each re-telling
of tradition and anecdote.

I may pretend to know each line,
but secretly I want to hear how the story ends
over and over,
until I commit my ancestors to memory –
the kind of knowing that comes
from faces being painted on a wall.

The mystery of life is happening right now,
in this swirl within a salt pond, you said.
We knelt by the edge of this tiny, aquatic universe
and shared a moment of awe for what God creates –
for how small we are in comparison
to the expansiveness of nature.

As I look at my sons,
I wonder what stories I will tell them about you,
to ensure that memory holds the key
to the wonder that is you –
my father.

You take pride in your projects,
regardless of the outcome.
You show me the miracle of small things every day.
Your eyes light up when you see me,
and you still pat me on the head.
I remember how you used to call me,
Little Person.
I still beam and glow.


Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2009
www.FirkinFiction.com