Showing posts with label His Brother's Bride. Show all posts
Showing posts with label His Brother's Bride. Show all posts

Monday, April 18, 2022

April is Poetry Month by Nancy M Bell

 


For more information about Nancy's books click on the cover.

BREAKING NEWS
HIS BROTHER'S BRIDE IS NOW AVAILABLE IN AUDIO FORMAT

Since April is National Poetry Month I thought I'd share some different poetry formats with you.

Poetic form is the physical structure of the work. It consists of the length of the lines, the rhythms and repetitions. Poetic forms are applied to works that are shaped into a pattern. Free verse is not constricted by poetic form and is indeed a type of form in its own right.

The Idyll. This is a short poem describing rustic life and is usually written in the style of Theocritus’ short pastoral poem ‘Idylls.  Lord Alfred Tennyson’s Idylls of the King is an example.

Blank Verse - written in a precise metre - usually Iambic Pentametre 

Sonnet- which Shakespeare liked  A sonnet consists of 14 lines and was made popular in the 14th century and the Italian Renaissance. Sir Thomas Wyatt is credited with introducing the sonnet into English literature in the 16th century. The rhyming theme in a Petrachan sonnet is abba abba cdecde, the Shakespearean sonnet follows the rhyming pattern of abab cdcd efef gg

Ode  The word Ode is from the Greek aeidein which means to chant or sing and belongs to the tradition of lyric poetry. This form in it’s earliest incarnation was accompanied by music and dance, but later evolved when used by the Romantic poets to convey their strongest thoughts and emotions. William Wordsworth for example. It is generally a formal address to an person, thing or event that is not present.

Haiku. This is a short poem which conveys the essence of an experience of nature. Written in English in the Japanese haiku style

Ballad  This is often a narrative set to music. The word Ballad comes from the Latin ballare which translates to dancing song. A Ballad is a form meant for singing, connected to its origin of communal dance and a product of oral traditions among peoples who cling to oral histories as opposed to written.

Epic  This is a long narrative in verse form telling of a heroic person, persons or journey. Homer’s Illiad and the Odyssey for example.

Elegy   This is a funeral song. It is a melancholy, nostalgic poem created to mourn the death of someone close to your heart. The first elegies were in Roman and Greek.

Lyric  Lyric is a form of poetry sung and/or accompanied by a musical instrument or a poem that expresses intense emotions on a personal level in a way that is suggestive of a song or singing. A Lyric makes the poet vulnerable by showing their thoughts and feelings and often evokes those emotions in the listener.

Poetic form is the physical structure of the work. It consists of the length of the lines, the rhythms and repetitions. Poetic forms are applied to works that are shaped into a pattern. Free verse is not constricted by poetic form and is indeed a type of form in its own right.

My favourite is a Sestina.

A complex French verse form, usually unrhymed, consisting of six stanzas of six lines each and a three-line envoy (The brief stanza that ends French poetic forms) The end words of the first stanza are repeated in a different order as end words in each of the subsequent five stanzas; the closing envoy contains all six words, two per line, placed in the middle and at the end of the three lines. The patterns of word repetition are as follows, with each number representing the final word of a line, and each row of numbers representing a stanza:


          1 2 3 4 5 6
          6 1 5 2 4 3
          3 6 4 1 2 5
          5 3 2 6 1 4
          4 5 1 3 6 2
          2 4 6 5 3 1

          (6 2) (1 4) (5 3)  

Below is my humble attempt at a sestina.

Seasonal Sestina

 

Why is it that the first flowers of Spring

Are so special and the green of new leaves

Wakes a wild joy in my heart

Is it because they signal the end of Winter

Filled with the promise of long summer days

And the lazy hum of honey bees among the flowers

 

The tiny white snowdrops are among the first flowers

Along with the purple crocus of Spring

Courageously piercing the snow with their leaves

Small purple clusters to gladden my heart

Throwing a gauntlet in the face of Winter

Shining brightly through the short Spring days

 

The snow retreats with the lengthening of days

The garden paths are strewn with clots of flowers

The sweet bouquet of flower scented Spring

Bright daffodils dance above their pointed leaves

The tulips glowing red as the sun’s heart

They chase from the path the last of snowy Winter

 

Now only under the brambles lies the evidence of Winter

Soon that too will retreat from the sunny days

The lilacs burst into a froth of fragrant purple flowers

The scent mingling with the sun warmed air of Spring

Slow awakening summer flowers break the soil with their leaves

Heralding the coming of Summer’s heart

 

Spring passes softly into summer; the pulsing green heart

That rules the year opposite the white of Winter

The long halcyon green and gold days

Forged by the fire of the sun and the glory of flowers

There is just the faintest memory now of Spring

The full heady bounty of Summer canopied by trees of leaves

 

In due course fiery autumn will colour the leaves

And the flames of October will quicken the heart

The winds of snow will welcome the Winter

The frosty silver and blue of early winter days

Will make us forget the summer of flowers

Too new and beautiful yet to make us wish for Spring

 

By January we will be wishing for green leaves and Spring

Our heart will have hardened against the silver beauty of Winter

And we will hunger after the days of Summer and flowers 


Til next month, stay well, stay happy.




Friday, March 18, 2022

Happy Dancing! by Nancy M Bell

 

To learn more about Nancy and her books click on the cover.


Soooooo, a little sneaky preview. I can share this as my post doesn't go live until March 18th and the big reveal is on March 17th.  His Brother's Bride, and indeed, all the Canadian Historical Brides books will soon be available as fully accessible audio books. There will be Daisy/NNELS files available for those who require them. This is a huge step forward for us at BWL Publishing Inc and I for one am very excited about it.

Now, more good news! My book of poetry, Touchstone 2015 was reviewed by Miguel Angel Olive Iglesias in his latest book  A Shower of Warm Light. Miguel is editor in chief of the Canada Cuba Literary Alliance (CCLA) magazine The Ambassador and president of the CCLA. He is a member of the Mexican Association of Language and Literary Professors, VP of William Shakespeare Study Centre and member of of the Canadian Studies Department of the Holguin University in Cuba.

I am more than thrilled and certainly humbled to be included in this book, along with many highly successful Canadian poets. I must thank James Deahl, the editor of Tamaracks, Canadian Poetry for the 21st Century for including my poem Henge in his book and encouraging me to send my poetry to Miguel.

Miguel says of my work:

"Her book (Touchstone) is a reminder of how connected we are to the essences of life and points to our origins, our guiding principles, our salvation. It is a book about, with and for love. It exudes gratefulness and wholeheartedness from the very first proposal, "Touchstone," to its last poem, "Lost in Choices."

He goes on to say:
"Bell connects nature with the human condition in the last stanza (of "Tide") using a versatile expressive means, simile: The tide is coming in/sliding up the shore/Sure and steady as mothers love." She is able to link the sureness and steadiness of the ever-lapping sea with love, a leitmotif in her creation."

In conclusion he says of my poem "Still in Love" and my work in general :
"As I said at the beginning, this is a book of love. Bell has a gift: she is able to pour out words with an emphatic and empathic tone that catches the reader as she turns concrete occurrences and a great love into an ever-lasting experience: "The memory of  what we had/ And what we were to each other....// With the summer days we lived together/ And the love we shared."

I am totally humbled by his words. I write poetry because it comes to me, like breathing. Usually already whole and complete  just waiting for me to put the words on paper. It's something that I've done from a very early age and something that I enjoy. It also has a cathartic aspect, as putting emotion into words helps to exorcise pain and help me heal, and also to express the beauty that abounds around us. So much beauty that it would break my heart if I didn't set it free and share it.

Until next month, stay well, be happy.







  


Wednesday, November 18, 2020

In Memory ~ Never Forget by Nancy M Bell

To find out more about Nancy's work click on the cover above. 
 My novel His Brother's Bride is very roughly based on my grandparent's story. We lived with my grandparents when I was younger and I can vividly remember my grandfather shaving and picking bits of shrapnel out of his face. This was many years after the end of World War One. Both Grampa Pritchard and his brother came to Canada as Dr. Barnardo's home children. They were shipped from Liverpool sheltering homes to eastern Ontario. Although they came a year apart, they were fortunate enough to end up close to each other near Eaganville Ontario. Grampa was given to the Wilcox family, Uncle Joe with the Mills. When World War One broke out he volunteered and lied about his age in order to be sent to Europe. His brother, my great Uncle Joe, enlisted after Grampa did. Grampa was a sapper and part of the engineering corps who went ahead to set up first aide areas and infrastructure. Along with others, he was buried for three days in rubble when the area they were working in was bombed. He was also gassed with mustard gas on six different occasions. 
 Uncle Joe was a private in the 21st Battalion of the Canadian Infantry (Eastern Ontario Regiment) and was lost on August 8, 1918 in an early morning Somme offensive near the village of Marcelcave at the age of 25. He is buried in France at Crucifix Corner Cemetary Villers-Bretonneux which is a village in the Department of the Somme, on the road from Amiens to St Quentin. CRUCIFIX CORNER CEMETERY is south of the village at the crossing of the road to Demuin and the road from Cachy to Marcelcave. 
Following the war, the British War Medal, Victory Medal, Plaque (Dead Man’s Penny) and Scroll were sent to his brother, Herbert Pritchard, c/o C.B. St. George, Sprucedale, Ontario
I wrote the following poem for Uncle Joe. 
 Somme Sleep 
 Crouched and ready we wait, 
Dawn is late in coming 
And when it does it is shrouded In mist and fog 
It is more than the damp and wet 
That sends the shivers over our skin 
Anticipation and fear war with each other 
Where are the tanks that are supposed to support us? 

 Sky and earth merge when we peek over the top 
Stitched together by mizzle and mist 
Yards away, across the trampled earth 
The enemy crouch and wait as we do 
 Where are the tanks? The support? 
Whispers and rumours run up and down the line 
Then—suddenly the wait is over 
“Over the top, boys,” the sergeant yells 

 And we go 
Surging out of our earthen burrows 
Running, firing blind, blinking in the fog
 No time to think, only to run and fire 
Ducking bullets whining by our ears 
 Then—it stops I open my mouth and spit mud 
Blood, hot and cold runs through my fingers 
The old guys were right 
There is no pain when it happens 
Just a mixed sensation of disbelief 
And relief… 
 Even if I die right here in the mud 
It’s over: 
 The fear; 
 the wet; 
 the lice;
 the killing. 
 Somewhere my mates are yelling and shots echo 
But around me there is an odd silence 
A separation from the man-made hell 
One hand clutching my gut, the other somehow still wrapped around my rifle 
I let the lark song sing me to sleep. 
 Copyright 2020 Nancy M Bell 

Thursday, January 18, 2018

His Brother's Bride is now available in French ~ Nancy M Bell



I am excited to announce the release of His Brother's Bride in the French edition. This is the first title of mine to be translated and released in another language, so I'm a little chuffed. You can click on the cover to see it.

This has been a busy year with His Brother's Bride releasing in March of 2017 and then I was asked to take over the creation of the Manitoba book for this collection. I partnered with Margaret Kyle as my research assistant and go to source of all things Mennonite in southern Manitoba. Landmark Roses is the result of that collaboration and the title released in November of 2017.

Click on the cover for the buy link.

Elsie Nuefeld loves to sit on her porch and watch the children grow in the Mennonite community near Landmark, MB. Returning to the area after moving to Paraguay for a time, Elsie is happy to be living on the wild rose dotted prairie of south-eastern Manitoba. Her granddaughters are growing up and getting married, it's an exciting time. Secure in her long standing marriage to Ike, Elsie is content to observe the community from the sidelines and rejoice in the joys of the young ones. She often walks with her daughters and granddaughters through the graveyard abloom with wild roses and shares the stories of the ancestors sleeping there. It’s important, she feels, for the younger generation to feel connected to those who went before. Elsie hopes when she joins those resting beneath the Landmark roses the tradition of honouring the memory of the forebearers continues.

Then I also had a hand in the New Brunswick title, On A Stormy Primeval Shore. Partnered with Diane Scott Lewis, I served as research assistant and alpha reader for this title. It was a wonderful experience and everyone I contacted for obscure information was very helpful. We are hoping to do some events in New Brunswick this June. On A Stormy Primeval Shore just released on January 1, 2018.

Click on the cover for the buy link.

In 1784, Englishwoman Amelia Latimer sails to the new colony of New Brunswick in faraway Canada. She’s to marry a man chosen by her soldier father. Amelia is repulsed by her betrothed, refuses to marry, then meets the handsome Acadian trader, Gilbert, a man beneath her in status. Gilbert must protect his mother who was attacked by an English soldier. He fights to hold on to their property, to keep it from the Loyalists who have flooded the colony, desperate men chased from the south after the American Revolution. In a land fraught with hardship, Amelia and Gilbert struggle to overcome prejudice, political upheaval, while forging a life in a remote country where events seek to destroy their love and lives.

All the titles in this series have been well received and garnered excellent reviews.

And to top it all off, my very first translated work!

until next post, stay well, stay happy, stay healthy

Thursday, May 18, 2017

Well, what have I been up to? by Nancy M Bell


You can click here to find out more about His Brother's Bride.

Now on to the good stuff. I just got back from a 15 day cruise from Fort Lauderdale to Los Angeles. I know! How cool is that? It was a wonderful time with stops in Aruba, Cartagena, Columbia, the Panama Canal, Puentareans Puerto Rico, San Juan del Sur Nicaragua, Huatalco Mexico ( a well kept secret) and Puerto Vallarta Mexico. We went on two tours through mangroves. One outside Caragena where the water was thigh deep and there were no crocodiles. We got in low riding dug out canoes which a local guide poled through the waters past birds and a fisherman who demonstrated how to fish with his net. Then a taste of coconut water right out of the coconut and traditional dancing. I got to take part with a young native man, what a blast. The mangrove in Puerto Rico were another story. We sailed along (in a much bigger boat than Cartagena) the Tarcolas River seeing many birds and lizards. The waters are deep and they do contain many crocodiles! We saw some smaller younger ones and then were thrilled to see Tornado (as the locals call him) The crocodile is a huge 14 feet long. He lay half-submerged only a few feet from us. Then submerged and went off in search non vigilant cattle looking to drink from the water's edge.


Panama Canal was amazing, takes all day to go through the three locks and across Gatun Lake.

In Nicaragua, we visited a 16th century church built by the Spainards. Then we traveled to Amaya which is where the first female president of Nicaragua lived, it is now a resort for people to relax at. No WIFI, no TV etc. It is right on the huge Lake Nicaragua which is home to two large volcanoes. The acid rain from the volcanoes can be an issue for the surrounding farmers. The flowering trees were spectacular, the rainy season is just starting so much of the landscape was sere and brown, but starting to bloom.

In Puerto Rico brilliant yellow trees flared on the hill sides, they are called Yellow Oak by the locals or The Sun Is Shining Tree. We also saw Plumeria trees blooming in Mexico and Nicaragua.

I didn't manage to get any good pictures of the beautiful yellow trees. I've also been keeping busy promoting my Canadian Historical Bride book His Brother's Bride. Here's a small excerpt:

From Chapter Eight

The low winter sun bathed the snow in a red-orange glow and touched the bare trees with gold. Annie’s breath puffed out before her as she struggled to wade through the knee deep snow. Where were those blasted cows? She’d searched all their usual haunts when they managed to knock down the cedar rail snake fence. Today they’d simply walked over the top of it where this afternoon’s wind piled the drift high and hard enough to make easy passage.
She glanced at the sun. If they didn’t miraculously appear soon she’d have to leave them. Father would be livid, but there was no way Annie wished to be caught in the wintery bush after sunset. The moon was full and the chorus of hunting wolves had serenaded her for the past two nights while she lay with the quilts pulled up to her nose in bed.
Sighing, she stopped on the edge of the gully where the small creek lay frozen below. No sign of the five cows she was searching for. Thank heavens for small mercies the bull was in the barn and so she wasn’t also dealing with his fractious nature. Most of the time the animal was quite tractable for her, but in the bush with his harem…? Annie shook her head. Quit woolgathering, girl. Or you will be wolf bait. She let go of the trunk of the maple sapling she was using to balance and stepped back. The wind changed and she froze. Is that them? Is that Sally’s bell?
The evening wind carried the distinct, but faint, clang of a cow bell. Annie frowned, they never headed east when they went on a ramble, especially in the winter. Setting her jaw, she turned her footsteps toward the sound. Now she’d found a trace of the missing animals she couldn’t very well in all good faith head for home. Although that was exactly what her frozen fingers and toes were urging her to do. Wrapping the scarf tighter around her neck and lower face she set off.
A branch sprang back at her and slapped her cold cheek. Uttering words which would earn her a beating if Father ever heard her, Annie blinked back the sting of tears and plowed on. If only Steve and Evan were home she wouldn’t be out in the rapidly darkening woods on her own. Ivan was helping search but only closer to the house. Why couldn’t the stupid war in Europe just end? Annie missed her brothers more than she ever thought she would and not just because they made her lot in life easier. She forced herself to keep moving, distracting herself with thoughts of the war and her brothers. Evan’s last letter had the return address of a convalescent home, he said he was fine but had come down with the influenza that seemed to be running rampant through the wet muddy trenches in Belgium and France. Some associates of Father’s in London had sent some newspapers with their last post. Of course they made the whole affair seem much more glory filled than it was, but Father said if you read between the lines and what they weren’t saying you could determine a great deal.
A loud moo startled Annie so she nearly tripped and landed on her bum. Only by grasping a young birch sapling did she manage to avoid falling. However, the tree did dump its small load of snow on her head. Yelping, she jumped back and beat the wet snow from her coat and scarf. The light was fading and the bush was full of deepening shadow. The cow mooed again and she turned in that direction. In a few minutes she came across the track the silly things had beaten in the snow. Moving quicker on the easier going Annie called for the herd. If she was lucky they would be cold and hungry and quite tired of their adventure and happy to come to a familiar voice. Only Sally and Maud were still milking, but their udders should be making their demands made by now too. Another point in Annie’s favour.
Shoving through some serviceberry bushes she emerged into a bit of a clearing. Releasing a sigh of relief at the sight of all five missing bovines, she spread her arms and began herding them back toward the barnyard. The sun was mostly behind the trees and low hills but there was still enough light in the sky for her to determine which way was home. A long shivering howl rose into the clear royal blue heavens which was answered by another and then another.
“C’mon, girls. Get moving unless you’d rather be somebody’s dinner.” She waved her arms and the cattle obligingly moved off toward home. Annie smiled, their sense of direction when it came to food and home was probably more finally honed than her own. Although, left on their own they would have stayed where they were waiting for someone to come find them and urge them home.
“Need some help?” George’s voice sounded from the deep shadow just to the right of the trail.
“George? Is that you?” Annie couldn’t keep the breathlessness sound from her voice. “You scared the life out of me,” she declared coming even with him. “How did you know where to find me?”
“Ivan told me which way you were planning to go.” He fell into step beside her, the cows moving ahead of them at a quicker pace now.
“You went to the house? Was that wise?” She frowned at him.
“Just by luck Mister Miller sent me with a message for your father. It was fairly late when I arrived and Ivan was just coming in from the bush. Mister Baldwin was worried for you and I volunteered to go out and look for you. Your mother didn’t want him out in the dark with that cold he has.”
“Well, I’m glad it was you who found me. Go on, git up there, girls,” she interrupted herself to urge the cows on.
“I’m happy to hear that.” George took her mittened hand in his.
“You must be frozen! Where are your mitts?” Annie was aghast to see his hand was bare.
“Don’t have any, I’m afraid.” He shrugged.
“Why, that ridiculous! Surely the Millers can spare you a pair of mitts!”
“Not so far, but the winter’s young yet. It’s just the end of November.”
Annie stopped in her tracks digging in the big pockets of her coat. She pulled out a pair of thick hand knit mittens and shoved them at him. “Here, they’re a bit tattered, but they’re warm.”
“No, now. They’re yours, I can’t just take them.” George shook his head.
She ducked her head. “I made them myself. It would please me if you would wear them.”
“In that case, how can I refuse,” he replied gallantly and pulled the mitts over his reddened hands.
“Oh, I can see the lights of the house. We’re almost home. You must come in and get warm,” Annie insisted. The cows broke into a shambling trot at the scent of home and scrambled back over the drift and broken fence into the barn yard.
George halted and caught her hands again. “I mustn’t. Mister Miller was expecting me back some time ago. I still have chores to do there.”
She tipped her head back to see his face better in the strengthening moonlight. “You won’t be in any trouble will you? For being late, I mean?”
“I would for sure, except your father was kind enough to write me a note explaining he asked me to go and look for his lost cows. No, that should set things right.” He paused and leaned down to brush her cheek with his. “You go on in the house, I’ll lock the cows in the barn and throw them some hay. I have permission to borrow a lantern for the walk home. Go on.” George released her hands and gave her a gentle push. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
“You will be careful? And be sure to take a full lantern.”
He nodded and moved toward the barn.
“Good night then, George,” she called softly.
“Good night, Annie.” His voice floated back to her through the moonlit shadows.






Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Sailing , Sailing.... By Nancy M Bell



His Brother's Bride Book 2 in the Canadian Historical Brides series. Click here for more info on this title.

When you all read this I will be sailing the ocean blue. At least it better be blue and sunny and hot. It's time for a break after a long winter of writing and researching. My contribution to Books We Love Canadian Historical Brides series released March 1. I'm excited about it and it has garnered some very nice reviews.
But back to the break, May 7 will be our 40th anniversary so Doug and I are taking a Panama Canal Cruise aboard the Coral Princess. A bit early, but that's okay. We leave April 16 to fly to Fort Lauderdale via Toronto, then the next day we board the ship at Port Everglades. We arrive in Los Angeles on May 2 and then fly home. We've done this cruise before with a bit of a different itinerary. The first time we went west to east, ending up in Fort Lauderdale. While it was a wonderful trip, going west to east means you lose three hours as you pass though the different time zones. SO....This time we are going east to west which means three more hours of sleep for me!

We start in Fort Lauderdale, then we stop in Aruba, Cartagena Columbia, then through the canal (which takes a full day and the captain turns the ship over to the canal pilot for the day), after we reach the Pacific the next port is Puntarenus Costa Rica (which means Sandy Spit), then San Juan del Sur Nicaragua, Huatulco Mexico and Puerto Vallarta Mexico before docking in LA.

Below are some photos from our last cruise through the canal...See you in May!


In the Canal headed east.



Costa Rica Mangrove Swamp



First two are Costa Rica, then Cartagena Columbia

Til next month, stay well stay happy!

Saturday, February 18, 2017

Better Late than Never by Nancy M Bell



His Brother's Bride is the second release in Books We Love Canadian Historical Brides series to celebrate Canada's 150th Birthday. YOu can click on the image to be taken to my author page at Books We Love to see more.

I apologize for posting late this month. I'm off to beautiful Banff Alberta with Victoria Chatham, author of Brides of Banff Springs, and publisher Jude Pittman to promote the series with a reading at Banff Library. So I apologize again for the lateness and shortness of this post. But I leave you with images of the lovely mountain town I'm about to leave for. It's supposed to snow this afternoon so the roads may be a bit tricky but the scenery is certainly worth it.


Til next month...be well...be happy...buy my new book...opps did I say that out loud? LOL

Popular Posts

Books We Love Insider Blog

Blog Archive