Rainforest In Russet by Cynthia Sharp

Candle-Ends: Reviews
Shelley Carpenter


Rainforest in Russet by Cynthia Sharp

“Elegant, evocative, nostalgic” are three words that come to mind after reading Cynthia Sharp’s dazzling poems from Rainforest in Russet (Silver Bow Publishing, 2018), a collection that drew me in from the first lovely lines of the title poem, “Rainforest in Russet.”

In the silence

between
breaths,

my truth rises.

I fall into the space
Where the forest

captures
light.

The poems in Sharp’s collection pay tribute to earthly delights. They are evocative vignettes of emotion, steeped in longing, a nostalgia or a gratefulness for something or someone. Gratitude is a word I have heard a lot of lately. I have thought a lot about its meaning and for me, how evoking its presence brings comfort in uncertain times.

Gratitude

The shades of orange
in the petals of a daisy,
the scent of sea in summer,
the beach on a Tuesday evening,
sunlight and slower days,
the way it’s possible
to love again,
a groundedness in home,
like the stars there every night,
waiting on the moon.

Nostalgia is another theme that shimmers below the surface. I caught a glimpse of it in an autobiographical poem called “A Tribute to Orange” where Sharp uses tints and shades of color to paint a picture of her past.

the glow of the neighbor’s porch light
Through rain
Amber warmth reflected in puddles
Like Paris café candles in the night.

The first colour I see
Mixed with violet
When I close my eyes.

I loved the way she ended this poem and yes, I closed my eyes.

Many of the poems have this dream-like quality that create a sense of finding joy, peace in the moment such as in the poem, “The Sojourner’s Way,” which reminds me of my late afternoon wooded walks with my dog, Skye, where my problems start to shrink with each joyful step and I return to myself.

In the haven of silence
I no longer carry
everyone’s blind spots
put some of it down
let nirvana return.

My fallen tree uprooted no more
thunder, rain, time
cherry petals in a sea of blue
the swoosh of a sand stream
emptied of unwanted current
gentle mist beyond

slow journeys
the softness of wind in birch leaves
heart of green   earth   breathing
these afternoons before I go to the forest

only a tiny fraction makes it to the light
but that fraction embodies all.

Indeed, Sharp’s poems also capture the idea of the connection of the human spirit to nature. A communion. Nature abounds in all the poems, particularly in the changing of seasons.

This collection seeped into my soul. My typical routine when reading a collection is to go slowly, reading each poem with careful thought with my morning coffee, and then think about them through the course of my day, pondering meaning and finding truth. Living in a pandemic changed my world in unexpected ways; I found solace in Sharp’s collection. My daily walks tripled, and I began taking a closer look at the beauty in my backyard forest. I watch the trees, looking for signs of renewal—of Spring as l wish for summer winds to blow away the pandemic and its accompanying chilly spring. I daydream of June.

amid quiet full trees

waking up in June with sunlight and time
the invisible rise up
the way the tips of the dogwood touch clouds
and luminosity returns
waiting on the birth

Halfway through Rainforest in Russet, I noted a shift in Sharp’s poems. A new landscape and subject. The words were still evocative and natural but there was something else more personal. Poignant.

The Summer We Never Had” and this excerpt from “the Bohemian” speak of time and a place and lost love.

along the way,
as I lost myself
into late autumn evenings,
a lonely barge along the night river,
still seeking you
as red leaves fell softly
into dark water.

My heart pinched when I read this part of “Somnambulant Web” in its very visual graphic layout on the page.

I hold on
Because deep down,
I know,
There was only you.

This next poem was my favorite and even though I’ve never heard of its title, I understood…

Selenophilia

Reflecting back
to long lost loves and youth,
days of working in restaurants
in fast-paced east coast cities
and falling in love
under stars and fireflies at night,
I surrender my sorrow
to the cherry petals,
fluttering on the wind
like a thousand tiny butterflies
lingering in the light.

Rainforest in Russet is a gorgeous collection that is a perfect read for today’s new world. Its evocative scenery takes the reader on a wooded walk within its pages and is a nostalgic time-travel to a different earth. It belongs on every teacher’s shelf. Cynthia Sharp’s collection casts a dreamy, dazzling light that beguiles the senses and the spirit.

*

Cynthia Sharp was the city of Richmond’s 2019 Writer in Residence, where she taught poetry, flash fiction, and screenwriting. She is a full member of The League of Canadian Poets, The Writers Union of Canada. Sharp served two years as a regional director for The Federation of British Columbia Writers and a 2020 judge for the Pandora’s Collective International Poetry Contest. She is the founder and main instructor for The Zen of Poetry, a Zen workshop writing series for individuals and groups. Cynthia is featured at numerous literary events throughout North America. Her work has appeared in literary journals such as Toasted Cheese, Nature Poems, Ascent Aspirations Magazine, My Word Wizard, and Piker Press. She has been recognized globally, nominated for The Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net Anthology.

The Zen of PoetryCynthia Sharp Poet’s Corner
Cynthia’s Goodreads Author Page | Cynthia’s Amazon Author Page

Readings from Rainforest In Russet

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Shelley Carpenter is TC’s Reviews Editor. Email: reviews[at]toasted-cheese.com

Two Poems

Poetry
Cynthia Sharp


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Photo Credit: Nikolai Vassiliev

The Summer We Never Had

In the summer we never had
there is time
for endless evenings
of coffee and poetry
conversation
amid the spark of fireflies
in the city heat

as voices from late night
gatherings on porches
drift in open windows
I no longer pretend
you are in my room
just to study

we are no longer pending
on outside approval
only the potential
we elevate
each other to

in the summer we never had
I don’t have to be
anything more than I am
and it doesn’t matter
that my hair finds its way
into dreadlocks

there is red wine and lovemaking
daisies that last the night
my single bed is luxurious enough
and I never have to get over you

I taste forever
how it would have been
and never let you go

 

Inviting Jesus to Tea

When Jesus enters the circle
dress casual and warm
allow spaces
for his wisdom
don’t be embarrassed
when he appears
at the ceremony
keep on praying
all my relations
invite him to dance
He is a relation

When he stays for tea
wear mauve
use the best china
keep on praying
Aboriginal and
do rub his feet
He’s probably tired
of what’s been done
in his name

“Inviting Jesus to Tea” was inspired on Vancouver Island in the spring of ’97. We were called upon in a Medicine Circle to invite all our relations, when the spirit of my maternal grandmother brought Jesus with her into the Aboriginal healing ceremony, compelling me to be in unison all the parts of who I am.

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Cynthia Sharp is currently at work on a trilogy of fantasy novels in between poems lamenting her lost twenties. She studied creative writing at York University in Toronto, where she wishes she had spent more summers.