IvyAnna
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"SHOCK POETRY" ...that’s how IvyAnna describes her riveting collection. Why? Raising wispy eyebrows, our author shrugs bony shoulders ("her" descriptiveness not ours), expressively bends small wrists upwards and fans the palms of both hands in an away-from-the-body sweep when stating, "It’s probably because most poems do not deal with mundane, run-of-the-mill, ho-hum, sissified type of themes.".
Would jaw-gaping, ocular-bulging, beguiling mind’s eye whooshments pique your interest? Good; because SALINE SECRETIONS will indeed constrict throat muscles, send the "ole ticker" into lickety-split ventricular tailspins, stage-manage the releasing of tear-duct waterworks AND simultaneously cause your soul to quiver and quake. Why? IvyAnna possesses the unique ability to intricately manipulate one’s unsuspecting mindset. For those of you who want a spellbinding, "can’t-put-the-book-down", sock-it-to-me type of read, then by golly, this poetic anthology packs the right amount of juicy jabs and power punches to do just that!
Still not quite sure if "poetry" is your cup of tea? We strongly suggest you read the goose-bumply snippet samplings found in IvyAnna’s free preview. You (the once-biased aficionado) just might toy with the notion of being overtly receptive to the collective works of the new kid on the block ...despite the fact that it’s "POETRY".
Labeled a "Pint-sized Pip" by friends because of her tenacious resiliency and go-after-it-type gumption, IvyAnna calls herself a small-town girl with big-time ambitions. She doesn’t mind admitting how middle age has certainly provided her with wisdom; and opportunity has afforded her the freedom to make an impression as an accomplished poet.
Never having taken paths of least resistance, this author undauntedly draws strength from the age-old adage "If there’s a will, there’s a way." Refusing to be deterred or discouraged by unending, uncountable dead-end streets, IvyAnna boastfully points out how she’s become quite proficient at making u-turns. Undeniable drive mixed with creative aptitude has indubitably turned her life’s complicated turbulences of past into today’s expressions of bearable triumphs.
Excerpts...
"One Warning Too Many"
"A terrible legacy you’ve left me
(this AIDS bequeathment disease),
from your night with that hooker --
that filthy tramp – that sleaze."
"As the Mirror Cracks"
Wearing a bare-butt, splotched garment
she privately awaits the head nurse,
while her idling limo’s parked curbside
(as for unborn babies – a hearse).
"Won’t You ‘Paws’ for the Cause?"
She’s the perfect example (ex racer) –
proof that Greys blossom when saved;
she, being the K-9 , never knew this,
but her death sentence’d been waived.
"My ‘Mother’ I Miss"
A lanky, death angel came knocking
(he stood at my step once again);
my door consequentially swung open
(the crack let his coldness blow in).
"Hot Poker – Cold Death"
She’s most definitely a black widow spider
(as judged by her lascivious disguise).
Her lacquered veneer draws attention
(unchaste enticements – lewd lies).
"-- And the Secrets Whisper"
When she’d whispered, "I am you – you are me.",
I’d felt a lightheadedness (quite faint).
Heel-palming my ears – squeezed my eyes,
shrieked: "That’s not true. No it ain’t!".
"The Pendulous Criss ‘stead of Cross"
I agree that it certainly "sounds" implausible
(to have previously crossed over thru time),
and though I can’t explain it, it happened;
I’d become an epoch-errant, fluked mime.
"Lost Soul Tormented"
The amplified click of the hammer
had echoed sharply that night,
from when I’d pulled the gun’s trigger
with a rapt zealousness of might.
