CHRIS RICE COOPER BLOG is ART and HUMANITY Framed In The PhotoFeature Story

CHRIS RICE COOPER is a newspaper/fiction writer, poet, photographer, painter. CRC Blog is an INCLUSIVE & NON-PROFIT BLOG acknowledging ALL voices, ALL individuals, ALL political views, ALL philosophies, ALL religions including Islamism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Catholicism, Protestantism, Judaism, Agnosticism, Atheism. She has a B.S. in Criminal Justice & completed her workshops required for her Master’s in Creative Writing. She lives in St. Louis. CRC website http://chrisricecooper.com/

Thursday, May 14, 2015

Los Angeles Poet & Photographer ALEXIS RHONE FANCHER: "Poetry Through The Lens"

Christal Cooper

caccoop@gmail.com caccoop@aol.com

https://www.facebook.com/christal.cooper

Article 1,255 Words

Alexis Rhone Fancher:

Poetry Through The Lens!

Photographer and poet Alexis Rhone Fancher recently wrapped up her exhibit, 30 Southern California Poets for the Poets’ Portrait Project, at Beyond Baroque in Venice, California last month. (https://www.dropbox.com/s/glfm24ca6e73j53/30%20Portraits%20of%20Poets-SD%20(480p).mov?dl=0)

“The Poets’ Portrait Project (PPP) began by happy accident in October of 2012. I’d just signed on as Poetry Editor of Cultural Weekly, and part of my job is to solicit outstanding poets for publication. I receive gorgeous poems, terrific author bios, and almost without exception, the most pitiful author photos imaginable. (http://www.culturalweekly.com/author/alexis/)

“You’re a photographer,” my publisher, Adam Leipzig told me. “You should shoot them!” If the poet was living in or visiting Southern California, I did.

In addition to publishing them in Cultural Weekly, I regularly posted many of the portraits on Facebook, and the response was extraordinary. These photos took on a life of their own.

When Beyond Baroque Executive Director, Richard Modiano offered me a One-Woman Show to coincide with National Poetry Month, I didn’t hesitate.”

(http://www.beyondbaroque.org)

The next phase of the project is to photograph over 150 additional poets from Los Angeles, which Fancher describes as a vibrant and beautiful city.

The Chicago-born girl has lived in Los Angeles since the age of two, when she had her first remembered experience with photography: her father asked her to smile for his camera.

Four years later, at the age of six, she wrote her first creative piece: a poem about a sad song she heard on the radio.

She inherited her voracious love of reading from her parents, who had a large and vertical library in their home, with the books going all the way to the ceiling.

“My father turned me on to James Baldwin, Flannery O’Connor, James Michener, and Harold Robbins with equal fervor. My mother loved poetry: Dickinson, Millay, Jeffers.
Nothing in their library was off limits. The only rule was “if you can reach it, you can read it.” I quickly learned that the racier books were higher up. I commandeered the stepladder.”

By the age of 10, Alexis realized she was meant to be a photographer when her father bought her a Nikon camera after seeing photographs she had taken during a family vacation to San Francisco.

“My father was an avid, amateur photographer, both movies and stills. He was a pharmacist by profession, a foreign film and music lover, and a damn good tennis player into his 70s. He believed in me. I still have that camera.”

Her first love, though, has always been writing, which she did voraciously through the years while she earned a living in the advertising industry.

“I worked professionally in advertising sales and design, and supplemented my income as a photographer for most of my life.”

It wasn’t until the summer of 2012, due to the urging of her friends, that she submitted her work for publication. She sent her poems to Downer Magazine and Culture Weekly.

The quirky and now defunct Downer Magazine, published her poem “Polaroid SX-70 Land Camera” for its October 2012 issue.

The following month, in November 2012, “Polaroid SX-70 Land Camera” was republished along with “Subterranean Lovesick Clues” in Cultural Weekly, which led to her present position as Poetry Editor for Cultural Weekly.

“The experience was pure serendipity. The founding poetry editor at Cultural Weekly, the talented Wendy Rainey, needed to move on for a variety of reasons. She knew of me and thought I’d be perfect for the job. It was Wendy who recommended me to publisher Adam Leipzig. We met for lunch. I came on board in November 2012.”

Soon publisher friends were requesting her photographs to illustrate their books and literary magazines. Fancher submitted her photographs to Richard Vargas at The Mas Tequila Review and to the on-line magazine Witness, and both magazines used her photographs on their covers.

In December of 2013, she gathered all of her published poems, and arranged them in a certain order that emphasized the desired poetic flow, and sent the manuscript out to two different publishers, and both publishers offered Fancher a book contract.

In July of 2014 her first poetry collection, I Lost My Virginity To Michael Cohen was published by Sybaritic Press, located in Los Angeles. (http://www.sybpress.com)

What makes I Lost My Virginity To Michael Cohen a rare book is threefold: almost every poem in the book has been previously published by either print or on-line magazines; the book includes black and white photography by Fancher; and the poems are erotic poems. ((http://www.amazon.com/How-Lost-Virginity-Michael-Cohen/dp/1495123197/ref=sr_1_1_twi_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1415985271&sr=1-1&keywords=alexis+rhone+fancher)

Poet Marie Lecrivain, author of From The Four-Chambered Heart: In Tribute To Anais Nin, described I Lost My Virginity To Michael Cohen perfectly: “It is a gorgeous collection of erotic poems and black-and-white photos which chronicles her journey into the sensual world of sexual experience. Alexis’s writing is sharp, insightful, beautifully composed, and will strike a chord with women and men of all ages.” (http://www.marielecrivain.com) (http://www.amazon.com/Four-Chambered-Heart-tribute-Anais/dp/1467581364/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1431551181&sr=1-2&keywords=Marie+Lecrivain)

Many people confuse the definition of pornographic with erotic by assuming erotic poetry consists of the obscene and gratuitous, without redeeming social value.

“Webster defines erotic as “devoted to, or tending to arouse sexual love or desire.” That works for me. I’m often told by editors who accept my work for publication, “I hate erotica, but I love your work.” I aspire to writing “literary erotica.” Sex is a battlefield. A playground. A blank canvas. I’ve never written anything I would consider porn, nor do I enjoy reading porn.”

Alexis's career as a poet has taken off with great success: she’s been nominated for three Pushcart Prizes and a Best-of-the-Net Award.

In 2014 her poem “Tonight We Will Bloom for One Night Only” placed first in the 2014 Los Angeles Poet Society Summer Poetry Contest.

In 2013, her poem “White Flag” placed first in the Love, Loss And Longing Poetry Contest.

Alexis has a strict writing regiment: every morning she drinks her coffee, looks at her email, and then writes for a minimum of four hours per day.

“I retreat for as many hours as I possibly can each day to write. I sit down in my Aeron chair and it’s almost Pavlovian: the poem begins to fly.”

And the poems continue to fly and the juices continue to flow; and Alexis has yet to experience writer’s block, which she insists she will never get.

“Never had it. Never will. I always stop writing while I know the next line. A trick Ray Bradbury taught me back in the day.” (http://www.raybradbury.com)

The other hours of the day Alexis dedicates to her editing work and to her photography. She often collaborates with her husband, Jim (whom everyone calls Fancher). Alexis takes the images and Fancher, who has a background in the film industry, applies his technical expertise to the photographs, making them one of a kind.

“Often, during a photo-shoot, Fancher will be the one to suggest the shot that goes on to be the “money shot.” He has impeccable taste and a great eye. We work well together. Complimentary. Smooth. Like silk.”

The couple continuously collaborate on audio recordings and videos for her website (www.alexisrhonefancher.com).

Their most recent collaborations are a centerfold for the latest edition of Fresh Linen. (http://fl-mag.com)

A 5-page spread in the latest issue of River Styx features my street photos of some of L.A.’s most beautiful women. (http://www.riverstyx.org)

Alexis uses her Nikon D-810 with a 85mmm lens while in the studio; she shoots primarily with a Canon SX50 HS for street scenes; a Lumix GH2 for club scenes; but she does much of her work in post, with iPad/iPhone apps like Snapseed.

She can be reached via email alexis@lapoetrix.com

I'd Never Slept With A Mexican Before

ON THE ROAD
I had a knife with me that day.
I don't know why.

We just started driving upstate.
When I asked where we were going
he said, "Coffee."

He was too short for me anyway.

In my dream there was poison in the coffee.
It tasted so sweet. I didn't seem to mind.

IN THE DINER
There were miles between us,
a Sahara.

'It's okay to smoke," he said.
"As long as you're not a train."

When he reached for my hands
I saw tattooed saints on his wrists
where the long sleeves shortened.

He let go like he'd been burned.

Folded. A barricade. A moat.

I folded the knife in my purse
till he caught my eye.

"Keep 'em where I can see 'em."
I could live with that.

IN THE MOTEL
We danced in the open space
between the queen bed and the door.
He sweated through his button down,
a silver crucifix at his throat,
looked like Mark Anthony
in the motel marquee's light.

Free Cable. Free Ice. No Vacancy.

He kicked off his pants, turned out the light.
Fucked me with his shirt on.

IN THE MORNING
I surprised him in the shower,
saw his tattooed glory, sleeves,
the American eagle
full-winged across his chest,
"Semper Fi" emblazoned on a
ribbon in its mouth.

I threw the knife out the window
once the car passed Santa Barbara.

"The road is the journey," he said,
the sin of regret in his eyes.

"I'd Never Slept With a Mexican Before"
Excerpt from How I Lost My Virginity To Michael Cohen
Copyright granted by Alexis Rhone Fancher

Photograph Description And Copyright Information

Photo 1

Alexis Rhone Fancher giving a poetry reaching.

Photo 2

Beyond Baroque Advertisement for 30 Southern California Poets

Photo 3

Beyond Baroque

Fair Use Under the United States Copyright Law

Photo 4

Web logo photo for Cultural Weekly

Fair Use Under the United States Copyright Law

Photo 5

Adam Leipzig

Photo 6

Image of Poet Michelle Bitting, part of the 20 Southern California Poets

Photographed by Alexis Rhone Fancher

Photo 7

Richard Modiano

Photo 8

Sunset 6th Street In L.A.

Photographed by Alexis Rhone Fancher

Photo 9

Painting of a little girl writing

Attributed to Henriette Brown (1829-1901)

Public Domain

Photo 10

19th Century Painting of The Library

Attributed to Harriet Backer

Public Domain

Photo 11

Alexis Rhone Fancher with her camera

Photo 12

Alexis Rhone Fancher giving a poetry reading

Photo 13

Self-portrait of Alexis Rhone Fancher

Photo 14

Wendy Rainey

Photo 15

Cover photo for the Mass Tequila Review

Photographed by Alexis Rhone Fancher

Photo 16

Cover photo "Perfect Form" for Witness

Photographed by Alexis Rhone Fancher

Photo 17

Jacket cover of How I Lost My Virginity To Michael Cohen

Fair Use Under the United States Copyright Law

Photo 18

Web logo for the Symbaritic Press

Fair Use Under the United States Copyright Law

Photo 19

Alexis Rhone Fancher giving a poetry reading

Photo 21

Jacket cover of From The Four Chambered Heart

Fair Use Under the United States Copyright Law

Photo 22

Self Portrait of Alexis Rhone Fancher

Photo 23

Self portrait of Alexis Rhone Fancher

Photo 24

Jessica Wilson Cardenas and Alexis Rhone Fnacher, being awarded the Los Angeles Poet Society Summer Poetry Contest award

Photo 25

Alexis Rhone Fancher giving a poetry reading

Photo 26

Ray Bradbury in 1974

CCASA

Photo 27

Alexis Rhone Fancher and husband Jim

Photo 28

Alexis Rhone Fancher and husband Jim

Photo 30

Web logo for Fine Linen

Fair Use Under the United States Copyright Law

Photo 31

Cover of River Styx issue featuring the 5-page spread by Alexis Rhone Fancher

Photo 32

Alexis Rhone Fancher

Photo 33

Web logo for the website of Alexis Rhone Fancher

Fair Use Under the United States Copyright Law

Saturday, May 9, 2015

A MOTHER'S PRAYER by Pastor/Counselor Steve Wickham From Australia. . .

Christal Cooper

caccoop@gmail.com caccoop@aol.com

https://www.facebook.com/christal.cooper

Article 547 Words

Guest Blogger Steve Wickham

A Mother’s Prayer

Our Gracious God

Father, Son, Holy Spirit; our Rock, Fortress, and Salvation; our Lord and King; we bless You this morning as You bless us. You are our everything, Father, our covenant Parent who loves us so unconditionally. We give You praise!

Lord, we want to honor our mothers on this Mother's Day. We raise our mothers before You and thank You for the love, passion, energy and enthusiasm they have for their children. We bless our mums in the name of Jesus, for their most sacred of ministries - a godly work.

We also want to pray for those who are sad on Mother's Day; for those who have lost their mothers and miss them terribly even though there may be so many great memories of past. We pray for those mothers who have experienced the grief of loss; who have lost a child; a pain that ever lingers in sorrow like sea billows that roll.

We thank You, Lord, that You hold these children until the day You have appointed when these mothers might finally be reconciled with their little ones. We pray also for the ladies here, Lord Jesus, who cannot have babies, and we pray into their sadness of that ambiguous loss that may never have been - an incomprehensible grief.

We pray You would minister to these people in their sadness, where they are right now, and be the God of peace and comfort to and for each of them on this day. Be with them and inside them by Your Spirit we ask.

We want to acknowledge those also, Lord, whose mothers let them down - where thought of Mother's Day brings memories of pain and perhaps memories of abuse and/or neglect - mothers who weren't there for them as their mothers should have been. We also pray into the guilt mothers might carry; guilt that is able to be reconciled at the cross. We pray that Your Spirit would draw these aside and provide the way to forgiveness, healing, restoration, and wholeness. And we thank You that without our mothers we would not be.

We pray for those mothers, and for those children, who are far from each other right now; that You would stir within them love that transcends distance and overcomes the limitations of space and time.

Finally, we pray for our new mothers and those expecting; that You would bless them with every confidence of love and joy, knowing the peace that they have been called by You, to be a mother - the most sacred of human roles.

We lift our mothers before You, Father, that through Your Holy Spirit You would encourage them as they give their sacrifices of love - in their 24/7 devotion to care for and be there for their children - that You would continue to equip them for the tasks of today and the mothering ahead of them, and to empower them to be all they can be for their children and families, and give to them the energy, strength, and confidence they need.

We pray all these things as a requiem of praise for our Mothers, in and through the name of Jesus... and all the people said... AMEN!

*Steve Wickham is a Baptist Pastor who holds Degrees in Science, Divinity, and Counseling. He lives in Perth, Western Australia with his wife and daughter. He can be reached via

http://epitemnein-epitomic.blogspot.com.au/

http://tribework.blogspot.com.au/

http://EzineArticles.com/8493378

Thursday, May 7, 2015

A Mother Named Christy Remembers Her Unborn Son On Mother's Day . . .

Christal Cooper

caccoop@gmail.com caccoop@aol.com

https://www.facebook.com/christalann.ricecooper

Article 2,394 Words

A Mother Named Christy

Remembers Her Miscarried Son

On Mother’s Day

June 2nd started like any other day in summer with four children. Busy. We had breakfast. Then I got the younger two girls dressed and ready for the day. I took my oldest to get her haircut. I also made a doctor's appointment that day. I was one day shy of being 15 weeks pregnant. I hadn't seen a doctor since they confirmed the pregnancy with an ultrasound at 9 weeks.

I couldn't believe it. Me. Pregnant at age 40. We had 4 healthy, active girls at home. They kept me going from sunup to sunset with carpool and meals and activities and errands. How was I going to be able to add another little one to this crew and get all the necessities of running a home and raising a family accomplished? Also, what were people going to say? We had encountered all kinds of negative comments when our youngest was announced. So the previous 15 weeks had been filled with worry and doubt and fear.

Things were starting to turn around though. We had just told our children that they were going to have another one to add to their number in November. Greg told his employer. I had told friends and was beginning to tell the parents of my girls' friends. So off to the doctor's appointment I went, eager to hear the heartbeat and get on the road to telling everyone else and planning to add another little one to our family.

Ever since I miscarried my first child at 20 weeks, I went through a phase between the first and second trimesters. Is my eating getting back on a more even level because the baby is getting what he/she needs and the morning sickness is passing or is something wrong?

Is that cramp because my intestines are full, my muscles are stretching to accommodate another life or is something wrong? Am I less tired because I am moving on to the second trimester or is something wrong? Having four normal, healthy pregnancies since then, I was quick to dismiss the questions during this pregnancy.

I waited in the waiting room for my appointment. Then they took me back and checked my vital signs. Normal. The doctor came in and checked my fundus. Normal. She brought out the instrument so we could listen to the heartbeat. She wasn't able to find one. Leah had made the doctor chase her around the womb and he never got her to be still enough so we could hear it. Leah was checked on ultrasound to give me confidence that she was okay. As it was then, my doctor now said I needed to go to the ultrasound room to see what was going on. At this point I was getting a little nervous, but then again my nerves had played tricks on me a lot during the last four pregnancies.

I laid on the table and the tech brought out the gel. Then there was my baby on the screen. I looked and looked and looked. The room was quiet, and I finally asked, "There is no heartbeat, is there?" This pregnancy was unplanned and some days, if I am completely honest, unwanted because after all, we were done with our family. In that moment though, I realized, in spite of the swirling emotions of the past 15 weeks, I am a mom, and I love my kids, this one included. I then asked the technician if the baby was measuring 14-15 weeks. She told me that he or she was measuring 11 weeks. This life has slipped away around four weeks previous, and I had no idea. I had continued my fretting and worrying.

On Wednesday June 4 at 6:45 am, my water broke, and I held my baby. I kept looking at this little one. A head, a place for eyes, a mouth, arms, legs, hands, feet. Still underdeveloped, but they were there nonetheless. The body was about 4 inches long with papery white, thin skin so that the ribcage was visible. I kept going back to look at my baby over and over through the morning. Not a blob of tissue that the medical personnel told me it was. It was a baby, my baby. I had seen it. I had held it. It was tiny, and it was underdeveloped, but it was my baby.

As the morning went on, I kept getting more and more light headed. I kept lying down waiting for my 4 pm doctor's appointment while Greg went on two trips to the store, did things around the house, and helped the girls with what they were doing. After that he came into our room and sat down. I am so thankful he chose then to come in because he was able to catch me as I passed out. When I came to, I was lying on the floor, and I felt terrible. I started calling out for him to call 911. I had remembered a girl I went to high school with having a bad miscarriage a few years ago, and it was then I thought I was bleeding too much.

As I was taken out of the house on a stretcher with my girls tucked into a bedroom so they didn't have to see me that way, I prayed that God would allow me to come back home and raise my girls. I wasn't raised by my parents, and I remember the struggles that I had because of it.

I got to the emergency room and things stabilized. The doctor started talking about letting me go home. I had to go to the restroom several times while I was there, and I used the wheelchair to go up and down the hall because I was still weak. Greg, meanwhile, was settling our girls in at home with the older girls taking care of the younger girls. He then got to the hospital and filled out all of the paperwork. As soon as he got to my room, I needed to go to the restroom again. He had to catch me from falling out of the wheelchair as I passed out yet again.

About this time my doctor showed up and checked me. The doctors decided I was definitely to be admitted, and they took me to the labor and delivery wing because I needed more monitoring than a regular room would allow. They rolled me to L&D on a stretcher, and I sat up a little bit to move from the stretcher to the bed. The nurses left the room. I muttered that I felt like I could pass out again, and Greg wasn't sure he heard me correctly so he asked me if I was going to pass out again. All I could do was nod. I am so thankful he was there with me because I couldn't have pushed that call button for anything in the world. I could hear, but I could no longer respond. I began praying that God would let this feeling of passing out cease so I could feel normal again. I didn't yet realize it, but my blood pressure dropped to 57/30. My room filled not only with the L&D nurses but also an emergency response team and a chaplain. They began more IV fluids in the tubing that I received in the ambulance. I was then lying with my head lower than my feet, and I felt well enough to answer all kinds of questions being addressed to me.

The nurse on the emergency response team, Karen, is an ICU nurse part-time at the hospital where I was. She is also a full-time L&D nurse at another hospital in town. While the other L&D nurses reported to the doctors that all of their assessments of me were normal, Karen was paying attention to the amount of blood I had lost. While the doctors were seeing other patients because they were relying on these assessments, Karen began advocating that they give me blood, and the internal physician agreed with her. I ended up with 5 units of blood that day. The next day the chaplain was sure to let me know that God was mighty to save me because so much of my blood had been lost. When I saw Karen three days later, she told me that she has said for a long time that God puts her where He wants her.

They finally got me stabilized, and I had a d & c to stop the bleeding. A small piece of the placenta had remained behind and kept me from healing. I spent that night and the next day and a half in ICU, and then I was moved to a regular room.

During this time lots of people came in and out, but three people I remember well. One was a nurse in ICU. I was her only patient, and we would talk when she came in to check on me. I was talking to her about wanting to know if we had a boy or a girl because the baby needed a name, and I needed a way to remember him or her. She told me she was going to cry if I kept talking like that. I was completely confused so I asked her what she meant. She said I was talking about it like it was a baby. She was from Jamaica, and she said she had seen a lot there. I am not sure if she meant miscarriage or abortion, but her views were definitely different from mine. I went on to explain that this was a baby; I had had held it. I told her what my baby had looked like. She didn't respond, but I hope God uses my experience to help her in some way.

The second person was a lady who came to take my order for my meals once I was moved to a regular room. She had seen my four girls in the hall when they had come to visit earlier. We were talking about them, and I told her I have two more babies in heaven that I get to meet some day. She told me she hadn't thought about it like that before, but she has sisters in heaven waiting for her. She left my room with a smile on her face and wonder in her voice. I am praying God gave her some comfort through this story that day.

Then there was Heather, my nurse the first day in a regular room. She came in to check my vital signs when I arrived in my new room. This was after they had told me I was to have another nurse that day. A last minute change. She told me that the best they could tell we had had a son. She hugged me while I cried over the loss of our son. She was full of so much compassion and care.

I love it when God reaches down and gives us what we need when we need it, especially in the hard times.

These events are part of the life God has given to me to be lived out, but this is really His story. The story of His amazing mercy and grace flowing freely to those who accept His Son. The love and patience and kindness He gives us. The pain placed at just the right time so we rely on Him and not on ourselves, and then we can begin to become more like Jesus-thankful and willing to do the Father's Will above all else because God will be glorified.

You see I had been fretting, which God calls evil. I was worried about people's opinions and being able to handle the changes in our family in my own strength. I had not yet come to the point of repentance and relying on and resting in God in this situation. God put Greg right next to me when I needed help that day. He put Karen on ICU duty that day, an experienced nurse in ICU to care for me. Without her care, I might not be here today. But that is just another small detail God worked out in advance-to save me, to let my kids have their mother, and my husband his wife.

He also revealed more of Himself to me that day. I tend to panic during trouble, fearing I won't make the right decisions or be taken care of. I had peace all day long-during the times I passed out, during the administering of anesthesia. I knew He was with me. I also live in fear at times. My greatest fear is death. My dad died when I was six years old, so from an early age I learned we are mortal. My grandfather who raised me passed away four and a half years ago, and my fear of death multiplied. At times I would keep repeating Jesus's words "I will never leave you. I will never forsake you", and I would hope for the best as I tried to lay down my fear. Do you know what God showed me?

At the time of my greatest need and when I was completely powerless, He was there, and He was mighty to save. He stood between me and my greatest fear. He stood between me and death. And doesn't He do this for all of us? Isn't this the reason He sent Jesus to die on the cross?

June 4th was not my day to pass from this life, but I will come to the day when it is my turn. Because I believe in Jesus and that His blood covers my sin, when that day comes for me, my God will still stand between me and death. My body will pass from this life, but my spirit will live. God allows pain because we live in a fallen world and we have free will, but He can and will use our pain for our good and His glory. It takes faith. It takes not leaning on our own understanding. It takes believing in His goodnessand His love and believing His Son is our atonement for sin. Not just for the world. For me.