"I have been reading the poems of Ed Oestreich with enormous pleasure. His keen and graceful eye examines a wide variety of human experience, encompassing the cycles of life, the vicissitudes of growing old, the small pleasures of nature and the roll of the seasons. These lovely poems, no matter what their subject, are somehow imbued with the quite rhythm of life on the seacoast of Maine. I wholeheartedly recommend this wonderful book of poetry, FAR FROM HOME."
-NEW YORK TIMES BEST SELLER LIST AUTHOR - Douglas Preston, Author of The Monster of Florence and Cities of Gold.
In his book of poetry, Far From Home, Ed Oestreich has used ink wells' tears of collective memory to pen his verse. These poems are reminiscent of Emily Dickinson in elegance and style. Many of the poems speak of the melancholy loss of growing older - but always followed with words - of an exquisite 'returning in recollections...
Our tender dreams grow gray, entangling
beards. And then, somehow, miraculously,
the ices thaw and the fields again are
green. The old calliope begins its
siren song again and years of tiredness
dissolve. It's spring again!
Far from Home is a spiritual journey. The reader is still
on the slender torso of Mr. Oestreich's "dragonfly to
ride the winds to places...
where only poets dare to go."
-Kelly Patton
Professional Theatre Director,
Author
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
The Journey Lost
The Journey Lost
Sad admiration as ember spreads a
flame and bridges burn.
There is no going back. A discontented spark
ignites and on a distant shore forever turned
away fond memories that can be no more.
In thinner lines the days draw out
ahead. Their numbers fewer: until the pall
of Winter and of night engulfs them
all. It is a time alone. And
bleak. I am too weak to build again.
Why to such an end? When earlier on
the little wounds would quickly heal. No
more. The greatest hurt of all I’ve
brought upon myself in setting torch to bridges.
Alone the frightening walk into a vast unknown.
The journey ends in slow defeat unless, not looking
back, a lantern glows ahead held up to mark a path
for me to tread, to cross a bridge that someone else
has built - and take me somewhere
else into a place that’ s not as yet been spoiled
e. w. oestreich
26 September 2010
Sad admiration as ember spreads a
flame and bridges burn.
There is no going back. A discontented spark
ignites and on a distant shore forever turned
away fond memories that can be no more.
In thinner lines the days draw out
ahead. Their numbers fewer: until the pall
of Winter and of night engulfs them
all. It is a time alone. And
bleak. I am too weak to build again.
Why to such an end? When earlier on
the little wounds would quickly heal. No
more. The greatest hurt of all I’ve
brought upon myself in setting torch to bridges.
Alone the frightening walk into a vast unknown.
The journey ends in slow defeat unless, not looking
back, a lantern glows ahead held up to mark a path
for me to tread, to cross a bridge that someone else
has built - and take me somewhere
else into a place that’ s not as yet been spoiled
e. w. oestreich
26 September 2010
Far From Home - Selected Poems by e w oestreich ...
Far From Home: Selected Poems by e.w. oestreich Published December 2010. $14.95 plus shipping. Book may be ordered from e.w. oestreich, thebench@midcoast.com
or Goose River Press http://www.gooseriverpress.com/
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