| What critics have to say about A
Weakness for Men |
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| “The New Formalism stands Jill
Williams in good stead; it gives order to a life
of changing place and changing men. The reader is
charmed by the shapely and sure dance of the poem,
where the spirit of place is measured by the short
form of love. Jill Williams has an easy way with
words and her line is strong.” |
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| Penn Kemp, (CD-ROM On Our Own Spoke) |
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| “This book will surprise you;
its poetry is sexy, gutsy, deeply moving - and rhymed!
A passionate woman's adventures in love and travel
are told in sonnets, ballades, pantoums and other
forms, all with great technical skill. If you've
been waiting for formalist poetry to "get real",
you'll love Jill Williams.” |
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| Gail White, author of The Price of Everything |
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| “A prosodic odyssey through
intimacies and geographies, Jill Williams’A
Weakness for Men is a virtual tour de verse.
Crafted in traditional forms (ranging from ballade
to villanelle; pantoum to sonnet) and set in a variety
of far-flung locales (ranging from Montreal to Malibu
Beach; Halifax, Nova Scotia, to Sedona, Arizona),
its poems explore the motions — figurative
and literal — gone through by the loving,
the loveless, and the loved. Though A Weakness
commits wholly to high-brow poetics, its great strength
lies in its no-brow accessibility: Welcome, all,
between its covers.” |
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| Jim Simmerman |
Here are three sample pages:
Coping With Death
I loved the man so very much.
But when the cancer came along,
I turned to tennis as a crutch.
To help me cope; to keep me strong.
But when the cancer came along,
I chose this serve and volley game.
To help me cope; to keep me strong.
Some said I should be filled with shame.
I chose this serve and volley game
It gave me courage, self-respect.
Some said I should be filled with shame.
I wonder now in retrospect.
It gave me courage, self-respect.
I hid my heart on courts of clay.
I wonder now in retrospect.
What could have kept the pain away?
I hid my heart on courts of clay.
I turned to tennis as a crutch.
No matter what my critics say,
I loved the man so very much.
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Someplace New
Exactly how I got here I don’t know.
It had to do with Edward slowly dying.
I needed someplace new to let him go.
A change of scene to heal and help me grow,
To stop my hollow chest from always sighing.
Exactly how I got here I don’t know.
I'd reached a flat, emotionless plateau
Where breathing was the same to me as crying.
I needed someplace new to let him go.
Where pain and loss would melt away like snow
And hope might rise again like eagles flying.
Exactly how I got here, I don’t know.
I did a lot of pacing to-and-fro,
Debating if this trip would be worth trying.
I needed someplace new to let him go.
The day I came the clouds were thick and low
But even so my sorrow started drying.
Exactly how I got here, I don’t know.
I needed someplace new to let him go.
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October 24, 1989
The wedding was perfection, that’s for
sure.
I hardly knew a single person
there.
I wore a chiffon skirt and played demure
With autumn posies scattered
through my hair.
The groom stood proud. His
shoulders, straight and square.
Despite that penguin suit, he was a “hunk”.
And at the party, glasses
in mid-air,
We toasted `To true love!’ and then got
drunk.
My motives, I’ll admit, were less than
pure.
A trumped up marriage seemed
a bit unfair.
But as I scrawled my newest signature,
I didn’t think the government
would care.
No sex. That was our deal.
I made him swear.
I’d take the bed. The couch is where he’d
bunk.
A week went by. He bought
some wine to share.
We toasted `To true love!’ and then got
drunk.
What once was cut-and-dried becomes obscure.
He tells me he no longer feels
despair.
He wants to wed for real. I am his cure.
“I love you madly. Love
me, if you dare!”
I put him off. That sets him
on a tear.
“You lying little bitch! You sneaky skunk!”
His insults are too much for
me to bear.
I toast `To truer love!’ and then get
drunk.
L'Envoi
To you, it must seem sadly insecure.
I should have said “Adieu!”
and shipped my trunk.
But I was charmed by Canada’s allure.
Let’s toast her coastal
shores and then get drunk.
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