Publicat de: leonard oprea | 20 August 2013

JEFF HOWE – A GENUINE VOICE of the AMERICAN POETRY


leonard oprea

JEFF HOWE – A GENUINE  VOICE of the AMERICAN POETRY

A Short Bio

Oh, let’s see. My name is Jeff Howe and I like to write sometimes, mostly when the mood strikes, I guess, which really sort of lets on that I don’t do it for a living.

I have written poetry, fiction, blog entries, even advertising content, but there’s none of that here.  These are all books of compilations of some of my work.

There’s love poetry, light poetry, dark poetry, poetry that deals with death, life and relationships.  Some of it is autobiographical, and some of it is downright humorous.

There’s also short stories, both in prose poetry form and regular prose.  I rather enjoy stories that have a neat twist at the end (like the Twilight Zone), so I have incorporated those into my own work.

There’s also commentary to be found in some of the introductions and in the essays I included in Hallucination of Majestic Elephants, Echoes from the Antechamber and Patterns at the Periphery.

I have entered poetry contests and fiction contests with some success.  I have also been a member of several online poetry review sites, but that has lapsed somewhat recently.

I do not write erotic poetry or stories, nor do I write anything having to do with demons, vampires, werewolves or anything occultic.  I am a firm believer in the idea that a good story will always entertain without having to include prurient or occultic materials.  Additionally, the language I use could be rated no worse than PG 99.9% of the time.  If you have any questions about the other .1%, just email me.

I am originally from Maine, went to college in Massachusetts, did a hitch in the US Army where I met my wife.  We returned to Maine in 1987 and have lived here ever since.  We have two sons and a town government that keeps increasing our property taxes in outrageous fashion.

Just a regular guy.

Hope this tells you enough to pique your interest.  See ya ‘round the web.

***

The Big and Glorious

I see the friends I knew
From very long ago
We wore baseball on our brows
Held frogs upon our knees
And lived in intense moments
Of bliss and vivid boredom
But always on the move
As we dreamed the big and glorious
To play beneath the lights

Until there came a day that
We noted with rapt interest
As girls began to bloom
To sprout their precious daisies
Their bodies morph to violins
Yet we knew not how to bow
So just stammered now and then
And dreamed the big and glorious
Alone between the sheets

A desk became our landing strip
For years of know absorption
From fuzzy peach to bully beard
We sat for decades through the day
And tried to figure out the way
We thought we’d like to go
We looked for signs to point us
Toward the big and glorious
With most of time ahead

Then we played the hokey pokey
Musical chairs and skip to my lou
As we grabbed the metal horns
And rode the granite bull
For all it was worth until
The padding of slippered feet
Brought the patter of little feet
And we saw the big and glorious
In an unexpected way

And now that roads are longer
In the darkened rear view mirror
Than in the clearing windshield
We see the big and glorious
In shape and size and color
In forms not thought to be
The stuff that dreams are made from
But what we make ourselves
And what we choose to see

***

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