The White Bird

By WILLIAM BERNHARDT

Readers can open any page in this book at random and realize that William Bernhardt is a poet of the rarest kind - one who can communicate grace, humanity, and shared experience without the obscurity and obfuscation that sometimes causes people to avoid modern poetry. His everyman approach and direct language draws in readers who might normally never give a poem a second glance.

Drawing inspiration from forebears such as Billy Collins and Robert Frost, Bernhardt creates a unique voice that is at once accessible and profound.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Babylon Books
• Release date: Oct 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9780999342060

WILLIAM BERNHARDT

William Bernhardt (b. 1960), a former attorney, is a bestselling thriller author. Born in Oklahoma, he began writing as a child, submitting a poem about the Oklahoma Land Run to Highlights—and receiving his first rejection letter—when he was eleven years old. Twenty years later, he had his first success, with the publication of Primary Justice (1991), the first novel in the long-running Ben Kincaid series. The success of Primary Justice marked Bernhardt as a promising young talent, and he followed the book with seventeen more mysteries starring the idealistic defense attorney, including Murder One (2001) and Hate Crime (2004). Bernhardt’s other novels include Double Jeopardy (1995) and The Midnight Before Christmas (1998), a holiday-themed thriller. In 1999, Bernhardt founded Bernhardt Books (formerly HAWK Publishing Group) as a way to help boost the careers of struggling young writers. In addition to writing and publishing, Bernhardt teaches writing workshops around the country. He currently lives with his family in Oklahoma. 

Book preview

Scratches

This is how it begins:

scratches on signs, on blocks

on a white page. Then the

scratches start to dance. They

recombinate, they collect sounds

they call your name.

Like so much in childhood

they are ciphers, full of secrets

but once you learn the dance

the mysteries of this world

and more, are revealed.

You learn to read.

You learn:

manners from Goldilocks

curiosity from George

gluttony from Peter

nonsense from Alice.

You set sail with Jim Hawkins, raft with Huck

and row with Mole.

Love is eternal, Catherine tells you

But so is madness, says the first Mrs. Rochester.

Jeeves helps you laugh

poetry helps you cry

Atticus shows you how to do both, with courage.

Not only have the scratches shaped the world

they have shaped your world.

They have taught you how to see.

Now you need never be afraid.

Now you will never be alone.

In the darkest night

in the deepest solitude

the scratches will call to you.

You will open the covers.

They will reach out their arms and say,

You thought you were the only one?

The Professor

In the beginning there was the Word

and the Word became my life.

When I left Pittsburgh as a boy

I had no idea what it meant

to read, to write, to teach

to compete

but I learned.

I wrote a love poem to woo my lady

and she agreed she would be mine

if I would give up writing poetry.

I go to class armed with my quotations, my books

and my bow tie

but I spend the summers writing

four books in forty years.

What does it matter if anyone has read them

or even reviewed them?

They are good books

and I have poured the strength and soul

of so many summers into them.

Haven’t I earned a little recognition?

Haven’t I at least earned a footnote

in the dissertation

of the next young man from Pittsburgh?

Blessings

After he carves the turkey I

lead the group giving thanks

like an acceptance speech

at the Oscars.

I’d like to thank TLF for

teaching me how to love

in the back seat of my father’s white Cadillac

Harry, for teaching me strength

Mother, for teaching me how to dress

don’t I look sharp in my Armani tux

with the stud instead of a bow tie?

I’d like to thank Joe Blades for

liking my stories even

the stupid ones

and all the little people

who are actually huge

Readers out in Readerland

who make it all possible

by reading my books even

the stupid ones

and that librarian who first shoved a book

into my myopic view

I’d like to thank everyone who lends my life spice

you know who you are

I want to thank—Wait! Don’t

start the music yet

I’m not finished.

--the carver, for teaching me

who I didn’t want to be

Alice, for teaching me

who I did want to be

Ralph, for reminding me who I was.

A groundswell of applause begins

but I bat it down with my hands.

Most of all, I want to thank

the people gathered around this table

we are all hurting

but at least today we are all hurting together.

Mystery Story

Every now and again I catch

a glimpse of myself

we all do it

a fleeting