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  • Format: ePub

The first book, THE LITTLE POTATO IS BORN, tells how a farmer digs her up on his farm and puts her in the root cellar.
She figures out a way to escape and is accidentally picked up by a kind woman at a farmer's market. The woman takes her home and raises her. After her last birthday, she leaves home on her birthday present - a little red scooter, to see the world. Thankfully she has a cell phone to keep in touch with the woman she calls Mom. She has a ROAD TRIP, GOES CAMPING, and now arrives AT THE FAIR.

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  • Größe: 15.57MB
Produktbeschreibung
The first book, THE LITTLE POTATO IS BORN, tells how a farmer digs her up on his farm and puts her in the root cellar.

She figures out a way to escape and is accidentally picked up by a kind woman at a farmer's market. The woman takes her home and raises her. After her last birthday, she leaves home on her birthday present - a little red scooter, to see the world. Thankfully she has a cell phone to keep in touch with the woman she calls Mom. She has a ROAD TRIP, GOES CAMPING, and now arrives AT THE FAIR.


Dieser Download kann aus rechtlichen Gründen nur mit Rechnungsadresse in A, B, CY, CZ, D, DK, EW, E, FIN, F, GR, H, IRL, I, LT, L, LR, M, NL, PL, P, R, S, SLO, SK ausgeliefert werden.

Autorenporträt
Cafe's are great places to get a start as a poet. Vancouver, B.C. Canada has some wonderful ones.I remember sitting in the audience in La Quena, listening to the poets. Poetry read on-stage takes on a dimension of human communication unseen since the early storytellers. Looking at the poet's body language struck a chord in me. Quite often I would take out a pen and paper and write furiously.One day I was at the Glass Slipper in Vancouver and Gerry Gilbert, a well-known poet, was doing his "Radio Free Rainforest" radio show live. At intermission, he came down from the stage and asked me if I'm a poet. I said, "yes" and was put on the radio a couple of weeks later. We became good friends and he would show up on his bicycle and call up to me in poems. We'd go for long walks around the seawall, talking poetry.I ended up accompanying him on my flute at poetry readings. One day he did a set of poetry about fireworks. He blended my flute playing with a soundscape of the fireworks celebration on Sunset Beach and used it as a backdrop to his poems at the Glass Slipper. Someone in the crowd must have been inspired a bit too much. Next morning we learnt that the Glass Slipper had been burned down, unfortunately, in the night after the poets left. They say words are more powerful than swords.....maybe they start fires too.Here's to starting the fires of the mind and heart . . .