Category Archives: Death

VOICES IN WINTER: PATRICE MELNICK AND CLARE L. MARTIN

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

READINGS OF ORIGINAL WORKS (POETRY AND CREATIVE NONFICTION)
BY PATRICE MELNICK AND CLARE L. MARTIN

Warm up with words;
coffee, tea, hot cocoa & espresso—
… or keep it cool
                with gelato!

HOSTED BY
CARPE DIEM!
GELATO-ESPRESSO BAR
812 Jefferson Street
Lafayette

February 4th, 2012
7 pm to 8:30 pm

Patrice Melnick’s memoir, Turning Up the Volume, (Xavier Press) was published in 2005 and a collection of her essays is forthcoming in 2012 from Catalyst Book Press. Her work has appeared in numerous literary journals including Grain, Buffalo Bones and Prism International. Melnick taught at Xavier University in New Orleans and at the University of New Orleans. She holds degrees from the University of Texas at Austin and the University of Alaska, Fairbanks. Following Hurricane Katrina, Melnick opened Casa Azul Gifts in Grand Coteau and started a literary reading and open mic series. In 2010, she established the nonprofit Festival of Words Cultural Arts Collective Inc.

Clare L. Martin is a poet-mother-wife; a graduate of the University of Louisiana at Lafayette. Martin’s poetry has appeared in Avatar Review, Poets and Artists and The Centrifugal Eye, among others. She has been nominated for Dzanc Books’ Best of the Web (2011) for Best New Poets and Sundress Publication’s Best of the Net. Her work was selected for the 2011 Press 53 Spotlight anthology which features a select group of emerging poets and writers. Clare is a Teaching Artist through the Acadiana Center for the Arts.

Info: martin.clarel@gmail.com

Transformation

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

Something is happening to me—something big.  I cannot divulge what it is yet but I am posting this poem which addresses the notion of change and the power of dreams.  

It was first published in Referential Magazine.

Haunted

by Clare L Martin


I am kept by crows.
They beckon out of sleep,

calling come, come
be transformed.

Crow-by-crow
line up in dreams,

punctuating visions.
Such an omen inspires.

A crow told me:

Let me be a whorl of darkness—
Let me be a fist in the sun.

The crow on the wire
is a keeper of silence.

What a crow gathers
becomes soot and nothing more.

I am in the night. I am in it
as though it cloaks me–

I am winged
and feathered like the crow.

Sheer, yet impenetrable,
rising on wind.

Two Dreams of The White Horse (2005)

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

May 10, 2005

I dreamed of the White Horse again last night. In this new dream I was its master. On my command it leaped high fences topped with barbwire and lay still without breathing in tall grass to escape detection of the mafioso hunting me. When I’d fled the murderers, I strode into the house of The Don and walked directly to him. He was a thin, old man in loose clothing without a single gray hair. I whispered in his ear. The breathless hitmen falling over themselves to reach me were told: “Leave this woman alone.”

The dream that follows is the one I had February 5, 2005, which was my introduction to the symbol of the White Horse. I think this first dream of the White Horse could have been the awareness I had been chasing illusions and this second dream indicated I’d reached some mastery over my life.

Chasing the White Horse –Dream of 2/5/05

I had a psychotic break and was out of my mind for a year or many years. The years were black pages. I had to be placed in a secluded, secret house and attended by several plain-clothes, patronizing nurses. My husband divorced me and remarried a beautiful blond woman. My daughter simply forgot me. My ex had more children with the woman. I saw him and he was indifferent toward me. He said now, with the new wife, he knew what love really was and that the sex with his new beautiful wife was fantastic and meaningful. The most significant people in my life were unreachable, despite all of my efforts to remind them who I was and what I believed we meant to each other. I was totally lost and alone. The heart of my life dissolved. My loved ones had “moved on” and I was without direction. I had been fighting my demons only with the hope of returning to my family– but they were by choice through with me.

I wrote a book when I’d recovered my mind and gave the manuscript to the suspicious nurses reluctantly, but with desperate need that they would see that it got published. They smirked and took the manuscript. I escaped on a moonless night and ran barefooted through cold mud and unlocked several wooden gates to freedom.  I had no idea where I was. The place was rural and unfamiliar to me.

I attempted to be guided by constellations but my knowledge of the heavens was vague. I followed a river until I found a city. I entered a boutique that sold books, wind chimes and sterling silver picture frames. When a happy customer spoke to me I was surprised to learn I was famous. Many people had read the book and loved me but I didn’t know them and they meant nothing to me. I was helped my on my journey across America with money, shelter, clothes and food.

I arrived at my parent’s home. There was a wild, white stallion tearing up the lawn. My father held it tenuously by a thin string. The White Horse broke free before I could close the gates. I chased the White Horse. It ran into traffic and caused a calamitous accident but was unharmed. The horse bucked and galloped through my hometown and breezed into a weird pastel colored subdivision that looked like rows of storybook castles. I chased the White Horse into a house with an elaborate checker-pattern inlaid wood spiral staircase that rose into infinite space. I caught glimpses of the horse travelling upwards but it was far away. I was tired of running, so I climbed the staircase on my hands and knees. I became dizzy from looking up. Space tightened. I became disoriented. I couldn’t tell anymore which way was up and which way was down. The stairwell shut around me like a coffin. I woke up confused and hopeless.

Year Eight of The Writing Life Begins

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

SUN RISES IN A NEW YEAR

March 15th, 2004, our family suffered a loss–the death of my son, Adam.  In my grieving, I reflected on my life and his life and thought: “What can I do with my life to honor him?” I had always believed myself a writer but struggled with discipline, leaving many things unlearned and unwritten. I thought back then: “If I can do “this one thing” to the best of my ability and honor (not neglect) my God-given gifts, then such a choice would be the best way I could honor Adam.” 

Adam’s death, although hard to bear, was the catalyst for choosing to follow this life-path with dedication and passion.  I have grown personally and have had numerous wonderful opportunities via The Writing Life.  Dear Adam gave so much and continues to bless…gone from us almost 8 years. He would be 28 this year. Wow.

And although much of my posting on the Internet is self-promotion, I think it is important to share this story and the bountiful blessings I have had in these remarkable eight years. Self-promotion is necessary because I want you to read my creative works.

I want to move you with my poetry.

I have had many struggles—some from which many people could not recover. I have recounted many here in previous postings, if you want to look back.  Right now I am looking forward which I believe is necessary for true healing.

I am grateful to God-Creator-Universal Force for Good-Power of Love or whatever it is that I do believe in for pulling me through, shoring up my confidence and for putting people in my path who have aided me with loving care, support and friendship.

I am excited about 2012. I am a mother of a 16-year-old who is smart and beautiful. She inspires me everyday.  I am married to a loving, strong and honest man.  I couldn’t ask for more, but for me there will be more in 2012—more writing, more reading, more learning and more teaching.  The momentum is with me as I continue my lifework.

I am on a path and I do not allow much to divert me from it.   

 

Thanks for reading. 

~Clare

A Blessing

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

A Good Fire

 ”A Good Fire“

Blessings for all who are in need, and gratitude for the comforts we have and the life given to us.

~Clare

Occupy the Audience

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

This is me. Please enjoy.

 

Thanks to Jonathan Penton of Unlikely Stories and to Cite des Arts.

 

 

Quickie before bed, well…

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

I was asked to participate in the Acadiana Center for the Arts DAF FY2012 AWARDS CELEBRATION for grant recipients held Monday—I was asked to read for this as one part of a showcase of local artists who are in partnership with the AcA.

As part of the entertainment segment of the “Celebration” there was an excerpt performed of an original contemporary dance piece “I’VE STOPPED HAVING THAT DREAM I’VE BEEN HAVING” choreographed by Paige Krause (which will be performed in its entirety November at the AcA.) Rose Hoffman Cormier and Jessica Jouclard, from a locally produced musical, sang a rousing bit about road kill! There were two of us poets—Kelly Clayton and myself.

It was such a thrill to be invited to this celebration. The state grants awarded in this ceremony, the people who implement the arts programs throughout the parishes the AcA serves, cultivate our creativity-rich Louisiana culture, making economic gains for the Acadiana area and beyond, and enhancing value for our state. These arts programs enrich, inspire, educate, and transform people.

It was a joy to hear Kelly read. I love Kelly’s work—it is clear, often tender and truthful, always strong and lyrical—hers is well-imagined art.  She is a passionate woman and writes with that great passion needed to process an experience into art.

The James Devon Moncus Theatre is a great space and this was only the second time I’ve read there. I read recently for the 100,000 Poets for Change event on September 24th and Monday.

On Monday I read three poems: “Remembering,” “Winters at the Lake” and “I Have Learned to Hold My Tongue.”  I was a little nervous but I think my voice was strong, although I was breathy.  I joked a bit with the audience and spoke plainly about my turn to The Writing Life seven years ago after a family member (my son) died, as a way to process grief.

I think I recall too that I said that I embraced my gift and honored it so that I could do what I was born to do—be a poet.  That’s not arrogant. It’s the most humble thing I’ve ever spoken.

The reading felt good.  I wanted to share poems that were specifically Louisiana-themed, although “I Have Learned…” is not. So many people who are arts-connected were there and gave both Kelly and me  heartfelt compliments and comments about the readings.

I was in a swoon and may have said silly things! I am still in a swoon–it’s Thursday and Monday is still on my mind!

A few months ago I bought blank business cards from Office Depot and found a template in Word that helped me make a personalized card for myself. It simply reads: Clare L. Martin POET and has my contact info. I was able to mingle with the recipients and guests after the program, and was asked for contact info so I handed several out.

Seven years ago, when I made my commitment to The Writing Life, I asked myself, “What is the smartest way to become successful at anything?”  I decided to treat it like a job. Give myself respect. Put in long hours. Always push myself to be greater than myself. Don’t compete with others but with myself—I can be better than me!  Learn as much as I can and let experience deepen me–say yes when the Boss asks you to do something.

I have said yes to almost every opportunity that has come my way in these past seven years.  I have accumulated a ton of raw material and finished works that I am actively and successfully marketing. Yes, I made silly “poet” cards to hand out to people I meet. It‘s quirky and I get weird looks sometimes but it is a true fact that I am a poet, and as a professional poet I need to be prepared and ready when opportunities to connect and share arise. 

Congrats to the Acadiana area DAF 2012 grants recipients and thank you for giving so much to the communities you serve through arts programming.

So much more could be said…time for bed.

Hello. My Name is Clare.

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

Hello. My name is Clare.  Welcome (again) to my website.

I purchased the domain http://clarelmartin.com/ today and will be writing here with more frequency. I hope I can count you as a reader.

I will muse upon the writing life, real-life happenings, sleep revelations, waking prophecies, earth, wind, fire—things I am passionate about and the few things I hate with passion.  

Certainly, I will try to keep it interesting and valuable.

Stay tuned…

Peace.  

Clare

Year 7 of The Writing Life (and a Rededication)

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

Tomorrow is the 7th anniversary of Adam’s death. 

He was born premature and had health challenges all of his life. It’s a long, long story. I don’t mind talking about it, and I have, but what I want to share is that when he passed I was grief-stricken–but very aware–that I was blessed to have been his mother. 

After Adam died, I turned to writing to assuage my grief. I turned to writing to recover.  Seven years on a dedicated path into the writing life, I can say there are many amazing writing-related happenings happening that would never have happened if not for Adam. Today I feel like I am living up to my promise to Adam, made seven years ago, to honor the gifts I was given and to write in his memory.  

I would like to tell you some of the great news that I am bursting to share.

First I would like to say thank you to Press 53’s publisher, Kevin Morgan Watson, and Press 53’s poetry editor, Tom Lombardo, for selecting my work for inclusion in the 2011 Spotlight Anthology. The 2011 Spotlight anthology will showcase a select group of emerging writers in a print anthology published by Press 53 that will be released June 1, 2011. Ten of my poems will appear with selections from two other poets and five short story writers.  It’s a wonderful thing and I couldn’t be happier.

I have work forthcoming in The Centrifugal Eye. My poem “Note to Self” is selected to appear in the next issue which will be released in April.  

I will be reading with poet/novelist/teacher/funky-hip-mama Lana Wiggins at Casa Azul on April 21st.  Lana will likely read from her novel and I will be reading new poems.  I love having this annual reading to look forward to.  It gets me writing in anticipation so that I can share new work. I thank Patrice Melnick of Festival of Words Cultural Arts Collective, Inc. for allowing us the opportunity again! This will be the third year Lana and I will read together in April—National Poetry Month, at Casa Azul Gifts in Grand Coteau.

I am a participant in a new writing group in Grand Coteau. The group is directed by the very creative and adept writer and entrepreneur Patrice Melnick, and is sponsored by the Festival of Words Cultural Arts Collective, Inc.    ~It feels like home. ~

I am again contributing writing to the Acting Up (in Acadiana) theatre company for a new project called CARAVAN.  I submitted two short, strange bits and may have more in me.  We shall see.  

And last but not least, I have kept this “hush-hush” so as not to jinx anything but I will give you a little peek into my closely held secret—I am expanding my role as a “working poet” into that of a “teaching poet.” There is a wonderful opportunity which may come though for me this fall. I promise I will give you notice when I hear the official word. I am so ready. I am up with energy and full of ideas—so I sure hope I will be allowed to expand my role through this (possible) new opportunity.

I am ebullient. Great energy is arising within and without. The momentum is with me, it seems.  I dedicated my writing life seven years ago to Adam because he gave to me, and I rededicate my efforts in Adam’s memory and to my girl, Madelynne. They will always be miracles in my life.

New Publication

Posted on by Clare L. Martin

My poem “Premature” is up at Literary Mama as part of their “Desiring Motherhood” series.  I am so grateful this poem has a home at Literary Mama. It is an older poem and one that is close to my heart.

Thanks to the editors for selecting my work.