Phyllis Ann Karr

Bible Verses and Other Theological Poems (eBook, ePUB)

• Format: ePub

Produktbeschreibung

The author looks at Bible Stories and characters in ways that may be somewhat different from the usual orthodox interpretations: God congratulates Adam and Eve for finally growing up and eating the "forbidden" fruit, the Deluge is caused by God's tears as She weeps for humanity's sins; after reasoning things out, Abraham decides NOT to sacrifice his son, and God rejoices; Elijah is viewed as a bloody mass murderer. The short "Christmas" section includes a carol for Joseph's earlier wife, a new "Cherry Tree Carol" in which expectant father Joseph begs the miracle to satisfy his pregnant wife's food craving, and a lament for the newborn babe expected to solve all humanity's mistakes miraculously. Among the God-oriented but less Biblically based poems, a number deal with the author's very happy marriage and her husband's tragic death.

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Produktdetails

• Verlag: Phyllis Ann Karr
• Erscheinungstermin: 27. Dezember 2021
• Englisch
• ISBN-13: 9781005814434
• Artikelnr.: 72346880

Autorenporträt

Born 1944, death date not yet established. Lifelong fictioneer, primary publisher for the last few decades Wildside Press. Savoyard (fan only, non-singing), Droodophile, etc.

Pictured with my beloved husband Clifton Alfred Hoyt, who among other things invented a means of measuring gas in tenths of a gallon when pumped into your car. He moved out of his body in 2005. (Note: that's ALFRED, not "Albert," as some places seem to have it erroneously.

I once had a poor little website. It got eaten by some Japanese(?) concern peddling -- as nearly as I could make out -- cosmetics. As nearly as I could see, it had never profited me; and as of today, it seems as nearly as I can see to have vanished. Now I leave it all to Wikipedia (which may not always be reliable), Amazon, and Smashwords.

Throughout my life (77 years and counting), every time I have tried to blow my own trumpet, somebody has thrown heavy lumps of discouragement into its bell. Now I am like someone shipwrecked on a desert island with several cases of pop, reams of paper, and sharpened pencils, who, after drinking up each bottle, puts in a message and tosses it into the ocean. A few of these messages may eventually be picked up; and, since it will probably be too late for the writer, at least let the message itself give a little enjoyment to the finder.

in February 2022 I was appalled to find that somehow -- who was responsible for the goof may never be known -- the dollar ninety-nine cents I thought I had listed for my "Polifonix Poems" message-in-bottle had got transmogrified to a hundred and ninety-nine dollars!! I don't think there is any newly published and/or currently available volume of verse anywhere in the world worth that kind of asking price, unless perhaps it were privately printed on thin sheets of beaten gold and bound in unicorn hide. Apologies to anyone who may have glimpsed that absurd $199.00 and pictured me as endowed with an ego bigger than Mount Everest. Although leaving the price to the purchaser amounts to "free," that's much better than risking such a ridiculously out-of-line price tag by mistake; and I am, after all, pretty well just tossing out messages in bottles.