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Books

Soul Music

 

In the dark room, it stands alone

Whispering notes to those who listen

To those who live for the music

And cannot pass it by.

 

In the solitude, the piano waits alone

Echoing tunes to those who yearn

To those who beg for the melodies

And cannot leave its side.

 

In the desolation, the notes ring out

Sending music to those who need

To those who starve for the beauty

And cannot live without it.

 

In the silence, the black keys breathe,

Singing memories to those who remember

To those who lived through the songs

And will live through more.

 

In the dark room, it stands alone,

Whispering soul music to those who understand

To those who reminisce in the music

And hear it in their spirits ringing.

 

Jocelyn Mosman (c) 2012

Jocelyn's words are exactly what they promise: a painting of her soul. Reading through these poems is like touring an underground expanse of her heart. The walls bleed truth and passion, you can touch your ear to the ground and feel the tremor of her life pass through you. Every step forward is a new and exciting journey inward - a brave thing. A necessary thing. Jocelyn is a poet and storyteller in every sense - and this book, a tremendous invitation to explore what makes up her dark and light, her intimate and sticky, her message and her voice.
 

Melissa May Dunn, Author of Sparkle Fat

Soul Painting

 

I brush my soul on new canvas, 

A stroke of pain-

Purple as a butterfly's broken wing,

A stroke of beauty- 

Blue as the night skies in August,

A stroke of strength-

Brown as the dirt that covers our sunburnt skin,

A stroke of confidence-

Orange as an October sunset,

A stroke of femininity-

Pink as the blush that bepainted

Juliet's maiden cheeks,

A stroke of envy-

Green as his earthy eyes,

A stroke of weakness-

Red as the sun's rays on her wrists,

Painting a picture of a woman

On white, white canvas-

Innocence turned into a rainbow

Of understanding and youth. 

My soul paints the colors of truth,

And the day falls away into the shadows

Of large strokes of guilt-

Black as the coffee beans brewed 

In basements of sin. 

 

Jocelyn Mosman (c) 2013

Soul Painting” is the second collection by poet Jocelyn Mosman. 19 years old, Mosman has already been writing for a decade. This collection shows a wide range, from humor to sarcasm, from love to hate. Her poems have an equally wide range – from clever rhyme to an entire section of Haiku, to a section of longer prose. In “Revolution” Mosman writes “I’ve scratched full poems/ into my arms hoping/ that one day I’d bleed out/ a verse that rhymed with/ salvation.” Then, in “When Superheroes Take Off Their Masks”, she completely changes emotions with “…Remember that your love for/ Batman was so freaking annoying/ because I was a Spiderman sort of woman.” Poems like the lovely “Turn Me Over” vie for space with “Why I Write”, in which Mosman says “I want to write poetry,/ not death certificates/ to ex-lovers and ex-friends”. “Soul Painting” reminds me of a quote from “A Room with a View”, when Mr. Beebe says “"If Miss Honeychurch ever takes to live as she plays, it will be very exciting both for us and for her." Jocelyn Mosman is our Miss Honeychurch. She is one to watch.
 

Tobi Cogswell Alfier, Co-Editor of The San Pedro River Review

Soul Meets Body

 

My body is a glass house:

Easily broken but painful,

I teach myself how to be

More than my imprisoning flesh.

I am

Arteries and veins

Heart and love

Bleeding.

I belong

Where my soul meets my body.

I belong,

Bleeding,

Heart and love,

Arteries and veins.

I am

More than my imprisoning flesh.

I teach myself how to be

Easily broken but painful:

My body is a glass house. 

 

Jocelyn Mosman (c) 2015

"In Jocelyn Mosman’s third poetry collection, Soul Meets Body, I’ve wondered numerously about how it feels more like soul is meeting soul. In the title poem she writes… 'my body is a glass house' without realizing that it’s her soul that is also, the glass house. She bares all and it’s the type of uncovering that is radiant and ravishing. These poems ooze with soul. They radiate with the type of self-understanding that most of us don’t reach for decades. She strings together the comprehension of her love, her body and even her own misunderstanding in a way that only great poetry can."
 

Sarah Frances Moran, Editor of The Yellow Chair Review

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