Earth Whispering: Not my battle

Sunday, October 29, 2023

Not my battle

Go to sleep, to wake up
from the bad dream of the day,
the stewing fear, torment
of being cast as enemy

I've told myself to not be taken in,
but evidently I have failed

This is not my battle,
This is not my battle,
This is not my battle,
Let it go.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 29, 2023

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Two big firsts!

I’m very excited to announce the publication of my latest book, Vessels. One big first is that this one is published by Schiffer Press, which is well known for its beautiful art books. The other big first is that this is a collaboration with my sister, Jennifer McCurdy, who is an amazing artist.

I’m delighted with the book. Our collaborative process was very inspiring. I feel the poems we chose bring out the lyricism of Jennifer’s vessels, and her vessels bring out the beauty of my poems. The process also brought out insights for both of us about our creative processes. Schiffer did a wonderful job of taking our design and making it sparkle, and were able to produce a book of a much higher quality than I have available through my self-publishing channels.

You can buy the book from Schiffer or from Amazon. Your positive review would also be of great value to me.

Old and new blogs

Navigating my blog

There are three ways to navigate my blog. One is with the search box, above.

Another is to look at the blog archive, which lists poems chronologically.

Or you can choose one of the thematic labels - this will display the poems I have labelled as addressing that theme. I confess, my labeling is not wholly consistent. Sometimes I've added a label and failed to go through and add it to older poems that would also fit it.

If you would like each of my poems to appear in your email shortly after it is written, you can enter your email address in the place, under the labels listing, where it says "follow by email."

About this blog

Here is the text I wrote when I first started this blog, back in January of 2011 (though I had composed it the previous summer. I still like it, and it's still true:

I want to speak as the air current speaks of pine, when it has flowed down the frost hollow and mingled with sun-touched needles, and emerges, cool and fragrant, on the path where we're riding. I want to speak as sun sparkles dance on water, not provoking an argument but simply being what they are. I don't want to speak from a platform, carefully constructed of credentials and connections, which you will trust others have evaluated and deemed me worthy to listen to, worthy of having an opinion. I don't want to create a polemic. I just want what has touched me to rustle in you like sun-blessed leaves lifted in the morning wind.

Sunday, October 29, 2023

Not my battle

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