Author Archives: anthonyuplandpoetwatkins

About anthonyuplandpoetwatkins

https://www.goodreads.com/AnthonyUplandpoetWatkins born in Jackson, The United States August 04, 1959 gender male website http://www.lulu.com/shop/search.ep?contributorI... genre Poetry, Historical Fiction influences James M. Lancaster, Brenda Black White, Gertrude Stein, William Carlos Williams, and Al Filreis member since March 2011 About this author edit data As one of the most public lives ever lived by a private citizen, there is little about me that isn't already available at Facebook or Shelfari and countless other places. Poet, writer, construction worker, salesman, truck driver, climber into the attics of total strangers, father and husband, and all around one of the luckiest men on the planet. My luck continued with a win in the June Goodreads Newsletter Contest! What an honor! http://anthonyuplandpoetwatkins.wordp... Additional Influences: Bob Dylan, William Faulkner, Barbara Kingsolver, Gloria Naylor, Eudora Welty

Where am I going (Suzanne’s Poem)

to find the peace and quiet to write my poetry?   That’s what I need, not my teenaged son’s bedroom not my couching with a boney whining dog pressed against my leg.   So, I could just toss them out, … Continue reading

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This Sunday

bookended by two long weeks of rain, dreary green leaves hang past the water glazed screening   A Sunday morning, maybe the happiest of all times: most are not working, a pure leisure.   Reading, cooking, even laundry goes at … Continue reading

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Never Trust a Poet

They lie. They tell stories. They hide behind words. When all else fails they make stuff up!   I have known poets – a lot of them – not a one of them are to be believed they mean to … Continue reading

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Does Anyone Remember

the sound of flash bulbs, a wet electric pop, the sonic image of a bubble gum bubble collapsing, blinding light, crumpled, deformed bulb, after its momentary use ejected and replaced?

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Half Remembered Stories

The Moon sank with a clunk like a wooden paddle hitting the jon-boat which is what I heard.   Rickey had kicked the oar as he shifted in the dark.   The fish started biting, we filled two five-gallon buckets … Continue reading

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I’m Folding Up my Tent 

of academia: I am a two-dollar roadside poet, that’s all I’ll ever be.   I’ve studied with the great minds of literature.   I discovered I am the pig In the phrase: Pearls before Swine,   I have tried but … Continue reading

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and now, just for fun, in latin

Pulvis elevationem mille annos mortui sunt vere venti Ego hic nisi momentis donec veniam ad pulvis iam viventem, in hoc momento Et video ortum, opus solliciti suas vires extollere aratra obtrectatoribus coegi, aliis sit a vita ad desks. De aere, … Continue reading

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