"Musings of a Full Moon", the first book by author Helen P. Souranoff, has been released & published by Misfit Moon productions, in conjunction with Purple Books Publishing.
This collection comprises pieces from the author’s early work and takes the reader through a semi-chronological journey of loss, defeat, death, love and rebirth of the human spirit.
This work is not only for readers’ enjoyment but also to inspire those who seek to regain hope, to ponder the heavens, or to simply have a moment of creative insight and stillness in our feeling world.
Special Thanks goes to Martine Friberger for her assistance and collaboration on all artwork, Joy Kutaka-Kennedy for additional editing and review, and to Ronnie Sanlow at Purple Books Publishing. Thank you to those providing your support & encouragment!
The musings found in this book have been the inspiration behind Veterans Day: A Cinepoem, with other pieces planned to follow.
Available Formats: Digital/Softcover
Digital File Size: 191 KB
Digital Compatability: Amazon Kindle or related
Amazon Kindle App
Print Length/Pages: 62 pages
"Helen P Souranoff's life speaks to us in a most authentic and amazing manner. Her musings are at times a dialogue with the universe, and also with our most secret thoughts. Musings of a Full Moon address universal issues of loneliness, pain, suffering, joy, communicating with our true self, honesty, jealousy and the list goes on. Any person reading this will get something to take with them and keep close to their heart. This book is a joy and a pleasure to read, and it is certain that everyone will be able to relate to many of the topics."
- D. Carrington
You’re running at me, that glare in your eyes holding up my flesh like some trophy ready to give to the Gods as some sacrifice to show your loyalty to their power; to show them that you are worthy of saving, your offering being an acceptable invitation for justifying your violent actions…
These woods have seen many things.
The pines whisper secrets as the troupe runs in, only to find no way out. The maze of trees casts a cloak that renders everyone invisible. How soon we forget of the wars that have been fought amongst woods on land on sea, in deserts and in day and in night; how soon we forget the struggles of all touched by the ultimate conflict, sacrifice and winner take all, war.
Let us not forget as we stand here in the wood, ear trained, listening for the words to come to tell their story so we may not, Gods forbid, repeat such atrocities again but that’s not what you hear now, as you are crouched, poised, an animalistic machine in survival mode. You hold your bloody fist, behold, in my face as if to show that I am barred from ever returning home back up to the land of living honoring any remote thoughts of release up until Hell freezes over, but we all know that’s a silly saying anyway…holding flesh from some other being like a trophy, to be admired only by yourself because you are alone, the only one of the few that was left behind to fight the dirty fight…
You were forgotten on the battlefield and at home, and as you wonder ‘what else do I have to live for’ you remember you’ve got a gun at your side that gives you pride and power and you instinctively reach for the handle as you return to the battlefield if only in your head… as they try to secure the straps holding you down to take you away to another place where it’s told it will be safe but you can’t believe anybody anyway because it has been too long and too horrific to live this way, lost in the wood.
You are at home, but you don’t know it.
Nobody treats you like you; the old you. Everything is different now, and will, no doubt make a great story one day but right now the pain is too new, too fresh and is still lingering in corners only to sneak out when unexpected, an uninvited friend in collaboration with Insanity and the Grim Reaper Clown.
You have survived much, my friend.
I wish you luck, since offering anything else would seem trivial and not fully comprehending the complete experience of the very real nightmares that you have seen. I stand ready to take that fist and extend fingers to meet with palm in a moment of peace, but would you let me? Would you let anyone? Only time will tell.
By: Helen P. Souranoff
Copyright 2012 Purple Books Publishing
May not be used or redistributed without express written permission from the author.
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