MSI Press Blog

image from DML Editing & Writing check out their latest post on " How to Write Good Poetry " In observance of poetry month, MSI Press would like to share with its readers and fans two books worth reading: One will bring a comforting smile to an unbidden tear. The other will bring an outright laugh page after page. Time spent with comforting and/or happy thoughts is time well spent indeed. Marti Wells-Smith's Lamentations of the Heart Mingled with Peace and Joy combines prose and poetry in a comforting missive for bereaved parents. Through its pages, one finds not only the resilience of the author but sources for anyone to develop needed resilience in the face of devastating life circumstances. When it came out, it quickly became one of Amazon's "hot, new releases." Lamentations of the Heart soulfully combines contemporary free verse poetry and nonfictional prose to tell the story of one mother's grief following the death of her only child. The autho...

  Excerpt from Thoughts without a Title , edited by Geri Henderson. The Forest Whispers My Name  by Yousef Belbeisi When my thoughts weigh heavy with the burden of time,  I walk in the dim-lit forest, wasting precious time. I hear my name being whispered in the wind, It’s saying “You are needed here once again.” An eagle cries among the trees. Its scream shivers along my skin, Like raking claws along dead prey. These whispering voices talk of my fate. The howling wolves at midnight day, The dim light of the moon becomes my dead lights. It shines on me wherever I go. It claims my soul never leaving me alone. I raise my hands to the naked dark sky. I feel myself being lifted to far away places,  Now traveling lifetimes, Never being able to stop.  And finally, I see the face of God. ---- Paperback copies available at MSI Press webstore . Use coupon code FF25 for 25% discount. For more posts about this book, click  HERE . For more book excerpts, click  HER...

  Excerpt from Lamentations of the Heart (Marti Wells-Smith) -  SPARROWS   House sparrows swoop and hide in the old holly bush to the side of my porch; clustered with berries and sharp-edged leaves that never turn dull or lifelessly fall.                                                               A place for small flocks to tuck in their wings when rain pours upon them or snow settles in. These sparrows that scatter and fearfully fly from the young, rumpled boys who often pass by and the chattering girls who follow behind, never, not once, see the woman inside. I perch in the background, hidden away with a lap of white paper and rambli...