Poetry

I write poetry based largely on internal and external observations, and my explorations of that which stands out through the lens of my subjective filter. Once in a while, I like to experiment with form, proclaim a rant about a particular topic, or just go off and see what happens next. I was first influenced by classical and world authors, growing up, later by an exposure to the rich tapestry of authors and performers in Chicago, IL and Portland, Oregon. These days, I write poetry sparingly but steadily (I’m part Finn, we don’t speak unless we have something important to say!) I have been performing my works at venues in Chicago and Portland off and on since 1996, including some adventures with the Irradiated Poets a few years back. Walt Curtis generously described me as having been “One of the important people on the Portland Poetry scene” since my arrival here in 1999.

I have one previously published chapbook, Uncircumcised Rants, in 2003. it had originally been available locally at Powell’s City of Books and a few other sites around Portland, at the time of publication. Please contact me directly if you’re interested in getting a copy.

I am hoping to transcribe and edit my work thus far, to publish in some print or online publications, and to complete and publish some new chapbooks in the near future. There are two items planned for the upcoming menu: Windowpane, an exploration of travel, altered states, dreams and other liminal experiences- with artwork, photography, and creative visual layouts as well as writing- and Savium, a collection of character studies or portraits, memorializations and romantic doggerel of my own quirky nature in free verse.

Below are an example or several of recent works. Enjoy…

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Letter to Myself (A Poem for Grief)
 

You didn’t believe

there could really be strawberries,

Until you walked out with the cat

down to his wild garden

 
 

Yet, there they were, unashamedly glowing, red, ripe

& luscious, barely hidden

under a flush of

early summer leaves.

 
 

Taking in sweet, sun filled

flesh, you continued on

through rows of other

peoples’ vegetables,

 
 

and realized

 
 

there was something

you’d never quite thought of in that way,

ever before.
 

S. B. Appel, 6/16/15