It seems my last post was premature. This website/blog isn’t running full speed. For some reason it will not accept comments. I have contacted tech support and hopefully it will be resolved soon! Thank you for your patience.
But if you want to comment now, you can do it on Facebook.
Bobbi Holmes
This past week the tech folks have been making some changes to my websites, so until today no new comments from readers were posted. But they tell me it’s finished, so…I’m back!!
While waiting for the tech people to finish their work I wasn’t idle. We completed the paperback versions of The Ghost and the Halloween Haunt—in large print and regular paperback. While the eBook version will not be released until August 31, 2019, you can order the paperbacks now!
For those eBook readers, if you haven’t pre-ordered you can pre-order now at all the venues, including the iTune store.
As many of you know, my 91-year old mother lives with us. She’s frequently sharing with me some treasure she has saved. A few years ago it was a poem I had written when I was in elementary school, about some dog I never had.
In Junior High Mom gave me a little book of poems called, A Cup of Sun, by Joan Walsh Anglund. I practically wore that book out—reading and rereading the poems. In fact, I was so familiar with her work that when the US Post Office screwed up and put out the Maya Angelou postage stamp with a poem practically identical to Andlund’s, I immediately knew something was amiss. (Anglund was very gracious about the whole thing.)
Anglund sparked my interest in poetry. Teenage girls are notorious for their passionate emotions. While I wasn’t as emotional as some teenage girls I knew back then, the emotions I felt were often expressed in poetry. I wrote some pretty sappy poems in those days.
When I had children I began writing poems about motherhood, which I eventually published.
Most of my poems were short—in the spirit of how Angelou had inspired me as a child. But there were several rather long ones, two of which hang in my mother’s bedroom. One was written for my father and the other for Mom.
I don’t profess to be a great poet by any stretch of the imagination, but poetry has always been part of my repertoire.