EROica by William F. DeVault

Poetry Book Review

Title: EROica
Author:  William F. DeVault
Publisher: Venetian Spider Press
Released: February 14, 2023
Pages: 112
ISBN-13: 9781734946994
Stars: 5.0

The US National Beat Poet Laureate Emeritus, William F. DeVault, previously hailed as the Romantic Poet of the Internet, released a new book of poetry, EROica, primarily inspired by his muse, Mariya Andriichuk. I had no idea what I was setting myself up for when I chose to read it.

EROica, an ode of tribute to DeVault’s longtime friend and muse, is so spectacular that I feel I should give up writing poetry because there’s no way mine could ever be half as compelling. Reading it gutted me like a trout, grateful that death came quickly and easily. Although the cover is erotic and conveys a BDSM message, the poetry is more sensual than graphically sexy.

From “we begin at the end” to “in the sphere of Venus,” DeVault’s love for his muse is evident in every line, in every rhyme, and every time he professes his appreciation for her tresses, her lips and her eyes, he left me languid in a puddle of sighs.

I have never read the work of a Beat Poet Laureate unless you count Ginsberg and Ferlinghetti, but no amount of spaghetti could ever satisfy me the way DeVault’s poetic lyricism fills my belly to the groin and makes mine yearn for such a love as his for his Kyiv Venus.

In “The 1st heroic crown of Mariya,” DeVault carries on with the last line of each verse and makes it the first of the following poem, holding his reverence for her like a totem, mesmerizing us with a perfect dream of everything about her he holds in esteem. Finally, in the fifteenth verse, “The Diadem,” he compiles the first lines of the previous fourteen and beguiles us with the fate of his curse; we’re immersed until our heart bursts.

I had never heard of the word amomancy and had to look it up. If you’re wondering, “Amomancy is the supernatural art of changing people through poetry or eloquence.” This man coined the term and is obviously a master of the art.

My favourite poems are “sensible horizon,” “A Prayer for Life and Love,” ”life is a gallery of art,” 46 minute villanelle: the futility of truth” (perfection), “the tenor clears his throat,” “epic/the mock battlefield,” and “Plato’s cave.”

As a passionate romantic, I understand the torture of this man’s existence, the sting of unrequited love, and the loneliness of a monastic existence. As such, I have deep empathy, utter admiration, and gratitude for what he is willing to share on these pages. DeVault is a poet whose work I shall further seek, and I am blessed for having found it.

“Twin Flame” by Christine Bode


Twin Flame

A poem by ©Christine Bode 2018

I see my twin flame’s image in the dark side of
a gold and gilded mirror, as he holds it to my face
so I can see my covert beauty and foremost strengths,
as well as my ugliest prejudices.

I see myself in his shadow, curious, compelled to seek
the verity of his existence, to know my perception is echt.
Aware that my romanticized projection may be
unwelcome, I am wary of this infatuation.

I dwell in the light on the other side of the mirror
but fascination for his knowledge, philosophy and
strange, unusual life choices
keep me lingering, just at arm’s length.

Intensely drawn to this man, I hardly know,
my intuition tells me we are not soul mates,
but I can’t help but wonder what he’s here to teach me,
and I sense that an existential earthquake is imminent.

I am in awe of his courage to live an
authentic, alternative lifestyle, indulging in
every deviant whim of which he can conceive, but I’m
repelled by his politics and self-absorption.

Yang to my yin, he’s reflected parts of me I’ve never known.
Yet I could swear I’ve met him before,
in the pages of a horror novel—an inkling that a fictional
character manifested makes me distracted and uneasy.

What transformation is he the catalyst for in my life?
I sense an alchemical reaction and am unsure about how
much I want to change, but he will show me
what I most desire, as well as what I most fear.

I am neither brave nor foolish enough to follow him further
than that garden gate of exquisite, ornamental iron
because I can see the bloodstains that linger there,
and I’m afraid that blood is mine.

Read this poem and more by Christine Bode in her latest collection, Eden Redefined.

Eden Redefined is available on:

Amazon (Paperback) CDN $14.99:

Amazon (Kindle) CDN $8.99:

The Impeccable Lover by Amorah Quan Yin

Le Belle Dame Sans Merci by Sir Frank Dicksee
Le Belle Dame Sans Merci by Sir Frank Dicksee

This morning, I received this exquisite and mind-blowing poem from Jeff Brown, who is the author of Soulshaping: A Journey of Self Creation, a book that every man should read.

When I read this poem, I wept. I can’t believe that it sums up everything I think and feel about the man I’ve been looking for my whole life.

The Impeccable Lover

Oh, Gentle man, what do you see
when you look out at me with eyes
of desire and longing?
Eyes that reach out and surround me
with your heat and passion:
passion of wanting.
Eyes that say, “I must have you.”
Eyes that plead, or eyes that lust.
Eyes that say, “I’ve been lonely so long.”

Oh Gentle Man, do not look to me
with these eyes.
Go to the looking glass with these eyes.
Relief awaits you there.
And when you see the conqueror,
the knight, the hungry man,
tell that one to lay down his sword,
surrender his armor and shield:
Tell him the war is done.
Then put your arm around his shoulder
and look him in the eyes.
And when his sword, his armor, his shield
are locked and put away,
and he has cried and called you, “Brother,”
then, Gentle Man, may you come to me
with your soul’s light shining through
from behind your eyes,
able to see the Light and Essence that I am.
Then I will look back when I see
the love and respect in your eyes.
But when I see desperation and lust,
or the need to conquer and own,
I promise you this:
I shall look away.

Oh, Gentle Man, how would you give your gifts to me?
Excitedly, like a child
who picks a flower for his Mother
then runs inside to receive the praise?
Would you give to me to show
how thoughtful and kind you are?
How generous you can be?
To impress me with your charm?
To win my love and reward?
Would you give what you think I want
with the hope for pardon and mercy,
that you be deemed worthy
of all my attention and love?

Oh, Gentle Man, please take your gifts
to your magical child,
who awaits, so lonely and afraid,
in your garden.
For he is in need
of your caring and presence.
Take this child to your breast.
Cradle him.
Stroke him.
Shower him.
And be sincere.
Alas, when he sleeps in your arms,
lay him down softly
and climb the stairs to my room.
and if you see the Light of my soul
and the Beauty that I Am
and wish to honor me with a flower,
a poem, a sweet word, or a kiss,
then give to me with sincerity,
without the need for flourish,
without expectation
or the hope of reward,
but with the quiet dignity
with which you sniff the aroma
of a sweet-scented flower,
or watch in peaceful awe
the setting of the Sun.

Oh, Gentle Man, please burden me not
with the weight of your esteem,
or with the power to give or destroy
your joy, your heart, your image, and worth.
For this responsibility
is far too great for me.
Go find your peace and happiness,
your self-esteem and love.
Find them with God and Goddess;
Find them in flowers, and trees,
in the wind and the setting sun.
Then bring them with you for sharing.
Do not make me your reason
for living or dying-
my approval, the source of your power;
my touch, your salvation;
my eyes, your self-knowing-
for I would grow to despise you,
and you resent and loathe me.
This power that you would give me
I truly do not want.
At best, it could only serve
to soothe the doubts I hold,
and make me feel important to you,
and needed and worthy-
filled with a false sense of purpose-
but fleetingly.
And you would imprison me
away from my own sense of Essence,
and from the truth of my soul,
and from the Goddess that I Am,
and from my true power and Light.
You would cripple me, surely-
admiring me with your eyes that hide
your loneliness and need;
your gifts that beg for approval;
your words of praise that hide
your desperation.

Oh, Gentle Man, until the child sleeps
and is peaceful in your garden,
and the knight has lain down
his sword, his armor, his shield,
then, only then, approach my stairs.
and only then will I meet you
When your soul is present and shining
brightly through eyes of love,
then you will see my eyes shining
and looking back at you.
When you give from your heart
and your words are not boasting,
when you know who you are without me,
then I will be free to receive you,
and to give to you fully my love.
For then, we will know that neither
of us can be destroyed.
The surrender that only can come
to two who have first
surrendered to self-
to their own inner Beauty,
and wisdom, and Essence Divine-
will be ours.
Then side by side, in blended Light,
our twin stars will shine
once again.

Amorah Quan Yin