[Reading] ➶ Poems ➬ Ron Rash – Horse-zine.co.uk

Poems pdf Poems , ebook Poems , epub Poems , doc Poems , e-pub Poems , Poems f492ba45200 A Collection Of Haunting Lyricism That Evokes The Beauty And Hardship Of The Rural South, By A Revered American Master Of Letters The Award Winning, Bestselling Author Of The Novels Serena, Something Rich And Strange, And Above The WaterfallIn This Incandescent, Profound, And Accessible Collection, Beloved And Award Winning Poet, Novelist, And Short Story Writer Ron Rash Vividly Channels The Rhythms Of Life In Appalachia, Deftly Capturing The Panoply Of Individuals Who Are Its Heart And Soul Men And Women Inured To Misfortune And Hard Times Yet Defined By Tremendous Fortitude, Resilience, And A Fierce Sense Of CommunityIn Precise, Supple Language That Swerves From The Stark To The Luminous, Rash Richly Describes The Splendor Of The Natural Landscape And Poignantly Renders The Lives Of Those Dependent On Its Bounty In Cotton Mills And Tobacco Fields, Farmlands And Forests The Haunting Memories And Shared Histories Of These People Their Rituals And Traditions Animate This Land, And Are Celebrated In Rash S Crystalline, Intensely Imagined VerseWith An Eye For The Surprising And Vivid Detail, Ron Rash Powerfully Captures The Sorrows And Exaltations Of This Wondrous World He Knows Intimately Illuminating And Indelible, Poems Demonstrates His Rich Talents And Confirms His Legacy As A Standard Bearer For The Literature Of The American South

10 thoughts on “Poems

  1. says:

    Over the last few years I have gotten to know the writing of Ron Rash as a premier voice in Southern literature A professor at Western Carolina University, he wowed me with his PEN Faulkner nominated Serena as well as One Foot in Eden Rash can flat out write Last week I saw my Goodreads friend Diane reading a book of Rash s poetry, and I knew that I had to get it for myself To my delightful surprise, the library did not have the collection that Diane read, but a larger collection that included the poetry that she recommended Needless to say, I knew I was in for a treat.When I say that Rash can flat out write and switch genres seamlessly, I do not say this lightly as there are few authors today who I find can switch genres and still produce quality work Coincidently, the last author I noted this about is also a premier poet, current United States poet laureate Tracy K Smith Perhaps there is something to be said about gifted poets switching over to novels or memoirs their words dance lusciously off of the pages, and I am fortunate to be in their world for a few hours Rash s work is like this.In this cross section of his poetry, Rash transports his readers to Western Carolina along the Jocasee River near the town of Laurel along the Tennessee border His poems are biographical about the generations of his family who have farmed and worked the land up until present day Some remained as farmers whereas other worked in the Eureka Mill, which produces bed sheets The poems shared the themes of hard work of the land with a hint of southern style gothic and a dose of southern religion Even though the words are beautiful, they are deep and soul searching, and one can see that they are a labor of love, again a pure joy to read.Ron Rash s work is earning his keep as a top Southern writer today It would most likely be a privilege to enroll in one of his literature seminars knowing that one could learn from a master of his craft This unexpected gem because crossing genres I did not know what to expect made me realize how much I enjoy Rash s work and it is safe to say that I will be reading of his blissful prose sooner rather than later.4 shining stars

  2. says:

    RON RASH TAKING DOWN THE LINESThey tore the telephone linesfrom the valley like unhealedstitches, poles and wires hauled offthrough which voices had once flowedacross Jocassee like freshetscrisscrossing, running backwardinto far coves where one phonemight be shared by five families.In those lines was sedimentof births and sickness, deaths,love vows and threats, all passed onmouth to mouth, vital as breathbefore silenced in the lake scurrents of lost connections.if springsteen ever runs out of material about the vanishing american heartland and the stoicism of the working class, i m sure ron rash would let him set some of these poems to music LISTENING TO WBTAll you had to do was turn the knobuntil the light clicked on and soon you d findrising out of static was your life.Every time you heard The Weave Room Blues or Cotton Mill Colic No 3 you feltlike a deer that risked a meadow, its eyeslifted to see the barrel too late.Someone had caught you in his sights,hit you solid in the gutswith all the things that you had thoughtyou didn t want to think too long about.But days later you d catch yourselfhumming those lines as you worked your shift.Maybe it was the banjo and guitar,the way they prettied up the words,that made those songs lift up your heartsame as a Sunday morning hymn.Or maybe in the end it was the words,the bare assed truth making a standin a voice that could have been your own.this book gathers together a sampling of rash s poems from lit journals and previously published collections with only eight brandy new ones which is fine if you re like me and have bought all of his previous poetry collections but never actually read any of them it also indicates he s been focusing on his novel writing than poetry lately, which is as it should be not that his novels are superior to his poetry when it comes to writing quality in fact, any of these poems could stand in for the descriptive passages of his novels without seeming out of place ABANDONED HOMESTEAD IN WATAUGA COUNTYAll that once was is this, shattered glass, a rotof tin and wood, the humof limp legged wasps that ascendlike mote swirls in the heatlight.Out front a cherry treebuckles in fruit, harvestedby yellow jackets and starlings,the wind, the rain, and the sun.but i figure novels pay bills than poetry does, even narrative poetry that reads like short stories BEARINGSHe s scraped manure off his boots a last time,filled the front room with what he has chosento keep on owning He s alone, his uncle gone,gearing back through the hills upwinding intothe gasping curves and drops of the mountains.He stands on the porch, no work until tomorrow,millhouses planted like corn rows each way helooks, Eureka s water tower rising above as ifa hard high legged scarecrow He steps down onthe strange level road, walks west toward town.He finds a grill, asks for what he s memorized a hamburger and a Coke and his change Outsidein the loud afternoon, he stares into windowsuntil he sees shoes The clerk takes his billsand grins when my grandfather asks for a poke.He walks out toward Eureka s smoke and rumble,toward the millhouses crouched and huddled inthe mill s shadow, and soon finds he is lost.Each house might be his or maybe the next one, and he walks an hour before he finally asks.He tells the man he is looking for James Rash,a friend who s just moved here The man says Tommy Singleton got fired last week I d betthat s where your friend is at and points toa house, and so my grandfather found himself.He stayed inside till the whistle woke him up,and threw his boots on the roof so they mightguide him back those first evenings and laterthe Saturday nights he weaved under moonshine,searching roof after roof trying to find home.or WOLF LAURELTree branches ice shackled, groundhard as an anvil, three sonsand a father leave the blazehuddled around all morning,wade snow two miles where they crossWolf Laurel Creek, poke riflesin rock holes, cliff leans hopingto quarry what s killed five sheep,but no den found as the ridgesips away the gray last lightof winter solstice, and theyhead back toward home, the trailfalling in blur dark and thenthe father falls too, eyes locked, wrist unpulsed, the sons withoutlantern, enough lingering light,know they must leave him or riskall of them lost, know what waitsfor death in this place, so breaka hole in Wolf Laurel s ice,come back at first light to findthe creek s scab of cold coveredwith snow drift, circling paw printsbrushed away that sons might seea father s face staring throughthe ice as through a mirror.thematically, the poems are what you d expect as a fan of ron rash nature, the cost of progress, poverty, struggle, quiet men and strong women, young deaths borne stoically, cotton mills, family, hardship, unexpected beauty all those great steinbeckian ideals on display where men are men and work is hard POCKETKNIVESCarried like time, consultedas often when the sermondroned on past noon, hay bailerbroke a chain, any otherlingering moments their scarredand calloused workflesh idled,the blades pried free the way wivesmight slip a ribbon, that samedelicate tug when forge craftsharpened what light sun or bulbprovided as they trimmed dirtfrom the undersides of nails,surfaced splinters, bled blisters,a tool but than a tooleach time they rasped a whetstoneacross steel until it flashedpure as silver, then a ragdoused in oil to rub new brightthe handles hewed from antler,pearl, hardwood and ivorylaced with brass or gold, the onevanity of men caught oncewhen dead in a coat and tie,so ordered from catalogs,saved and traded for, searched forin sheds and fields if lost, passedfather to son as heirlooms,like talismans carried closethough most times, cloaked as the heartsof these men who rarely spoketheir fears and hopes, let their wordsclench inside a locked silence.his words ring with that much disparaged word authenticity, but it s appropriate here, and there s something both careworn and fresh about these passages that is undeniably powerful, even if you re not usually a fan of poetry THE WATCHAlmost like a scythe, the sweepof mesh through creek pool, that slowharvest of dace and crayfish,the homemade seine held betweenmy brother and me, worked deepin each undercut, sinkersscraping white sand like a rake,and this morning a subtlebowing, then give, bringing upa gold watch three decades droppedfrom our grandfather s pocket,lost in his field, freshet sweptto this pool some longback spring.My knife blade pries open timelike a clam, water spillingout lost hours, and though I trywith shake and stem wind to rouse,the hands do not move, remainat six thirty, one placed onthe other like dead man s hands THE CORPSE BIRDBed sick she heard the bird s callfall soft as a pall that nightquilts tightened around her throat,her gray eyes narrowed, their lightgone as she saw what she d heardwaiting for her in the treecut down at daybreak by kinto make the coffin, burythat wood around her so deathmight find one less place to perch.and for greg THE FOXTwo months before he died my uncle sawa red fox near the field edge where he plowed,watching him, its tongue unpanting thoughthe August heat haze waved the air like water.That night he claimed it was his father, then laughedas if he wasn t serious, as ifall summer long we hadn t watched his facegrow old too quick, gray stubbled, sudden lined.His wife would try the last days that he livedto get him to the hospital but hetook to his bed, awaited the approachof padded feet, coming close, then closer.many of these poems explore his hometown and his own family s past, of which this one is the most poignant PHOTOGRAPH OF MY PARENTS OUTSIDE EUREKA COTTON MILL DATED JUNE 1950Back against the chain link fence,my father s muscled left arm twistslike vine that sprouts a wire meshed fist.My mother leans into his chest.She s known him a month, cannot guesswhat I will see, at least not yet,in my father s odd pose, the fingerlessawkward clutch of metal, as ifcaught in Eureka s sprung steel grip.it s a fantastic collection overall, and a good atmospheric table setting before i dive into The Risen A Novel next week i m going to leave you with this one, which along with pocketknives is my favorite in the collection, and a nice warm nostalgic image heavy piece to leave lingering in the brain as you go about your day WATAUGA COUNTY 1962Smell of honeysuckle brightas dew beads stringing lines onthe writing spider s silk page,night s cool lingering, the sunawake but still lying down,its slant light seeping through gapsof oak branches as the firstblackberry pings the milk pail semptiness, begins the slowfilling up, the plush feel ofberries only yesterdayred green knots before steeped indark to a deep purple hue,and as dawn passes, the pailgrows heavy, wearies my armuntil I sit down insidethat maze of briar I makemy kingdom, lift to my mouththe sweet wine of blackberry,my hands stained like royalty i am in no way a spokesperson for ron rash, bruce, so you should probably ask before you rent the studio space, but you re springsteen who s gonna say no to you come to my blog

  3. says:

    Poems New and Selected, Ron Rash s Appalachia in VerseThose readers who have admired the prose of Ron Rash should welcome the publication of Poems New and Selected from the ecco imprint of Harper Collins This volume of beautifully haunting verse contains poems from each of Rash s previously published collections of poems Eureka Mill, Raising the Dead, Among the Believers, and Waking, with equally captivating new poems.Rash s poems are rich in the distillation of memory of place, people, nature, and the course of life from birth to death The expected and unexpected departure of family, friends, and those bound in life through the the community they shared.The lines of these poems scan perfectly, at times almost seeming to embrace the rhythm of folk ballads and old gospel hymns The streams and mountains of western North Carolina are captured in indelible imagery through language that is readily accessible, as one might share a colloquial conversation with a neighbor sharing time slipping a line into a trout stream or leafing through one s family Bible at a reunion of relatives tracing a long and hard history of life through ever changing times.In the collection Raising the Dead readers familiar with Rash s first novel One Foot in Eden will recognize the theme of a way of life lost through the flooding of land to bring progress through generating electrical power Water emerges as a symbol of death and destruction These poems are perhaps the most powerful in this collection.Through Eureka Mills and Among the Believers Rash uses water as a symbol of life and resurrection, a necessity for the baptism of the human soul and a necessity for the growth of essential crops Ron Rash serves as historian, naturalist, biographer, and balladeer that serves to bring Appalachia past and present to life These are lines of verse to read aloud, to hear the perfect lyricism that will remind you of the work of poets such as Wendell Berry and former Poet Laureate Ted Kooser.Be haunted by the lines of In Dismal Gorge, in the waterfall country of western North Carolina On the Dismal Falls TrailThe lost can stay lost down here,in laurel slicks, false pathed caves.Too much too soon disappears here.On creek banks clearings appear,once homesteads Nothing remains.The lost can stay lost down here,like Tom Clark s child, our worst fearsconfirmed as we searched in vain.Too much too soon disappears.How often this is made clearwhere cliff shadows pall our days.The lost can stay lost down here,lives slip away like water.We fill our Bibles with names.The lost can stay lost down here.Too much too soon disappears.Then celebrate the joy of hopefulness and homestead in Brightleaf Here a bride planted hundreds of dogwoods, so coming springsbranches flared with white blossoms,waking an orchard of light against that bleak narrativeof place name, a life scratched outon ground as much rock as dirt.Decades passed as she raised whatmight look from distant summit like a white flag unfurled, thoughanything but surrender.EXTRASListen to Ron Rash read The Exchange from Among the Believers based on a love story in Rash s family history.Listen to Ron Rash speak about writing poetry, novels, and short stories.

  4. says:

    It s a joy to witness the blooming of Ron Rash s career I first read a story of his over a decade ago I bought an O Henry anthology in Toronto, hoping to read an old teacher s entry and while away a plane journey home to England Rash s entry Speckled Trout ended up stealing the show Before the month had ended I got hold of his novels and story collections from sellers in the US, and enjoyed them all.Today, Rash s work has enjoyed slots on the bestseller lists, two film adaptations, and glowing reviews on our side of the Atlantic from Irvine Welsh and others Canongate publish Rash s recent fiction, but have yet to print any of his poetry For UK readers this volume was sorely needed Les Murray once said publishing a Selected Poems was like having your life put on trial I doubt any Judge could convict Rash of anything except for writing well, and consistently This volume reprints selections from Rash s three earlier volumes, with recent verse crowning the whole If I don t see much progression from front to back, that s really because there doesn t need to be Rash s poetry hits its stride early on His subject matter is his native turf, Appalachia, which he surveys without condescension, stereotype or hysteria I imagine that has drawn comparisons with Cormac McCarthy and Breece D J Pancake, but the comparison misleads There is a serenity in Rash s work, a timelessness Melodrama is outlawed people and scenes are trusted to speak for themselves In this he seems to have in common with the Orcadian poets George Mackay Brown and Edwin Muir A Muir poem, One Foot in Eden , provides the title for Rash s first novel Poetry doesn t have to rhyme any than a football team has to play four four two, but Rash s work has an impressive feel for form Some of his poems derive from cynghanedd a sound arrangement from Welsh language poetry One poem is even titled From the Mabinogion and like snow warmed by the sunall they had seen and sufferedmelted away No sorrowcould harbor inside that hall.Although he pays sincere tribute to his Celtic forebears, Rash is honest enough to grant how ancestor worship and history fixation sour into feuds that divide generations and fuel atrocities, as in his poems mourning the American Civil War.Rash is not one of those poets that thinks being unintelligible is a vital part of the job He does not spout foreign languages, wag a wizened finger at people whose lives he doesn t understand, nor think the stuff of everyday life is unworthy of poetry His language is as clear as dawn air As though shedding an old skin,Fall Creek slips free from fall s weight Fall Creek Water flesh gleamed like mica orange fins, red flank spots, a charshy as ginseng Speckled Trout Other poems, especially from the Eureka Mill collection, deliver a narrative thrill largely absent from modern verse those lives all lived as gearsin Springs cotton milland let me not forgetyour lives were than that Invocation Those first nights when I got back homeI swear I could barely raise my fork.I d fall asleep with my works clothes on,still weary when the whistle blew The Stretch Out I could go on quoting, but I would hate to spoil poems like 1934 , Brown Lung , First Shift and Bonding Fire Ron Rash is a wonderful writer and this is a superb addition to his oeuvre In a just world, people would toast his birthday on Rash Night every year.

  5. says:

    I read very little poetry as it is too abstract for my imagination or lack of imagination However, I will have to say that many of these poems were very emotional for me and I can see where he is a great writer both in poetry and prose I just wish I had someone to give me a in depth explanation of some of his poems I have read several of his books and Ron Rash is definitely one of my very favorite writers of all time.

  6. says:

    Ron Rash composes beautiful Carolinian ballads, voices singing narratives of an overlooked South life in Appalachia and mill towns The selections captured native voice and tone so perfectly that I often forgot I was reading poetry, becoming lost in the dialogue of Rash s poignant lyricism He unveils his treasures by threading together local histories with the lore from a few generations back, ultimately capturing the core of the Southern persistent spirit A friend recommended this hauntingly beautiful collection of poetry I couldn t put it down, yet I didn t want it to end It seems that the only solution to such a problem is to purchase a personal copy.

  7. says:

    4.5 I have been reading Rash s prose for a while, but have ignored his poetry I recently attended an event celebrating the release of his new novel and got to hear him read some of his poems They took me by surprise I left the event with The Risen AND this collection of poems I recognize the people and the places in this volume as my family and my home The Eureka Mill poems particularly spoke to me because of my family s history with Beacon Mill in Swannanoa A beautiful and powerful collection of poems.

  8. says:

    Hard like his prose, but truthful and unflinching.

  9. says:

    Great collection of Poems Ron Rash s writing never disappoints His words always paint the most vivid pictures.

  10. says:

    Love the strong narrative element in these poems folks who appreciate Southern Literature and storytelling will enjoy these, even though some deal with heavy subject matter Highly recommend.

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