Spotlight: Stephen Michael Whitter
It's a wonderful day for me to share with you the work of someone I find highly talented. Today, it is an honor to be sharing with you, on my page and on my website, the writing of Stephen Michael Whitter.
Stephen and I met through a mutual friend (the amazing Matthew Bowers) a few months ago - and I'm very glad we met. Stephen is an outstanding narrative writer who brings his readers with him on his poetic and prose adventures.
And, I quickly learned (upon meeting), Stephen (like me - and like Matthew) is able to talk about Morrissey (The Smiths) for hours at a time - it's always a thrill to meet others with similar devotions.
Stephen is an all-around great guy - and I recommend his writing highly. And, to tentatively be released in December, Stephen will release his collection of writing, "Tales Deceptively Honest" - and I'm certain it will be among the best releases of the year.
Stephen in his own words:
Hello, I'm Stephen Michael Whitter a 60-year-old poet from the Isle of Wight.
Here are two pieces from his forthcoming book, "Tales Deceptively Honest" - and I know you'll love them as much as I do! ______________ The See , The Sea.
I must go down to the sea again. I was reading that piece just the other day. I thought yes, I must, i love the Sea the Spray, I am lucky enough to live five minutes away. And how many more chances for me anyway?
So, I picked a stormy day and a stretch of coast close, one that I knew how it would behave. I settled myself onto a bench, dedicated in 97' "To Graham", who on a plaque we are told, "Loved this Island and loved the Sea " Good enough for Graham, good enough for me.
Hardy, waterproofed walkers pass me by, with determined looks in their eyes. Dog walkers too but none that I knew, so long since my dog and I had walked this way. He old in his years, me, old before mine.
So as the rain set in, blowing inshore, I was soon the only suffering fact the only soul around. Although, a mad gentleman who I knew by sight but not by name, well he occupied the next bay. Standing motionless, except for waving gently, tenderly at the retreating waves.
I watched as the tide came in and the Sea became more alive, but felt strangely drawn to the Sky and found that I had closed my eyes. The wind blew tears from my closed eyes, but soon these, not wind tears but mine, yes I found myself crying.
I checked the Sea Wall on which was set the bench on which I was sat, all clear. My tears turned to great sobs of despair. I noticed a strange sensation of feeling very light, as though the wind may make me take flight. The feeling passed and grounded once more, the wind and rain washed my face clear of fright and fear.
I stood, then sat again, the tide now on the turn, the Madman was waving for all he was worth. As he was on his way, he passed me by and said to me, gesturing at loos' nearby, "Did you need a pee then" 'When' I said as I shook my head. "Oh just back then, I looked, you were gone, and then, well, back again". 'Oh I don't know' I said, slightly puzzled slightly afraid. "Oh,well goodbye Stephen " 'Goodbye Graham,' I replied......
Stephen Michael Whitter. .............
Take me on a day.
Please take me on a day, When the wind blows inshore, And is blowing fearsome high. The tide not in as yet but, It's on it's way.
Whips up jockeys, atop white horses that feel no pain. Straining through the rain and spray to be in the vanguard at the bay.
As the first do make the shore, fills one's ears with damp roar. First breakers smash Some dash, but we, we stay and laugh.
The privacy that a storm bestows, the rolling clattering of stones on stone could be cobbles down a lane. Gulls, let themselves be thrown around Enjoying winds they but not men can control.
So say you can take me on the next day. The next day the weather, the weather is that way. The next day I can make it there, Please, say that is okay.
Stephen Michael Whitter.
Photo: Stephen Michael Whitter.