Be an Independent Thinker!

The Thinker by Rodin

In a world bombarded by information, where are the independent thinkers?

Where do the fresh, untarnished minds hang out?

Where does ORIGINALITY rear its beautiful head?

In a world deafened by conformity instead of individuality, the imaginative Creators of art, music, literature, and science are silenced under the dull roar of sameness, mediocrity, and

group think.

I will not be hampered by intimidation!

I will not be silenced by coercion!

I will not bow down to threats!

I will rise above the mundane crowd and be, above all,

AN INDEPENDENT THINKER!

Dawn Pisturino

February 7, 2017

Copyright 2017 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

Poe and Halloween belong together! Enjoy this poem by Edgar Allan Poe.

this literary life

As Hallowe’en creeps closer, I thought I would post my all time favorite poem by one of the greatest talents to ever live.

I also thought I would sprinkle in a few more of those Halloween Pin Up girls!

The Haunted Palace

by Edgar Allan Poe

In the greenest of our valleys
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace—
Radiant palace—reared its head.
In the monarch Thought’s dominion—
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair!

Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow,
(This—all this—was in the olden
Time long ago),
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odor went away.

Wanderers in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
To a lute’s well-tunëd law,
Bound about a throne where, sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
In…

View original post 142 more words

I’m so happy to have my poem published on Danse Macabre!

DM du Jour

Time passes and then we’re gone
A lump of clay once laughing, laughing no more
Discarded to the open grave to feed a hungry earth
A useless, lifeless thing
Long-forgotten in the changing years
But a simple name inscribed on stone
Unrecognized in the awful pile
Of crumbling clay and moldy dust.
“And where is the sun to warm my aching bones
And the moon to flame my lover’s ardor?
Where is the wind breathing in my ear
And the life-giving drops of rain?”
Eyes close and tender hearts stop beating.
So still, so still the cold black earth (a silent void)
Without the living sounds of hot-blooded life.
Stars fade with life’s end
The coffin lid drops with solemn finality
And Death remains, cold and intractable,
Yielding not a single ray of light.
Lost to darkness, unseeing, unfeeling wreck
Of human flesh, groping in the dark
For solidness and…

View original post 99 more words

A Lesson from Dr. Seuss

 I have a tendency to over-write, so I found a poem by Dr. Seuss to remind me to keep things simple:

“So the writer who breeds

More words than he needs

Is making a chore

For the reader who reads.”

Brilliant, huh!

In my case, it’s true. If a writer does not engage me in the first 50 to 100 pages, I toss the book aside, and voila! I never go back again. I won’t even give that author another chance. Is that unfair of me?

I see it this way: my time is limited, and I just can’t waste it wading through a lot of gibberish.

I try to keep this in mind when I’m working on my own writing.

Get into the story early, get out early. Stick to the story and don’t meander all over the place and repeat yourself umpteen times.

Don’t get blinded by your own brilliance! If I have to keep a dictionary handy in order to read your book, I guarantee that I won’t be reading it.

Readers expect a lot from their authors.

Don’t aim to disappoint.

Copyright 2012 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.