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Home > Shawn Patrick Cormier

Recent Reviews for Shawn Patrick Cormier

Nomadin (Book) - 11/18/2007 1:52:19 PM
Nomadin presents an engrossing tale of mysterious, enchanting characters catapulted by powerful motivations moving against a backdrop of richly drawn settings designed to pull the reader right into the narrative. Humor abounds as writer Cormier fits metaphor, pun and downright whimsical into the tale. Effective dialog carries the reader along on a breathless adventure as the three stalwarts endeavor to outwit the enemy. The reader is easily caught up in the account as Ilien faces danger and his burgeoning use of mysterious powers he never realized were his. Conflict is plentiful and deftly resolved. At every turn Ilien meets near catastrophe, adversity and heart rending upset before he learns that everything is not always as he had first thought. Hooks and twists to suit the most demanding reader. And, the best of all, book two is on it’s way. Excellent book for classroom ‘free reading’ use, parent and/or teacher ‘read-to’ use and pleasure reading for the 11-16 group. Enjoyed the read, happy to recommend. still waiting for the next in the series!!

NiDemon - Sequel to Nomadin (Book) - 7/5/2006 9:48:55 AM
As with Nomadin, I read it in one day. It's an awesome fantasy story that just engulfs your imagination. Can't wait for the next one!

NiDemon - Sequel to Nomadin (Book) - 3/15/2006 1:26:01 PM
Title: Nidemon Entertaining Read …….. Recommended …. 4 stars Treachery, runes, life, death, more than one sword and a prophesy fulfilled will be revealed before the tale is finished. The tale ends with farewells, hope and the beginning of a journey. Once again writer Cormier captures the essential quality of the genre to produce one more zestful, fast paced text. Read full review as Author'sDen article: mj hollingshead page: Nidemon ... Molly's Reviews

The Map in the Hall : Nomadin Chapter One (Short Story) - 6/8/2014 9:52:18 AM
enjoyed this when I reviewed your book, enjoy it now! so, are you working on a new book? I'm ready to review

The Map in the Hall : Nomadin - Chapter One (Short Story) - 6/8/2014 9:51:46 AM
enjoyed this when I reviewed your book, enjoy it now!

Of Witches and Wands - Nomadin Chapter Two (Short Story) - 6/8/2014 9:51:30 AM
enjoyed this when I reviewed your book, enjoy it now!

Of Witches and Wands - Nomadin Chapter Two (Short Story) - 6/8/2014 9:51:07 AM
enjoyed this when I reviewed your book, enjoy it now!

Whisper and Warnings - Nomadin Chapter Three (Short Story) - 6/8/2014 9:50:49 AM
enjoyed this when I reviewed your book, enjoy it now!

Whisper and Warnings - Nomadin Chapter Three (Short Story) - 11/21/2013 6:44:28 AM
a fine read, much enjoyed budd

Of Witches and Wands - Nomadin Chapter Two (Short Story) - 10/25/2013 6:01:38 AM
well written budd

Play Hero (Short Story) - 10/15/2013 11:31:32 AM
Certainly gripping and making me want to read more. Since I am quadriplegic and cannot turn in bed (except when I spasm involuntarily), I can identify with the feeling of being in a straitjacket unable to even scratch an itch on my nose. As improbable as the space required to store six capsules is, I have recently lost chunks of carrot between my teeth and gums, and, unable to use a toothpick, have worn my tongue bloody trying to get those irritating pieces out. I assume there will be a flashback to earlier times when Jane was in the picture. There are a few spellos… taut and dough come to mind. We all can use a little editing. Ron

Play Hero (Short Story) - 10/15/2013 9:07:00 AM
well penned budd

Killing Time (Short Story) - 6/24/2010 12:46:08 PM
Excellent story, Shawn.

Killing Time (Short Story) - 6/24/2010 6:51:56 AM
Holy fucking shit! There no other way to say it when I describe this story, it's that damn good. I see you have a publisher linked up too, I will take a look to see what they have there man. If they have stories like this one, then this author is sold.

The Sunday Herald (Short Story) - 11/18/2007 1:43:30 PM
enjoyed the read, didn't know you were posting to AD! welcome

The Sunday Herald (Short Story) - 9/25/2006 7:46:49 AM
Beautiful story. It holds attention and is nicely written. :-) One suggestion: "He met Naomi at the airport." Here, you might want to say "He had met..." to show that you're jumping back in time for a moment. Otherwise, it looks like he's meeting her again in present time. I love how you slid into the ending so well. The story all flows together as smoothly as the plane through the blue sky. :-)

The Sunday Herald (Short Story) - 9/21/2006 3:31:29 PM
Nice and talented story. Very emotional and captivating. Charles D. O'Connor III (Check out my new work "Mable's Grave")

The Sunday Herald (Short Story) - 9/3/2006 2:31:29 PM
very nice work.....

The Child Within (Poetry) - 2/5/2014 6:28:46 PM
I think this is brilliant because to everyone of its readers a different yet meaningful message is learned. Thant you for this.

The Child Within (Poetry) - 2/5/2014 10:51:05 AM
I sense an old man whose wife has passed away, still setting the table for two. The boy at the door is his memory of his youth. But then I'm probably wrong because a therapist is involved. Ron

Pebble (Poetry) - 8/22/2013 11:15:01 AM in sync with your train of are many others! am saving this one ..thank you Shawn.. Blessings, Vesna :)

Castaway (Poetry) - 2/16/2012 12:26:12 PM
Wow, the likes of this poem remind me of Tennyson's "Lady of Shallot," nice poem and great rhyming. THE LADY OF SHALLOT by Tennyson On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And thro' the field the road runs by To many-tower'd Camelot; And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below, The island of Shalott. Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Through the wave that runs for ever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. Four grey walls, and four grey towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott. By the margin, willow veil'd, Slide the heavy barges trail'd By slow horses; and unhail'd The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd Skimming down to Camelot: But who hath seen her wave her hand? Or at the casement seen her stand? Or is she known in all the land, The Lady of Shalott? Only reapers, reaping early, In among the bearded barley Hear a song that echoes cheerly From the river winding clearly; Down to tower'd Camelot; And by the moon the reaper weary, Piling sheaves in uplands airy, Listening, whispers, " 'Tis the fairy Lady of Shalott." There she weaves by night and day A magic web with colours gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott. And moving through a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear. There she sees the highway near Winding down to Camelot; There the river eddy whirls, And there the surly village churls, And the red cloaks of market girls Pass onward from Shalott. Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, An abbot on an ambling pad, Sometimes a curly shepherd lad, Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad Goes by to tower'd Camelot; And sometimes through the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two. She hath no loyal Knight and true, The Lady of Shalott. But in her web she still delights To weave the mirror's magic sights, For often through the silent nights A funeral, with plumes and lights And music, went to Camelot; Or when the Moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed. "I am half sick of shadows," said The Lady of Shalott. A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, He rode between the barley sheaves, The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, And flamed upon the brazen greaves Of bold Sir Lancelot. A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd To a lady in his shield, That sparkled on the yellow field, Beside remote Shalott. The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, Like to some branch of stars we see Hung in the golden Galaxy. The bridle bells rang merrily As he rode down to Camelot: And from his blazon'd baldric slung A mighty silver bugle hung, And as he rode his armor rung Beside remote Shalott. All in the blue unclouded weather Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather, The helmet and the helmet-feather Burn'd like one burning flame together, As he rode down to Camelot. As often thro' the purple night, Below the starry clusters bright, Some bearded meteor, burning bright, Moves over still Shalott. His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode; From underneath his helmet flow'd His coal-black curls as on he rode, As he rode down to Camelot. From the bank and from the river He flashed into the crystal mirror, "Tirra lirra," by the river Sang Sir Lancelot. She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; "The curse is come upon me," cried The Lady of Shalott. In the stormy east-wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning, The broad stream in his banks complaining. Heavily the low sky raining Over tower'd Camelot; Down she came and found a boat Beneath a willow left afloat, And around about the prow she wrote The Lady of Shalott. And down the river's dim expanse Like some bold seer in a trance, Seeing all his own mischance -- With a glassy countenance Did she look to Camelot. And at the closing of the day She loosed the chain, and down she lay; The broad stream bore her far away, The Lady of Shalott. Lying, robed in snowy white That loosely flew to left and right -- The leaves upon her falling light -- Thro' the noises of the night, She floated down to Camelot: And as the boat-head wound along The willowy hills and fields among, They heard her singing her last song, The Lady of Shalott. Heard a carol, mournful, holy, Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, Till her blood was frozen slowly, And her eyes were darkened wholly, Turn'd to tower'd Camelot. For ere she reach'd upon the tide The first house by the water-side, Singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shalott. Under tower and balcony, By garden-wall and gallery, A gleaming shape she floated by, Dead-pale between the houses high, Silent into Camelot. Out upon the wharfs they came, Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame, And around the prow they read her name, The Lady of Shalott. Who is this? And what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer; And they crossed themselves for fear, All the Knights at Camelot; But Lancelot mused a little space He said, "She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott."

Pebble (Poetry) - 2/16/2012 12:21:33 PM
Sounds like the feelings of emptiness all of us have. Nice wording!

Pebble (Poetry) - 3/7/2011 5:50:06 PM
Hi Shawn, So much more to that "peace" isn't there? Thank you for sharing this emotionally charged write.. =)) In Spirit, Bear

Pebble (Poetry) - 2/24/2010 6:23:43 PM
Know these feelings all to well. Great write. Thank you, DL Mullan

That Endless Runway (Poetry) - 8/4/2009 10:37:31 AM
You write true: the memories we have of someone dearly departed quite alot of the time are filled with negative, guilty emotions. Like a story left half-written, or "like a song left unsung". The wind? Fantastic metaphor, truly.

Castaway (Poetry) - 8/4/2009 10:33:31 AM
What does it truly take for a man to find himself? To be totally alone, isolated from all other feelings, people or stimuli. And out of the darkness comes a maiden so clearly made for you, made for "us": myself and I. Your descriptions work wonders on a tempered heart, and this woman you love should feel fair and confident in herself; you obviously see her that way. She is a lucky woman to have such endearing, respectful thoughts written about her.

Castaway (Poetry) - 7/20/2009 4:15:26 AM
What a lovely tribute to your wife.....lots to think about in your words. I really enjoyed the lyrical flow of your poem. Anna

Pebble (Poetry) - 7/20/2009 4:12:50 AM
Yes Shawn, I have been there. Excellent write. Anna

Pebble (Poetry) - 3/11/2009 4:30:56 PM
If you drop a pebble into a pond its ripples cross the pond. are not your words like pebbles, droped into the pond of humanity?rcs

That Endless Runway (Poetry) - 5/15/2008 6:29:22 AM
Memories of him will always be and in spirit he is with you now. God needed him to do work in heaven and took him to that place to be. He is not alone but with loved ones gone before and the angels and God.

Pebble (Poetry) - 4/30/2008 9:19:36 AM
Tossed back from the ocean, but the ocean is so peaceful a place to me. You are not lost among the sand, you are revived and going on from your losses very nicely.

Castaway (Poetry) - 4/30/2008 9:17:52 AM
What a great way to meet and become one. I like the wording of this and ships that pass in the night never stray and this is a beautiful tribute to your wife.**********

That Endless Runway (Poetry) - 11/18/2007 1:56:02 PM

Castaway (Poetry) - 11/18/2007 1:44:31 PM
good one

Pebble (Poetry) - 11/18/2007 1:44:12 PM
i like this

Pebble (Poetry) - 5/13/2007 12:55:33 PM
truer words were never spoken

Pebble (Poetry) - 4/27/2007 7:51:42 PM
very poignant write-i feel like i am in the lost phase right now--anyway, a well done write

Pebble (Poetry) - 9/11/2006 6:35:04 PM
a powerful sense of loss of control over the events in your life ...

Pebble (Poetry) - 9/11/2006 4:05:28 PM
Yes we have. A very apt comparison.

Pebble (Poetry) - 9/11/2006 12:38:24 PM
I like it.... the words flow so well..~Lady GoldStar

That Endless Runway (Poetry) - 9/7/2006 9:33:45 AM
Compelling sentiments that reach the depth of the soul; a fine tribute, Shawn. Thank you for sharing. Love and peace, Regis

Castaway (Poetry) - 9/7/2006 9:32:25 AM
Thank you for sharing this engaging poetic tale, Shawn. Love and peace, Regis

Pebble (Poetry) - 9/7/2006 9:31:13 AM
Yes. You are right. You express a universal human theme here, Shawn. I can certainly relate. Thank you for sharing this offering. Love and peace to you, Regis

Pebble (Poetry) - 9/6/2006 7:12:20 PM
an excellent description of a feeling of helplessness...of being the recipient of whatever whim the fates might have this is very, very good. it reads very well. Susan

Castaway (Poetry) - 9/6/2006 3:21:53 PM
A Onederful tale she will enjoy. Ron

That Endless Runway (Poetry) - 9/4/2006 12:22:25 AM
Now that is a poem worth remembering. Well done and said.

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