Living Above the Frost Line is a dwelling place for practicing poets. It is the home of poet, Nancy Simpson. Above the Frost Line we give ourselves some extra growing time. Yes, we know the hard freeze will come, but until it arrives, we shall grow and share our poems.
Nancy Simpson's LIVING ABOVE THE FROST LINE, New and Selected Poems was published by Carolina Wren Press (N.C. Laureate Series, 2010.) She is the author of ACROSS WATER and NIGHT STUDENT, State Street Press, still available on WWW at Alibris and Books Again. Her poems have been published in Southern Poetry Review, Prairie Schooner, The Georgia Review and other literary magazines.
"Carolina Bluebirds" was published in THE POETS GUIDE TO THE BIRDS, Anhinga Press). "Grass" was reprinted in the 50th Anniversary Issue of Southern Poetry Review: DON'T LEAVE HUNGRY ( U.of Arkansas Press.) Seven poems were reprinted in the textbook, SOUTHERN APPALACHIAN POETRY,(McFarland.) Two poems were published in SOLO CAFE, Two more poems were published in SOLO NOVO."In the Nantahala Gorge" was published in Pisgah Review. "Studying Winter" was reprinted in Pirene's Fountain Anthology and "The Collection" in Collecting Life Anthology.
Most recently, Southern Poetry Review Edited by James Smith, published "Our Great Depression," and The Southern Poetry Anthology Vol. VII: NORTH CAROLINA,Edited by William Wright, reprinted "Leaving in the Dead of Winter."
"There is a Side to the Chicken-Human Relationship that is Deep and Quite Serious," Says POET OF THE MONTH Jeannette Cabanis-Brewin
Monday, January 17, 2011
Hello Jeannette, I'm still snowed in, but at last the snow is melting. Please send more poems, any other info, and another photo if you wish. --Nancy Simpson
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Ok, sure thing. I"m attaching a shaped poem: I hope you can do this on the blog. It is going to be in the forthcoming Spring edition of the Great Smokies Review, published by UNCA. It's a poem that is part of my new project, which is writing an entire chapbook about my chickens. This makes people laugh when I tell them but actually there is a side to the chicken-human relationship that is deep and quite serious ... the attached poem touches on this.
At Zipingpu Ferry,
the news photographer snapped
them escaping the earthquake in Sichuan:
the man with a face you long to turn away from,
a landscape seared and flooded with grief. He’s wailing
some words you in your safe house cannot think of, the dirty
jacket he’s wearing is all he brought away, except for the girlchild
asleep on his breast. Her face, though streaked with grime, is cherubic,
the cheek sweet as a cup of milk and you thank Heaven she has at last,
exhausted, turned her back on the broken world. The smooth and
central magic of the picture – of our world – is in the delicate cup
of her hand: a blush- brown egg — the one thing she has
held onto, even in sleep. Its weight and curve are a
world still unbroken, where plenty was daily,
nested safe in her pocket. Now it’s a meal
or a memory or – if she can keep it
warm enough long enough –
-- Jeannette Cabanis-Brewin
(In Dujiangyan, a hard-hit city, right, a girl held an egg as her father carried her to safety.)
Here is a link to where readers can see the photo it describes: