This is my friend Jennifer Shepit’s take on D.H. Lawrence’s short poem, “Self-Pity.” I absolutely love it.
If you enjoy Jen’s moody, dreamlike style, then visit her Etsy shop here:
https://www.etsy.com/people/jenlshepit


This is my friend Jennifer Shepit’s take on D.H. Lawrence’s short poem, “Self-Pity.” I absolutely love it.
If you enjoy Jen’s moody, dreamlike style, then visit her Etsy shop here:
https://www.etsy.com/people/jenlshepit


I’m going along with the crowd today where “Jigsaw” (2017) is concerned; I concur entirely with the other reviews I’ve read. It’s a story fraught with logical problems, but it’s entertaining enough to please fans of the franchise (of whom I am one). Based on my own enjoyment of the movie, I’d rate it an 8 out of 10.
Yes, some of it doesn’t makes sense. And the twists and coincidences seem pretty forced. There was another problem for me, as well — at this point, the writers seem to have run out of ideas for the film series’ trademark moralizing booby traps. (The one involving a grain silo is particularly uninspired, and seems like something out a Bugs Bunny cartoon.)
But what the hell. I’d be lying if I said that this was a movie that didn’t distract and scare me. I think what attracts me to the “Saw” films is not the blood and gore. (Gory horror movies are a dime a dozen.) It’s the character concept behind their brilliant, merciless killer — he’s like a combination of James Moriarty, Rube Goldberg and one of the Inquisitors of old.
Besides, I still like the twists. They may be forced, but they always take me by surprise despite my best efforts to predict them.
And I think every movie is made better by the addition of Callum Keith Rennie. (He’s a shady, grizzled police detective here, though he’s far better than so cliched a role.) I’ve always thought Rennie was terrific — he deserves the lead role in some sort of extremely dark anti-hero film. (Are they remaking 2005’s “Constantine” anytime soon?)

Western History/Genealogy Department, Denver Public Library.

I’m honored to share here that the Vancouver-based Poetry Pacific published three of my poems today in its biannual issue: “This Windy Morning,” “Redbud Leaves,” and “Delaware Sheets.” You can find all three at the link below.
“This Windy Morning” envisions a ghost story for my adopted city of Roanoke, Virginia. “Redbud Leaves” is a very short nature poem I wrote while I lived among the hills of Northern Virginia, and “Delaware Sheets” is a short love poem that wrote a few years back. This third piece was published previously by Every Day Poets, Dead Snakes and UFO Gigolo.
I’m quite grateful to Editor-In-Chief Yuan Changming for selecting my work for publication. The Autumn Issue features outstanding work from 73 poets and three visual artists.
http://poetrypacific.blogspot.com/2017/11/3-poems-by-eric-robert-nolan.html
“The Fifth of November,” popular English folk poem
Remember, remember!
The fifth of November,
The Gunpowder treason and plot!
I know of no reason
Why the Gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot!
Guy Fawkes and his companions
Did the scheme contrive,
To blow the King and Parliament
All up alive.
Threescore barrels, laid below,
To prove old England’s overthrow.
But, by God’s providence, him they catch,
With a dark lantern, lighting a match!
A stick and a stake
For King James’s sake!
If you won’t give me one,
I’ll take two,
The better for me,
And the worse for you.
A rope, a rope, to hang the Pope,
A penn’orth of cheese to choke him,
A pint of beer to wash it down,
And a jolly good fire to burn him.
Holloa, boys! holloa, boys! make the bells ring!
Holloa, boys! holloa boys! God save the King!
Hip, hip, hooor-r-r-ray!

Illustrated Catalog of the Munich Annual Exhibition of Works of Art of All Nations.

Salem, Virginia, November 2017.








Here’s one for my to-do list — I need to learn the flute, call upon my Irish heritage, and then lead all the skunks out of Roanoke, in the same manner as St. Patrick led the snakes out of Ireland. (He used a flute, right? And is this basically the same story as the Pied Piper? Is one derived from the other?)
Dear God, the smell of those skunks is categorically toxic. It is quite possibly the only downside of living here. That odor is one problem that my native New York does not have. Hell, I’m willing to bet even New Jersey doesn’t have it.
Alexander building a wall to enclose the people of “Gog and Magog”, from Wauquelin’s story of Alexander. Bruges, Belgium, 15th cent.
I’m not clear if it is implied that Wuaquelin is also the artist here, or even if such information is known.
