Here’s a repeat of a post from last month about my e-book, GOOSE LAKE. I’ve shared two or three samples from the collection of prose followed by poem. This one is inspired by the turtles that sun themselves on pretty days on the rocks at water’s edge along my back yard. There are usually more than twenty of them and they all splash off into the lake when I come too close to take a peek or try for a picture. Click the cover on the left for Amazon.com. The one on the right takes you to Barnes & Noble.
During the poetry workshop last week in Honesdale, we talked about e-publishing. Sandy Asher and I also included two guest editors in our most recent series of WRITERS AT WORK. The pros of self-publishing on the Internet include the freedom to publish our own work if we feel strongly moved to do so. One of the cons is that you have to do your own promotional work. So far I don’t give myself high marks in this department. I’m pleased with the writing. It feels like some of my best work. But there are a lot of books listed by the online stores and mine is just one of them. Unless someone looks for it by title or is interested in poetry about nature, it isn’t likely to find a large audience until and unless I figure out how to create one.
I hope that in the next month I’ll find a little time to try my hand at promoting GOOSE LAKE. If you look it up and it appeals to you, I hope you’ll get a copy. It costs $3.99. If you like the book and don’t mind leaving a review, those are appreciated. It also helps, I’m told, to “like” it. Perhaps you know someone who might enjoy the collection. Please let them know that it’s available. Thanks! Here’s the sample that I shared last month. Before long I’ll put up another one.
What Was That?
David L. Harrison
If the lake were a mouth wide open to swallow sky and popcorn clouds, the narrow strip of land stretched tightly around it would be its lips. Seeds planted by wind and obliging birds sprout tangled gardens of saplings, and weeds run amok. In rocky places, stones shoulder to shoulder wear sunbathing turtles like bronze helmets.
The lips of the lake never sleep. Life and death meet in the twisted underbrush where herons stand like statues of herons awaiting the unwary. A kingfisher that looks like it needs a haircut watches the shallows for a minnowy snack.
Geese defiant with motherhood hiss away foxes with a hankering for gosling. Finches flit from limb to bank, ignoring sleepy-eyed bullfrogs that need their rest till sundown.
Ducks catapult into the water
and herons’ legs trail like kite tails
in their sudden flight to
Flat shells smack the lake.
Bony heads resurface,
stare at their forsaken thrones.
What was that?
A dog barked,
a child ran,
a turtle slipped.
on the lip of the lake,
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