Monday, May 2, 2011

Featured Book - Violin Memories

Violin Memories
Michael Bruce Foster

"Michael Bruce Foster wrote this book of poems over four different decades. It covers subjects both serious and tragic, containing subject matter that is thoughtful as well as humorous. Some poems celebrate life, while others detail the difficulties and sadness of illness and death, the stark reality of war, and events that occurred in his family life. His humor, sometimes subtle, other times outright funny, helps to balance the book, showing that we must all find reasons to go on in our lives, despite setbacks and obstacles. He proves that we should cherish our good memories, and survive the bad. His vivid words and emotions bring us inside what we read, making us a part of the images and stories he relates. In this collection, prepare to discover poems that will make you cry, laugh, and rejoice. Please enjoy and share them."
Michael Bruce Foster was born and raised in California. He spent twenty-one years in the USAF, including several bases overseas. His work has been published in The City College of San Francisco Literary Magazine, Mobius, The Poetry Mazazine, Pasque Petals, and The Rapid City Journal. His first poetry book, "Violin Memories", was published in September of 2010, by Publish America. He lives in Rapid City, South Dakota, with his wife Ruth, and two youngest daughters, Kamerra and Kolleen. 
I was fortunate enough to meet Michael Foster at the Rapid City book signing on the 16th of April.  He was kind enough to send me his information for his book of poetry as well as two poems.
In Sudan
Children dying in the sun.
Their bones burning through thin skin.
Mothers crying for each one,
Tears, hot dust takes with the wind.
Horror strikes our helpless hearts,
We hug our own, feed them more,
And knowingly we take part
In forgetting there is war.
We must raise our voices high,
Make them strong around the world.
Take action, not just imply,
All humanity unfurled.
Children dying in the sun,
Mothers crying for each one.
Tears, hot dust takes with the wind,
Their bones burning through thin skin.
Growing Older
With some destress I must confess
That we are growing older.
My beard and hair are gray
and your hair is almost there.
Aches and pains when it rains,
Feet that crack like old rubber.
Shapes and sizes, some surprises,
stomachs a glass blower would admire.
Still, I love you. Your nose, I suppose,
Is as cute as when we first met.
But most of all, your soul shines bright,
At night, when I hold you so close
That aging stops to listen to
our words of love for each other.

Click below to buy  (Only available in paperback)

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