Lisa Sornberger decided to be a writer at the age of nine and weathered adolescence with the aid of the Muse. In her early twenties she met her future husband, John, also a writer, with whom she continues to share joy, much fun, and many adventures, which include house-building and restoration, far-flung traveling, snorkeling, gardening and beach-roaming. She has had an abiding interest in animal protection, its most apparent manifestation being the family of five cats with whom she and John co-habit in Willimantic, CT. For many years and in many capacities, she has helped the disabled; she has also been a licensed massage therapist. Through all of her activities, poetry has been a constant. She is a member of the Thread City Poets and has received several honors for her writing, among them a fellowship to the Bucknell Seminar for Younger Poets, a scholarship to the Wesleyan Writers Conference, and selection to tour with the Connecticut Poetry Circuit’s student contingent. Lisa Sornberger’s work has appeared in literary journals such as the New York Quarterly, the New Virginia Review, Fairfield Review, Embers, and Common Ground Review. In 2004 her chapbook Stone and Feather was published. Click here to read sample poems. Click here to view Lisa Sornberger's upcoming events Click here to read ancillary material in the Seminar Room |
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BOOK STATISTICS ISBN: 978-0-9817883-1-9
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ANIMAL GUIDES I hear them calling: I burn sage, Wildcat roars in my belly, Each brings her wisdom, The wildcat gives me fierceness, All tell me the path to home |
POSTCARD FROM THE COUNTRY Forget Italy. |
OF THE BODY Pain is part of the landscape here, Living in the body If you ask the wind to guide you, understand animal cries and songs, |
AT TWILIGHT
There is nothing to say. The full moon floats, The old oaks watch and wait: I wait here, caught between of Canada Geese, Hummingbirds and flycatchers of pond. It mirrors the moon, send its stillness and overlap, until who knows useless or gone, this image of trees I enter this vision, I fly to the highest branches. Nothing stops me. |
MEDITATION II
Every day we sit with intent We have come here |
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