Chris Wood is a life-long resident of the Hudson Valley region of New York, where he hosts and participates in various music and literary events. His poetry and songwriting have been deemed aggressively spiritual and inspirational, infusing a common-sense, practical wisdom that engages the reader and leaves no subject untreated. He is the Editor-in-Chief of Heyday Magazine: A print and online literary journal showcasing: Poetry, Art, Articles, Interviews, and Reviews. He hosts The Starving Artist: a poetry blog, as well as The Mars Hill blog which is dedicated to engaging contemporary culture in a thoughtful discussion with the Christian worldview of Scripture and faith in Jesus Christ. He occasionally sleeps a few hours every other Thursday, converses with woodland creatures, and enjoys devouring deep poetry and coffee. He’s been published in The Jet-Fuel Review, Home Planet News, and several other literary journals.
Greetings and Blessings,
Welcome to the site, and thank you for your time and your support, it really means the world to me. As you can tell from the bio above, I have many interests that cast a wide net across creative expression and diverse disciplines. So, whatever medium that sparked your interest in my work, I hope that you will find something engaging here, and I would love for you to share your creative expressions with me as well. If you want to submit your work for consideration in Heyday Magazine, please follow the submission guidelines on the Heyday website and do so through the submission manager.
As far as getting to know me, I thought it best to include a few biographical poems that I’ve written over the years to reflect on my life. The poems that I’ve included here consist of all three main topics of my creative disciplines: Faith, Poetry, and Music. The poems are: Bowling With The Maestro, from my upcoming Full-Length volume “The Cost of Poetry,” Buffet, from my chapbook “Waiting For Dawn,” and Hermeneutics, from “The Golden Road: Poems, Prayer, and Petitions on The Narrow Road to Freedom.
If you enjoy the poems, share them with someone else who may enjoy them. If you want to read more of my work, please check out the books I have available here on the site. Thanks again for stopping by, and please come back often and sign up for email updates to new releases and promotional deals. Keep your pen to the page, your ear to the music, and your mind to the wonder all around us. Be blessed – Chris Wood
Poetry surrounds me
look at me, see!
but tangent moments
of sagas unfolding;
notions and emotions
bathed in old-soul
The haunt of war-torn
bones with pre-birth
scars of worlds forgotten.
Fruit that’s rotten
on the vine of
time’s right eye.
Side by side with
beggars and thieves
crumbs from the
of poetry’s table—
Long thought fiction,
Bowling with the Maestro
At the age of 14, I thought I knew what I’d be: a pro bowler. With a 184 average, I won every tournament for two seasons; had pros on the circuit tell me I was a natural; keep it up kid; hone your skills and you could make a living at this. But, when death showed up in the form of an aneurysm and ripped to shreds any sense of my childhood, my family scattered forever. And in dividing possessions from my grandmother’s attic, I found a guitar: a Spanish classical gem; nylon stringed wonder to my hands. And for Christmas, I opted to get it fixed and set up instead of a new ball and shoes.
I quit the league, lost my passion for sport, and spent Saturday mornings training my fingers and senses to Ludwig Van’s “Fur Elise.” I bought a bust of Beethoven at a yard sale for a dollar; my brother hated it. He and my cousin mocked me for years, but I knew it had more to do with me no longer bowling and carrying the team.
I didn’t have the words to explain what music did to fill the spaces that the death of innocence created. It was a world of expression that was wholly my own, and I felt born to create. As for the ceramic shrine to the Maestro, when I had moved into my own place, me and three friends at just 16, a party house in every way, someone signed Ludwig’s left cheek and this became a common practice until not six months past and the bust was busted in a drunken haze. I had moved on to Paganini by then, bought a Les Paul and studied Diary of a Madman until my fingers would literally bleed.
But now, 16 years later, November of 2011 is Beethoven awareness month on WQXR, New York’s classical music station. A fact, of which I’m sure, no one else I know has been aware. But, I set the dial on my radio at bedside to sleep and wake with genius invention and do what the Maestro wasn’t able at the end of his life: simply hear it—and be amazed.
For him, it was always and only in his head and on the page. And if the movie adaptation is correct, with Gary Oldman cast as Ludwig, then his nephew Carl, the beloved pupil, didn’t understand. He complained about his uncle, said he had lost his mind; he walks around all day humming an insane childish tune, “Da daaa da dada da da da” (Ode to Joy melody).
And, It makes me wonder, if he and Ludwig’s brothers would rather the Maestro had gone bowling instead of forever altering the lives of so many?
-For Schuyler Signor
I don’t subscribe to numerology, don’t
search for codes or hidden knowledge
at least, not any longer. When I first
set my mind to study scripture, I was
attracted to its wisdom, after a lifestyle
of skepticism and railing against its
sixty-six books, written over thirteen
hundred years, by over Forty authors.
Something I was unaware of, viewed it
simply as a single object and not the
library it is.
I started tuning in to T.V. preachers
thinking, surely they know more than
I could, but I didn’t find objective thinking
only fluffy, cliché motivation, wrapped up
in their empty speeches, and promises
attached to various beliefs I couldn’t turn
to in its pages. And worse, the constant
concentration on matters of the world
around us, distracting listeners from a
focus on the world within.
Worse still, what I now refer to as
Christian Pulp Fiction: the steady stream
of blurring and twisting the obscure
apocalyptic writings to try and fit our
current events into historical settings.
The evidence that this is simply foolish
propaganda is the constant need to reinvent
the dates and signs attached to certain symbols
which are violently wrenched out of their context.
Yet, these conmen still sell millions
of copies of their false interpretations
of the Hebrew, Greek or Aramaic
in which this library was written. Praying
on the fear and ignorance of their faithful
readership. But, if you asked me what the
scripture says about a certain thing, I would
not quote King James or Alexander’s
I would tell you in a simple speech, then
I’d tell you what was actually written, then
by whom, then to whom, and then I’d tell
you what we know about that time period.
Then, I would tell you what Twelve other
systems and denominations might believe
and teach about what that says—means.
Then I’d tell you what I believe it means
based on the entirety of my understanding
which like all real vibrant and objective
searching is progressive and dynamic.
So, when I pray for wisdom and for clarity
and then set my mind and time and vision
to discover all of these things, I often think
it might be better, if instead, for just this
one time, I would simply ask for wings.