"Embark on a Journey of Self-Discovery Through Unspoken Conversations in the form of poetry and prose in 'Anvil Rising' by David Pierce Jones"
"Anvil Rising" by David Pierce Jones unfolds like a collector's trove of poignant moments--unsaid conversations, unshared sentiments, passionate expressions--carefully curated to form a personal archive of human experience. Each page is a breath of fresh air, inviting readers to explore the weight of a lifetime, symbolizing an ascent to newfound clarity and self-discovery. In this enchanting children's book, Jones captures the essence of personal archives, transforming them into a captivating narrative that sparks imagination and introspection. Through artful storytelling, 'Anvil Rising' opens a door to the unspoken, offering young readers a unique and uplifting journey of emotions.
David Pierce Jones, a masterful curator of words and emotions, brings his unique storytelling prowess to 'Anvil Rising, ' adding another gem to his literary repertoire.
"Discover the magic within everyday moments as 'Anvil Rising' unveils a treasure trove of emotions, turning ordinary pages into extraordinary adventures. David Pierce Jones invites young hearts to embark on a journey of self-discovery, making each turn of the page an exploration of the beautifully unspoken in the tapestry of life."
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David Pierce Jones is a country kid born in upstate New York who later drifted into city living for far too long and is now finding his way home, decades later. He prizes hard work, old skills, and bluntness. No useful blade has ever been sharpened without the love of the stone, and his writing is a testament to that.
He is a father, a son, a brother, and a friend.
He loves dogs. Cat people are a mystery.
He appreciates well-aged bourbon and scotch. Neat.
He is an abstract artist. Not so neat.
He is an accomplished marketing professional. It is always about the offer.
Most everything else you need to know about David is pounded into the pages of this book.
THUNDER STUMBLING
A forlorn drifter is dipped in bronze: Mercury. He spreads wings of damask and comes calling upon a cement cloud to sit and pluck the feathers of passing birds, and to rest in the gray arms of lasting love, once again.
His cries are thunder stumbling downhill, carrying the smothering weight of creaking hinged eyes and arms cut, stretched, up and uplifting, from the heaviest of boys, who, so simple, is crushed by his anchor.
His reflection is in the eyes of men who truly see, and light is the last whisper of a lash that binds and draws noose tight about his neck, where a crucifix would be, if he prayed.
Oh, how he would fly if not for the scarred collar that marks the shrieks and the taunts— tattooed adolescent deep, held tight, Canastota muck stuck to his heavyweight boots. There is no traction for his dreams.
He is down, gone.
ROTUNDA
strange this rotunda callous concrete behind bars inside their eyes washed in blood and fury round inside round nowhere to go chainedchristmas trees walls draped evergreen and fir stainless steel tables drip spirit, calm and i am trapped soothed and sure the trees deep-rooted for the seasonrecurring theme been here done this circumstances change convicts come and go i remain steady state furious and serene
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Anbieter: ThriftBooks-Dallas, Dallas, TX, USA
Paperback. Zustand: Very Good. No Jacket. May have limited writing in cover pages. Pages are unmarked. ~ ThriftBooks: Read More, Spend Less. Artikel-Nr. G1955690251I4N00
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