Mr. McSnipper now in paperback at CreateSpace and Amazon

Now available in paperback as well as eBook versions
Mr. McSnipper and Other Verses – Illustrated children’s book of verses

Ages nine and up – reading level 4th grade and up
Cover-JPEG-McS-2

Is now available in paperback from CreateSpace:
https://www.createspace.com/4163395

Or in paperback from Amazon:
http://tiny.cc/du8jsw

Or you can get it for the Kindle, Kindle Fire tablets or any other tablet or computer with the Kindle application free from Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AZOA858

If you want to download and install the free Kindle app from Amazon for your devices, here is the link:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/feature.html?ie=UTF8&docId=1000493771

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“Mr. McSnipper” is now available in paperback

Mr. McSnipper and Other Verses

Is now available in paperback from CreateSpace.
https://www.createspace.com/4163395

Cover-JPEG-McS-2

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WOW! Look at the snazzy new artist-designed cover for my book “Shaker Lane”

This is the front cover for the digital version of Shaker Lane. http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AQ4BYWI

RobertNicholas_ShakerLane_KINDLE
And this is the front and back cover for the paperback which will be out soon:
ShakerLane_FullCoverCS

Both were created by Jeanine Henning from Capetown, South Africa. http://www.jeaninehenning.com/

Read Four-Star Review of my book “Shaker Lane” by Jim Bennett Kindle Book Review Team member http://tiny.cc/r0carw

THE PEBBLE
The boy walked on the lane
And looked beneath his feet
Picked a pebble from it
Thought it pretty neat
Put it in his pocket
Always there to hold
Strolled a little further
Now becoming bold
Thought he heard soft whisper
Tho he was alone
‘I’ve waited many years,
Hello boy, welcome home.’

The poems in this collection are woven into a unified story, an odyssey, which develops as you progress. The book was crafted to have a magical, inspirational feel to it – a range from joy to sorrow. It would appeal to adults who dream of a simpler time. Older children, who know the truth behind Santa Claus, realize where babies come from and understand death and dying would enjoy it.

My boyhood home on Shaker Lane in western Massachusetts was a converted saw mill associated with the Shaker religious community. This one-lane unpaved road was surfaced in stone over a dirt base. There were only five homes along its stretch deep into the Berkshire Hills. As a result, what little traffic existed was slow, and we could walk it without fear – at least as long as our mothers didn’t catch us.

Other than school and summer vacations, all of my childhood took place within one hundred yards skirting the sides of the lane. For my playmates and me, it was the focal point of our youth. Our Shaker Lane playground covered hundreds of acres of lawns, fields and woods.

I treat the lane as a living entity, with senses, feelings, memories and a ‘voice’– a friend – which it was for me as a boy. While many of these poems are wholly or partially anecdotal, others are more allegorical. Family and friends might argue, “That isn’t how I remember it.” I plead generous poetic license. Consider it to be a metaphor of some imaginary child’s life, not necessarily my own.

Does the lane actually converse with me? Am I only hearing other people speak, and believe it to be the lane? Is it merely my own thoughts? Or is it a child’s overactive imagination? What power does the pebble I find there hold over me? What does the old woman in the green-shingled house know? What mystery awaits me when I finally reach the end of Shaker Lane?

So come back in time to post World War II – the time of Howdy Doody – of stick horses – of the transition from radio to television – of Superman – of hula hoops – a time when parents had to repeatedly shout at the top of their lungs to get their children to stop playing and come back in the house for meals or bedtime.

Surrender yourself to the lure. Explore all the joy and magic that a young boy can discover along the way. Come with me and listen closely as we walk Shaker Lane, the friend beneath my feet.

And tho I watch them flicker
   every damp summer’s eve,
   I always let the fireflies
      fly free

Kindle Edition: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AQ4BYWI

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“Shaker Lane” Review

Read Four-Star Review of my book “Shaker Lane” by J Bennett Kindle Book Review Team member http://tiny.cc/r0carw

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“Shaker Lane” featured on FreeBooksy Jan 11, 2013

I was very pleased that FreeBooksy featured “Shaker Lane – Poems Beneath My Feet” on January 11, 2013. I feel honored that my allegorical book of poems was chosen.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AQ4BYWI

 

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Newest Kindle book: “Mr. McSnipper and Other Verses”

My newest effort is a children’s book of verses. It sells for a mere 99 cents for the Amazon family of Kindles, tablets and their free Kindle app for PCs and Macs. I did all the artwork myself on my iPad – including the cover.
Cover-JPEG-McS-2

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AZOA858

Age Level: 9 and up – Grade Level: 4 and up

This is an entertaining collection of silly poems, limericks and sonnets for children and families to enjoy – plus a few not so silly verses. Children under the age of nine will enjoy listening to most of these poems as well. I show you how to read a poem – which syllables to stress to make the rhythm and rhyme flow.

I did all the artwork in the book myself using a variety of art and photo apps on my iPad – including the cover.

The Troll on My Couch Silly Sally Mr. McSnipper Little Pete Penny the Pudgy Pink Pig Stanley the Little Blue Ant

All these and more are waiting for you to visit. So come on in and meet some new friends!

And when you are finished reading, I will show you how to write your own poems.

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Shaker Lane – Poems Beneath My Feet

My second Kindle book is available now available at Amazon.com
Shaker Lane – Poems Beneath My Feet
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AQ4BYWI

The poems in this collection are woven into a unified story, an odyssey, which develops as you progress. The book was crafted to have a magical, inspirational feel to it – a range from joy to sorrow. It would appeal to adults who dream of a simpler time. Older children, who know the truth behind Santa Claus, realize where babies come from and understand death and dying would enjoy it.

My boyhood home on Shaker Lane in western Massachusetts was a converted saw mill associated with the Shaker religious community. This one-lane unpaved road was surfaced in stone over a dirt base. There were only five homes along its stretch deep into the Berkshire Hills. As a result, what little traffic existed was slow, and we could walk it without fear – at least as long as our mothers didn’t catch us.

Other than school and summer vacations, all of my childhood took place within one hundred yards skirting the sides of the lane. For my playmates and me, it was the focal point of our youth. Our Shaker Lane playground covered hundreds of acres of lawns, fields and woods.

I treat the lane as a living entity, with senses, feelings, memories and a ‘voice’– a friend – which it was for me as a boy. While many of these poems are wholly or partially anecdotal, others are more allegorical. Family and friends might argue, “That isn’t how I remember it.” I plead generous poetic license. Consider it to be a metaphor of some imaginary child’s life, not necessarily my own.

Does the lane actually converse with me? Am I only hearing other people speak, and believe it to be the lane? Is it merely my own thoughts? Or is it a child’s overactive imagination? What power does the pebble I find there hold over me? What does the old woman in the green-shingled house know? What mystery awaits me when I finally reach the end of Shaker Lane?

So come back in time to post World War II – the time of Howdy Doody – of stick horses – of the transition from radio to television – of Superman – of hula hoops – a time when parents had to repeatedly shout at the top of their lungs to get their children to stop playing and come back in the house for meals or bedtime.

Surrender yourself to the lure. Explore all the joy and magic that a young boy can discover along the way. Come with me and listen closely as we walk Shaker Lane, the friend beneath my feet.

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In Memoriam – Don and Flo Nicholas

MomDad-Small

I sing Psalms of you,
You sang lullabies to me
I speak praise of you,
You caressed me as a child
When I look at you,
You looked deeply in my soul
When I speak to you,
You replied and smiled my way
When I go to school,
Your eyes wept to see me go
When I leave the nest,
You were brave before you cried
When the years passed by,
And you aged and dying lay
I sang lullabies to you,
Now you sing Psalms of me

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Shaker Lane – Nearing completion

It has been a work of poetic love, and it is nearing completion at last. Shaker Lane is a metaphor of life from conception to birth through life to death. It exists in a world when children could go Trick or Treating without adults to protect them. A time that while naïve, was a good place to be. We were innocent, and didn’t even know it.

Does Shaker Lane actually talk to “me”? Or am I imagining it? Does the bond-stone really guide and protect? I will only know for sure when I reach the end of Shaker Lane.

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“Hey Joe” – Poems and Stories from the Peace Corps

Cover-HJ

Come larga (sail) with me on a banca (outrigger canoe) across the Sibuyan Sea to the malayo (remote) isla (island) of Romblon in the Philippines. Take your siya (chair) at the lamisa (table) as my new panimalay (family) and I enjoy our panyaga (lunch) of kanon (cooked rice), isda (fish), utanon (vegetables), fried saging (banana) and tubig (water). Meet my host Nana Lola. Lakat (walk) down the dalan (street) with me as I join my migas (friends) Manny, Louie and Popeye to drink tuba (fermented coconut milk). And learn how I got my nickname, “Puti Iboy”.

June, 1968. Twenty-two years old, 5’ 11” 155 pounds; red-haired, blue-eyed, fair-skinned, freckled and fresh out of college, I found myself flying out of Logan airport in Boston heading for a two-year stint in the Peace Corps in the Philippines teaching modern mathematics.

It was the era of the Vietnam War – Woodstock – the first man landing on the moon. Everything I took as a given was challenged. My pre-conceived ideas of life, community, family and friendship were turned inside out, shaken apart, dismantled and reassembled. I was advantaged and was going to live with those who were less so. First hand in the “third world” was going to be a shocker.

“Hey Joe” was a greeting of affection Filipinos had for Americans. I am not going to spend 100 pages telling you what my teaching experience was like. That will be covered in one brief section. I devote myself to life outside the classroom, for this is where the Peace Corps experience really shines. The talents we brought with us were important, but the interaction with those we lived and worked with was what really made a difference. I showed them skills they could go forward with, and they gave me a lifetime of warm memories.

This is a collection of poems and stories about my experience. You will be learning some of the local dialect along with me as you read. At first I will give you both the dialect term and the English together. After words have been used several times, I drop the English, but don’t fear, there is a dialect dictionary of about 125 words at the back.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed living it.

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