P.J. Thomas

The cover of PJ Thomas' book is the reason I wanted to read it and I'm ashamed to say that when I found out it was a book of poetry, I almost decided against it. The cover gave me deep deep feelings though, and so I decided to trust them and I'm glad I did; I never knew poetry could move me the way this book has. When reading the Forward by Frank Flynn, one line stood out to me, "PJ Thomas is a stealthy slayer. The whimsy one inevitably finds in her poems, is really just bait for the show more uninitiated." I took this to heart and when I got to a poem that I found fun, or cute, or whimsical I read it again... and then again... and as many more times again, until I felt something different - many times accompanied by an audible gasp and humbled shock. This new-to-me process of reading resulted me feeling some of the strongest and deepest feelings I've ever experienced in all of my years of reading. I found my cheeks hurting from smiles that I didn't know were happening and my heart felt actual pain from memories triggered by lost love and un-resolved hopes for love renewed. I even accidentally happened upon reading one of her poems in reverse that resulted in literal dumbfoundment with tears welled up in my eyes. Thank you, PJ, for translating your raw truths into the written word. show less

An undertow is an underlying current or force in opposition to what is apparent, something that can catch us unawares. In Life, meaning is often buried deep, tugging us in directions other than where we meant to go. Some flow with the current, some fight against it, but we are all carried, to a greater or lesser extent, by Life’s tide, to the most unlikely of places and people.

As a theme, Undertow is apt for a collection of contemplative poems--- joys and heartaches, the hidden and the show more apparent, the vagaries of Life itself. Poems in this collection delight the reader with beautiful imagery and unexpectedly apt turns of phrases to the twinkling of wisdom from lived experience.

Some of my favourite poems from this collection include the following:

From ‘Ghost Tripping’:
we have traversed infinity /bouncing there and back /through and between gates and portals to outer and interior space, /tumbling like DNA’s dice /planet to galaxy to universe …

From ‘Imaginary Mountain’:
The second half of the trek is more exciting. /It is in the dark, /where trendsetters operate. /They are cutting the edge beyond the outreaching fringe. /I hope to skate easily with you on that crystal-clear glacier lake / between halfway up and halfway down /this slick mountainside…

From ‘Tonight’s Concert’:
It comes out of silence/that holy feeling of something from nothing/stillness spilling over into pools of images/visions of canyons filled to their brim with sound...

From ‘Wisely Said’:
I close the book on us with awe and wonder. Everyone has been staggered. All of us have to stumble. /I jostle all my keys nervously and try not to fumble the ball nor my circus-dismount tumble…

P.J. Thomas sees everything with a poet’s keen sense of observation and distils it onto paper with remarkable freshness, going straight to the heart of all things. There is a distinct sense of forlornness but there is never cynicism, as if the author is saying, Yes, Life can be heartbreakingly sad but also ineffably beautiful, and we never know where the undertow will take us. show less

I came to “Waves” having not read any poetry for some time. To be honest, I eschewed it because it often made me feel too much, and in these fraught times I found that dangerous. Thankfully, PJ Thomas’ poems are softly stealthy, thrilling the mental ear with delightful word play and rhythmic lines. Water and waves, moon and stars. I can handle that: “spruce trees of blue and green/ match the moss on the rocks;/ lichen clinging like lace/ to the craggy cracks/ of the cold stone show more face.”

But so often embodied in those verbal pleasures are potent, keen desires; rich wisdom; heartfelt sorrow; loss or fear of loss. They sneak up on me: “The waves conclude/ on daybreak beach/ wet sand shines/ remarkably/ like fool’s gold”

So I am very happy to have survived the experience. Thomas’ poems, usually one or two pages long, are redolent with emotion expressed serenely, very often love for a friend or partner. And even the more plaintive ideas smooth out to acceptance and peace, like a sage shaking her head, “Yes, this is how it must be.”

Poetry is difficult to discuss without resorting to quoting abundantly. Even so, it’s hard to select a few lines when, of course, all the words must be taken together for the effect. I’ll try parsing one more (“How People Are Made”) because the last lines made me gasp: “ One red stone/on the bottom of the lake/ had known the touch of a feather,/ the waves of the world . . . . We are made of the same stuff, . . . an amazing revelation/ that this rock can be my blood./ I dive for the one red stone, bring it to the surface,/ and swallow it whole.”

I received a copy of this book from Paje Press via Librarything. This is an honest review. show less

PJ Thomas's poetry includes incredible imagery and emotion, but the form and direct language was not my preferred style of poetry. Poetry is personal art and I struggle to critique it, but would push PJ to eliminate the excessive use of "I" and welcome the reader as an embodiment of the speaker. The poetry is well on its way to reaching incredible heights.