As most of you know blogging is not really my thing and I tend to neglect my own more than occasionally. 😉 So I’m delighted with the opportunity to help a wonderful group of readers & writers toast MURDER MOST COZY as they celebrate their 10 year anniversary. I get to interview mystery writers who I enjoy and admire, while mystery fans learn more about some of their favorite authors.
Today I’ll launch the tribute with a rerun of three of my poems to capture the spirit of the remarkable authors who sweep readers away with the power of words.
The secret to writing a mystery book
requires more than a beginning hook.
It takes more than an intriguing clue
discovered by an exploring gumshoe.
Don’t depend upon poison or knife
or a dangerous shadow threatening life.
Creating an intriguing story
entails more than killing gory,
inventing more than a detective wise
or exploring all three suspects lies.
An author needs more to make a good read
than motives of love, betrayal and greed.
Here lies the real secret my friend,
plan it backward from the end.
Tales modern or woven in history,
I always love a good mystery.
Using clues to unravel a bit,
it’s amusing to guess who done it,
where and how and why;
who’ll be next to die.
Determined authors can rarely fool
this armchair detective keeping cool.
My favorite tales to be direct,
reveal my guesses are incorrect.
TELL ME A STORY
Fly me away on the wings of dreams
Weave me sounds of laughter or screams
Scorch me with fire of dragon breath
Haunt me with tales of impending death
Introduce me to people I’ll never meet
Transport me to a distant or imaginary street
Thrill me with legends of brave young souls
Frighten me by evil spells, witches and ghouls
Entice me with magic of a lover’s kiss
Excite me with blaze from a laser gun miss
Enchant me with myths of lost jewels, genies and gold
Challenge me by ancient mysteries; puzzles of old
Tease me with shadows flickering in candleglow
Intoxicate me with joy, passion or woe
Whirl me toward heaven in a tornado high
Blow me like stardust across violet sky
Whisk me away to worlds, future or past
‘til my eyelids drift closed and I sleep at last.
Karen Elizabeth Rigley