Dragonfly's Poetry & Prolixity: "Night Poems" By Ben Ditmars

Thursday, January 19, 2012

"Night Poems" By Ben Ditmars

One of my favorite bloggers in blogland is Ben Ditty (Ditmars). "Night Poems" is his new book of poetry and I'm sharing my review which I just posted at Amazon. Trust me, if you buy this book, it'll be the best damned dollar you EVER spent. I love, love, love it and highly recommend it. I say this often, but I'll say it again: SUPPORT POETS: BUY POETRY!!!

Here's Ben's blog link: http://niceoldspice.blogspot.com/2012/01/night-poems.html

And this is my review:

Unmasking the night from gloaming to dawn, Ben Ditmars' "Night Poems" shimmer and shine like sky diamonds in the black velvety heavens. From silvery moonlight references to a magical firefly's elusive glimmer, each and every poem illuminates the mind's dark corners and startle in their beauty and lucidity.

I thoroughly enjoyed each of the 29 short poems, titled with a time. One of my favorite poems is "02:20:

"a night so dead
the lights are off
playing footsie with the moon somewhere
beneath the clouds.

dim paths will unwind themselves as
street signs stretch and yawn."

If you like heartfelt, sincere, vibrant poetry, then you'll love these gems by Mr. Ditmars. I highly recommend "Night Poems". I can't wait to read more of his awesome poetry.

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Ben, you ARE da man!!! I hope you sell a gazillion books!

xoxo,
Marion

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"You will find poetry nowhere unless you bring some of it with you." ~Joseph Joubert

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Poetry, like the moon, does not advertise anything. ~William Blissett

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5 comments:

Ben Ditty said...: OOOooOOO my heart melted when I read your review :D <3 <3 Thank you so much, Marion. I'm honored beyond words and so happy you liked it :D; January 19, 2012 at 4:25 PM
Kelly said...: Well how about that! I'll have to check this out since you know I always trust your judgement in poetry, Marion.

Hmmm... think that line about playing footsie with the moon swayed you any? :); January 19, 2012 at 5:28 PM
erin said...: marion:) more poetry to put on my list. an endorsement from you goes a long way.

xo
erin; January 20, 2012 at 7:26 PM
quid said...: New poet to me...although I've seen him on your blog. This looks wonderful!

quid; January 21, 2012 at 12:27 PM
Serena said...: Good for Ben! It sounds terrific.; January 21, 2012 at 9:51 PM

I Love Lorrie Moore!!

“You’re not a poetess, I hope,” said the English geologist next to her. “We had a poetess here last month, and things got a bit dodgy here for the rest of us.”

“Really.” After the soup, there was risotto with squid ink.

“Yes. She kept referring to insects as ‘God’s typos’ and then she kept us all after dinner one evening so she could read from her poems, which seemed to consist primarily of the repeating line ‘the hairy kiwi of his balls.’”

From: “Birds of America” by Lorrie Moore, page 266, ‘Terrific Mother’

Miranda July's Best Book:

"Do you have doubts about life? Are you unsure if it is worth the trouble? Look at the sky: that is for you. Look at each person's face as you pass on the street: those faces are for you. And the street itself, and the ground under the street, and the ball of fire underneath the ground: all these things are for you. They are as much for you as they are for other people. Remember this when you wake up in the morning and think you have nothing. Stand up and face the east. Now praise the sky and praise the light within each person under the sky. It's okay to be unsure. But praise, praise, praise." From: "No One Belongs Here More Than You Stories by Miranda July", Page 11

A Dreamy, Drug of a Book

"The minute you land in New Orleans, something wet and dark leaps on you and starts humping you like a swamp dog in heat, and the only way to get that aspect of New Orleans off you is to eat it off. That means beignets and crayfish bisque and jambalaya, it means shrimp remoulade, pecan pie and red beans with rice, it means elegant pompano au papillote, funky file z'herbes, and raw oysters by the dozen, it means grillades for breakfast, a po' boy with chowchow at bedtime, and tubs of gumbo in between. It is not unusual for a visitor to the city to gain fifteen pounds in a week---yet the alternative is a whole lot worse. If you don't eat night and day, if you don't constantly funnel the indigenous flavors into your bloodstream, then the mystery beast will go right on humping you, and you will feel its sordid presence rubbing against you long after you have left town." ~Tom Robbins, "Jitterbug Perfume", page 240