Live and breathe your art. Although this is a well-used phrase, it certainly holds true. Therefore, it is my intention to distill this philosophy into each scribbled bit of paper and through this website.
At Scribblings And Such, you can find several collections of my poetry. But that is not the only intention I had when creating this website - selling poetry. I would like to pass along what I have learned in the process of writing, submissions, public readings and publishing. I also offer a variety of literary services, such as editing, mentoring and workshops at reasonable fees.
Poetry chapbook fee-
manuscript fee- $225.
fiction/non-fiction - $1.50 per page
Phone consultation -
$20. Per hr.
essays, ect. - $5.00 per page
Original images for
use as book or CD covers - $150.
include grammatical and content editing, arrangement of pages for continuity
with poetry collections, submission suggestions, marketing tips.
All work must be
formatted in Word Doc 97.
Payment can be made through
PayPal via this email address: firstname.lastname@example.org, upon submitting
manuscript. Turnaround time
varies in accordance to length of manuscript, for example: poetry chapbook
(25-35 pgs.) would take approx. one week to complete, full-length collection
(36-140 plus pgs ), up to two and one half weeks. Please feel free to
ask if you have any further questions.
My images are available at reasonable rates to publishing houses or private individuals.
I am also happy to announce that prints of my photography are available at ETSY: http://www.etsy.com/shop/sherilwright?ref=si_shop
I thought I might end this page with a few sample pieces of my work, let it show you what my poetry is about.
The world broke in two
when the weld failed
to hold the bicycle together -
a second-hand scrap
addled in place with a father's vanity
until stability fell out from under me
and trust lay split open on pavement
like bones cracked apart
emptied of marrow.
I wanted to leave them in the road,
let it finish swallowing the betrayal,
but I gathered my embarrassment,
drug it through the crosswalk
past the gauntlet idled at the light,
flung it onto the porch steps
where he would see the fault.
The Sound Of Thoughts
The Vietnamese have a saying:
Child turns three,
whole house talks.
And don't we know from our own silences
how words cushion echos,
that talk is marrow
to fill the hollows
of bones long buried, mute relics
of voices laid to quiet.
Our speak was words like hunt
and death and sun, words lived
and ochered onto walls,
words too big to stay in our flesh.
As patient as stone, she waits
for the next breath to come
slipping through her lips,
threading hope into her pulse
that still keeps time to this world,
one that is no longer
of clear definitions -
light and dark,
life and death.
All she has now is
the rise and fall of her chest
that grinds her focus
into points sharp as thorns
with each terrible breath.
And the only softness
is the nurses's voice
muffled through the closed door,
disembodied, echoing down the hall
untill it sounds like mother
calling her in
for a glass of lemonade.
She soaks her false teeth
in the toilet tank
got tired of knocking the danged things
off the nightstand,
picking out grit all day. Besides,
those blue tablets
that keep the bowl so clean
do a beautiful job on teeth.
Porcelain is porcelain.
Saves a little money to boot.
Not much to go around these days
since doctors have me
eating pills like popcorn.
She uses the twelve dollars
and eighty-four cents
saved from spending on denture cleaner
to but bird seed, gotta put something back
into the world for being in it.
She watches doves swarm the feeder,
pecking up bits spilled below.
Curious, she scoops out a handful
from the bag, pours it into a skillet
of melting butter and saute's
for three minutes.
It loosens her up enough
to drop one of her prescriptions -
she doesn't tell the doctor,
it's my body, don't need his permission.
He ain't so smart anyway
if an old woman can
cure her bowels with birdseed.
Every morning, she sits on the porch swing
with her bowl of hot seeds,
drizzled honey, just she and the birds
and the sun
brightening rose blooms.
Pushcart Prize and Kentucky Poet Laureate nominee, Sheri L Wright is the author of five books of poetry Her work has appeared in numerous journals throughout the country such as Clark Street Review, Crucible, Earth's Daughters and Chiron Review. Ms. Wright has taught poetry workshops for The Kentucky State Poetry Society and Women In Transition, has read extensively in the Kentucky/Indiana region, was a voluteer editor with This I Believe and has judged a poetry contest for The Virginia Writer's Club. She has appeared as a guest on Accents on WFPL 88.1 and on Janice Lee "Featuring The Arts" on WSKV. In 2007, she completed an acting workshop with Lee Kits and went from there to voice training by finishing basic and advanced commercial/radio voice-over courses at UofL taught by Barb and John Polk. Ms. Wright has won awards with Jesse Poets, Green River Writers and The Kentucky State Poetry Society. She is currently available for readings, workshops, editing services, mentoring and free-lance writing at reasonable rates. Check out my new radio show, From The Inkwell, one hour dedicated to all things literary, Saturdays at 1pm EST at CHRadio1650am, or live-streaming at www.crescenthillradio.com. And if you miss a show, don't worry. Check it out in the website archives.
<a style="color:black; text-decoration:none; text-align:center;" href="http://www.imagekind.com/Red-on Blue_art?IMID=124a2b13-c1ea-4a6f-9edf-28e689cba1f2"><img alt="Red on Blue by Sheri L. Wright" src="http://thumbs.imagekind.com/member/956a83f8-f93e-4ab9-aab1-542f81be69ad/uploadedartwork/450X450/124a2b13-c1ea-4a6f-9edf-28e689cba1f2.jpg" /><br /><b style="font-size:10px;">Red on Blue by Sheri L. Wright</b></a>