Nolcha Fox and I have a fun-loving poetry book out with the Garden of Neuro called Too Much Fun To Be Legal. The poems are light-hearted views of grief, love, aging, mischief, marbles, socks, the UPS Guy, and you name it. We collaborated on writing the poems, taking turns with the stanzas until we deemed the poems finished. The process of writing was enjoyable and inspiring. The book, available for preorder on Amazon, launches on August 3. Read on for praise and a sample poem.
Praise for Too Much Fun To Be Legal! We appreciate the enthusiasm for this book!
Is there any better word to describe this book than WOW!? There truly is a relatable story in this collection for everyone. Nolcha and Barb are certainly two distinctly different people, yet through this collection, share one mind perfectly. Two different people flowing in harmony, the human equivalent of a Reece’s Peanut Butter Cup!
— Ken Tomaro, author of Potholes and Perogies
Writing is an act of community. Two poets working on the same poem(s) opens the door to a wider community and even wider wisdom. Nolcha and Barbara turn reading into an act of generosity and imagination that reaches far beyond their words. Too Much Fun to Be Legal is a tour de force, turning these poems into a glittering invitation for all of us to join in.
– Walter Bargen, Missouri’s first Poet Laureate, author of Too Late to Turn Back
Too Much Fun to Be Legal –sarcastic or spot on? Either way, it was insightful to take a metaphorical jaunt through the ups and downs of living, aging, and making choices in our world. You’ll enjoy this delightful collaboration; they’ve produced and presented poetry in such a quick-witted way.
– Susi Bocks, author of Every Day I Pause
I am a fan of the individual works of Barbara and Nolcha, and together they made an excellent poet duo. Too Much Fun to Be Legal is a brilliant and engaging collaborative collection of poems that make you rethink the nature of your own vision and structure of the world. The witty and remarkable play on words is what sets this collection apart from other published poetry books.
– Michelle Ayon Navajas, Amazon Best Selling Author of I Will Love You Forever, Too
Take this book in hand and find a quiet moment. As Nolcha Fox tells us in I’m no poetry groupie, “Images turn into / poems when / this old loner / basks in hush.” With Barbara Leonhard’s response, “My poems / are buried gems. / I dig in silence / searching / for each one,” you will be glad they found them.
– Ken Gierke, author of Glass Awash
Dierik Leonhard says, “Too Much Funnies To Be Legal!”
Thoughts by Ken Tomaro
“I don’t think three sentences can describe what a great collection this is. There was a lot of wordplay I liked, but the poem, “If I was only,” really sticks out.
I don’t usually do current events, like mass shootings. I think writers jump on the bandwagon to bring attention to their own poetry rather than the actual event, but “No Words” was exceptionally well done and really brought to light the tragedy of the event, rather than you as the writers slyly saying, “Look at my marvelous poem…me, me, me!”
Many of these poems are so, so, so relatable, not wordsy or artsy just for the sake of being artsy, just good, down-to-earth poetry that will appeal to a large group of people. Honestly, it’s the kind of writing that makes me want to punch a wall (for good reasons) thinking, why…can’t…I…write…like…that?!
I got to “Road Trip” and I feel like punching so many walls, my arm will fall off. I could never do short stories/flash and I’m so jealous of yours. And the poems just kept getting better and better. I don’t like anything, ever, but it is such a great collection!
I give it a solid 9 out of 10, only because there’s no such thing as perfection. If you want a 10, it’ll cost you $50 and 2 Chunky candy bars.”
Nolcha and I hope you consider ordering the book, which sells for $9.99. The Kindle version sells for $3.99.
SAMPLE POEM: My verses are in italics.
"I’m looking" for that unexpected clue that will point me to the secret door with a lock that matches one of these keys in the drawer where lost things magically appear. Like the shards of my soul lost in traumas. Some left to haunt old homes, playgrounds, hospitals. How to rescue those missing pieces of my memory? Do I rescue what I’ve lost, or do I let my soul shards leave and travel with a lighter load to the secret door? Will they find their way without me? Tapping the cane, too blind to see the next step or find the light switch? This life shattered my mosaic. Can I enter this mystery, broken? I’m a 1,000-piece puzzle with parts of me missing, a mosaic with shattered tiles. Either I mourn what I can’t replace, or make myself a different design.
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