Spirits In Peace Blog

Cover by Margrit Roussos

Poets may certainly be a breed apart. Often, we do not know where our work comes from; we do not necessarily sit down and think, “Today I am going to write a poem about trees” or whatever the case might be. Inspiration may at times be quite apparent, yet at times no direct motivating factor for our work is in evidence. It is as if we have an other-worldly, spiritual connection, and poems that are perhaps already written somewhere in the ether are simply channelled through us. Some of the finest poets in history no doubt have acted as scribes for such pieces. My friend and business partner Richard Doiron is a fine example. Many of his pieces definitely have that connection to the ether, making him a poet, novelist and biographer of the highest order, and I have seen his poems write themselves in a matter of minutes, with no editing or revision required.

The truly creative poet is often misunderstood by those who simply write poetry, often having to slave over a few lines in order to perfect them. They are sometimes shunned by the literati, who may be either envious of their abilities or possibly afraid of how their own meagre pennings will pale by comparison. The result is sometimes the alienation of the very best from the literary world. Many eventually sell out, often diminishing their abilities in order to be published and/or receive financial favour. But a stalwart few refuse to do so. Richard Doiron is a case in point.

This remarkable poet has many stories of such alienation, and long before he began to pen My Life As An Alien, I had already heard many of his stories over the course of the past few years, while in the process of developing this website ( www.spiritsinpeace.com). His colourful tales were and continue to be fascinating – a wonderful mixture of a life filled with outdoor adventure, actual sightings of alien spacecraft, and glimpses into the shenanigans of the literary world.

But to see, all in one place, the life story of a man who is undoubtedly the most prolific poet of all time and one of the highest calibre is to be awe-struck. The reader will no doubt laugh in some places, cry in others, and sometimes simply nod his or her head in understanding, for Mr. Doiron has a knack of drawing one into a life which has been, in many ways, extraordinary…

Writers, and in particular poets, are an oft-misunderstood species. Many do not conceive of us as having work days, preferring to see us as retired, unemployed, or non-productive. Yet poets are the most quoted of all authors, and the entire world claims to understand the concept of living one’s passion, as many talk shows have promoted over the last decade or so.

Richard Doiron has most assuredly done exactly that, knowing from the get-go that he was born to write. Over a literary career that now spans a good forty-five years, he has never once entertained the notion of selling out, of doing other than that to which he was born, or of lowering his standards to fit in with a pretentious and elitist circle, which is too often composed of and spear-headed by those who write poetry, as opposed to creative poets. Although he has achieved noteworthy success abroad, being published besides the likes of Nelson Mandela and the Dalai Lama, and awarded many prestigious prizes for his work, the recognition to which he is entitled in his home province has eluded him. Sadly, that is too often the case…

When one peruses the pages of this autobiographical work, one will gain a rapid and unmistakable understanding of the horrid strings that are often attached to climbing the wobbly ladder of the literary establishment and of the price one pays for not accepting terms which may mandate the selling of one’s soul.

Mr. Doiron has his soul very much intact, never having sold a single iota thereof. The scores of people from various parts of the world with whom this outstanding poet, biographer, and novelist corresponds on a daily basis can attest not only to his brilliance as a writer, but to his absolute integrity as a human being.

If you are interested in learning more about My Life As An Alien, go to the link: http://www.lulu.com:80/content/paperback-book/my-life-as-an-alien/6707272 There, you can take a look at the very intriguing cover and even preview several pages. And you will find yourself hooked.

Photograph Courtesy of BigFoto

There is something about spring that, for me at least, gives rise to quick burst of energy. Winter is long and slow, and I sometime set myself to work on time-consuming tasks, but at the first whiff of spring, my energy level kicks up a notch. I want nothing to do with anything long and labourious, and prefer to work with more speed and intensity. Perhaps I simply want to abandon the computer and head outside, even though the air is still a mite chilly. Perhaps, like the nature I see around me, I am reborn in some sense and more childlike in my attention span.

But, in any case, spring always brings forth a burst of poetry. I like to experiment with forms, and one of my more recent forays has been into the area of tanka, with the assistance of Richard Doiron, a definite expert in such matters. I had attempted this form in the past, but from him I learned a great deal.

The changeable weather and emergence of spring flora together with the inevitable backward glimpses of winter at this time of year inspired some recent tanka.

her poem painted
- tanka x 5-

silently cursing
the apparently endless
blizzards this winter
surely an indication
of a planet in distress

her spirits sinking
on noting the ankle-deep
early spring snowfall
as good as fertilizer
for emerging daffodils

her concept of spring
does not in her books include
unwelcome snowfall
considered an obvious
redundancy in her mind

april erupting
in glorious colours she sees
her poem painted
with saffron of crocuses
staining each verse and stanza

colourful darwin
tulips earning her praises
their scarlet cheerful
unlike bloodstains of battle
wherein darker sides revealed

©Carol Knepper