Sunday, April 8, 2007

Tribute To Laura

For today's posting I thought I'd pay homage to a fellow editor and writer. I'd like to congratulate Laura Hird on the release of her latest book, Dear Laura, Letters From A Mother To Her Daughter by showcasing it.

When writer Laura Hird first left home to study in London, her mother kept in touch with a stream of letters, both deeply moving and extremely funny. June Hird - thwarted actress, insatiable reader and self-confessed 'constipated romantic' - is her daugther's staunchest supporter and harshest critic. She clearly struggled with 'empty nest' feelings of loss, grief, freedom and pride. Her letters are full of advice, scolding and encouragement, gossip about friends and family as well as comments on culture and current affairs, hopes for her daughter and regrets about her own life. In the stunned space following the death of both of her parents, Laura Hird began to re-read her mother's letters. Hearing her mother's voice ringing from the pages, she begins to examine the relationship between parents and child and confront her own feelings of guilt and grief. As Laura says, "This book is dedicated to anybody who has ever had to let go of the thing they love the most."The book can be found along with her two other novels, Born Free ("Rebel Inc") and Hope And Other Urban Tales at:

She is currently showcasing my complete submission-set of five poems in this issue of her popular literary site Laura Hird. Here's a couple of examples:

Orchid's For Her Hothouse

Dear Samantha,

The orchids that accompany this letter are from a hothouse in Delaware. At least, that's what the florist says. He's the same guy who insists that the social interaction between individuals of varying demographics over the limited space on this planet should be settled with enough squabbling to counterweight the power of the State. But he smokes a pipe so what else would you expect. Sometimes no one speaks to him for days. They just make their purchases and leave the correct change on the shiny counter after giving him a supercilious stare. You're nothing like him. You're an idea that replicates itself like a virus. Your symptoms pass from mind to mind and can be found in the latest fashion statement. These orchids are intended to be my way of saying I miss your little bare pantry and the way your farmhouse smells. I miss putting my Balinese bench where your corral is. What I guess I really mean is I need you to recommend my next set of power tools. And the stamp in the snow is definitely foreign. Why even my elves stay up all night imaging backyard barbecues. Sure I have my faults and I'll always be dishonest. But I'm getting much better at predicting when I'm about to do something stupid.

Life, Portrayed By Intentions Blind Faith

Forget that version, here's what your upgrade will look like:

- Riddles carved out of stories about gender benders.

- A rue accused of skipping a couple of month's child support.

- The first prairie fence to boycott the "No Trespassing" signs.

- A diamond ring that is swollen with the intricacy of faith.

- The whole state of Vermont hammering away at bedrock.

- A Poseidon adventure intended to lodge in the throat.

- Postcards from one of history's crudest hideouts.

- A war holding up tourist at gun-point.

- The arm of a catastrophe, broken in two places.

- A man caught stiffing the rear of a cul-de-sac.

- A bus of strangers, in the third person.

See the complete published set at:
Copyright 2007 by Maurice Oliver. All Rights Reserved.
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