Wine Press: anthology of heavy poetry

Stan Schmidt

Format ISBN Price   Paperback (6x9) 9781418433260 $ 13.50

Stan Schmidt was born in North Dakota. He has lived in Minneapolis the past fifteen years. He has a degree in Theology and has spent time overseas. His interests include NASCAR, heavy metal music, theological discussions and going to coffee shops. He’s a self-made and unlearned poet. He daily puts his life experiences into poetic form.

This is Stan Schmidt’s fifth book written in a one year time period. This book is an anthology because it contains the best poems out of his first four books. Gate to the Soul, The Weeping Poet, The Musing Poet, and The Solitary Poet. There are many new poems in the Wine Press as well. The poems within this book are heavy and personal, yet layered with mystery. This poetry paints vivid pictures of a person trying to deal with the disappointments of life. The author brings the reader on a fascinating journey through his dark night of the soul.

BLESSED RHYME

 

how long does one sustain piety

living in the dregs of society

character is tested with fire

yet of the burning I sure do tire

I cannot tell

if I am being made well

or becoming worse

giving way to the curse

because my soul’s been blistered

by this blasted cistern

and the only avenue

to get through

is pouring out my thoughts

hopefully connecting some dots

since putting into rhyme and verse

has very well saved me from the hearse

harnessing the pain

my poems have kept me sane

for fun flies when you’re doing time

but I cover my prison with rhyme

and if I would have spent this eternal night

without the ability to write

I’d be a fish in a waterless aquarium

the call being clarion

reserving my stay at the psycho ward

for reality would have severed the cord

but poetry came to the fore

giving me a little time more

surviving on probation time

thank you blessed rhyme

because if I would not have written

the snake would have bitten

poisoning beyond antidote

since life has cut my throat

but sitting in my chair

penning my despair

has been my only release

yet that without peace

but nonetheless

poetry’s caress

has soothed my soul

so this dark night did not take it’s toll