NATIONAL POETRY MONTH, APRIL 16 #NAPOWRIMO

Thank you, e. e. cummings…

Photo by John Ren on Unsplash

what of a b of a knee on a neck? what of hands
“holding,”
choking
choking — no
joking — cho-

king and more
choking and what of a gun I mean
even a toy gun
scares the bejesus
out of big bad coppers???

what of a ground on the man trying, dying to make
one last sound, crying this brother 4
his mother — about to smother

2 death.

what of that b of a knee?
Can a he — meaning the knee —
be arrested?
sent to jail?
released on bail? …


Blessings come in all sizes…

Photo by Giulia May on Unsplash

On the one hand, we’re lifting up the lives of women who are all about saving the planet.

In response to this week’s Pump-Priming Prompt, Debbie Walker and Marilyn Flower share stories about Native American leaders doing just that. Indigenous people’s have such a strong physical and spiritual connection with the earth that it’s no surprise to find them in the forefront of healing Mama GAIA.

On the other hand, much meaning is to be found in the poetry of our connection to beautiful and practical handmade objects. Many of Margie Pearl’s stories follow this theme, including her new poem.


Friday Prompt

How can I turn the heavy lead of my life into gold?

Photo by Mark Kamalov on Unsplash

I certainly have a lot of leads I’d love to have rendered into something shimmery, glittery, and lighter.

It doesn't have to be gold. Gilt or foil would be just fine. Being relieved of my heaviness would be a blessing in and of itself.

What heaviness might that be?

The heaviness in my heart feels like I’m in a holding pattern with my life. Like I’ve been in labor way past the nine-month mark. As they tick past, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen — over a year? Wow! Really?

When will this baby finally be born?

And what or who is this baby exactly? Is it…


NATIONAL POETRY MONTH, APRIL 15 #NAPOWRIMO

Made us love Vincent…

Van Gogh's Stary Night courtesy of canva.com

Constellation of stars
meet me in the night sky
as day turns off,
night turns on.
From millions of light-years away,
they wink and blink and twink at me…
Just like they winked and blinked
and twinked at Van Gogh.

Millions of light-years fell,
captured onto his canvas,
sprinkled into brush strokes.
Swirls of yellow, gold, midnight blue.

Vincent, you knew what to do
to let me feel your heart
kissed by distant stars that loved you
from afar, from a million light-years away —
too far to save you.

Thanks to ◦•●Christina M. …


An Ojibwe activist shows us how to survive and thrive

Mother Earth needs us to keep our covenant.*

If I had to pick a woman with not only the vision but the hands-on, how-to smarts to save the planet from destruction and teach us all how to live sustainably, it would be Winona LaDuke.

As you can see by her affirmation above, we have a sacred obligation, if not a life-sustaining urgency, to do right by our Mama GAIA. As much as many deny it, our very lives depend on it.

While some of us bide our time, Winona, an Ojibwe environmental activist, is all about living and creating solutions…


NATIONAL POETRY MONTH, APRIL 14 #NAPOWRIMO

Fills the nighttime sky

Photo by Matt ODell on Unsplash

Chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff…used to be rush hour traffic copter overhead.

Chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff…chills rip up and down my spine…
Chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff…another brother or sister of color’s life snuffed out…

Chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff…right outside my window of an evening…
Chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff…lasers crisscrossing the crowds below…

Chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff…fades a bit then returns…
Chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff…Black Lives Matter, out in full force…

Chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff…the louder, the closer…
CHUFF, CHUFF, CHUFF CHUFF…they’re on the freeway…
CHUFF, CHUFF, CHUFF CHUFF…to say, STOP the killings!

CHUFF, CHUFF, CHUFF CHUFF…they keep happening…
CHUFF, CHUFF, CHUFF CHUFF…streets, parks, freeway overpasses…
CHUFF, CHUFF, CHUFF CHUFF…full of weary, angry souls…

CHUFF, CHUFF, CHUFF CHUFF…Your kids, my kids, your granny, my granny. CHUFF…


Essay Contest

Incite Change Essay Contest #1: Poverty

Photo by Chris Benson on Unsplash

Opal asked me to do her hair for the funeral.

I didn't know how to “do hair,” but I could not refuse. “Okay, as long as you don’t mind pin curls.”

Her answer was some form of whatever. Besides, she couldn’t afford a beauty parlor, and she wanted to look nice for the funeral.

She came upstairs to my apartment and I bobby pinned her freshly washed hair into pin curls. When I took the pins out a few hours later, she looked like Shirley Temple. …


Wednesday Prompt

No one’s ever asked me this before

Photo by Allef Vinicius on Unsplash

What a great question!

To uncover the answer, I had to go through a mental checklist.

Is it health?

Heck no. If I don’t pay close attention to how much water I’m drinking, make sure I exercise and stretch, and the biggie, make timely doctor appointments, I’ll fall apart at the seams.

Is it wealth?

I’m not wealthy; the words just rhyme. I am retired after 31 years with the county health care system. Thanks to the union I worked for and in, we have generous pensions. So generous my income increased when I retired! And so far, I don’t need to draw my Social Security.


Whether or not they’re making headlines

Photo by Alekon pictures on Unsplash

Women are out in front making changes in every walk of life. They may not be making headlines. But they’re making a difference.

So it’s good to stop and reflect, learn their names and lift them up.

Earth Day falls in April. And if we don’t protect our planet, we won’t have a world to leave our children and grandchildren.

So Marilyn Flower invites us to learn the names and stories of the eco-angels in the forefront of environmental justice.

Stacy Davenport showcases women protecting the great apes and chimps, our closest primate relatives.

And Debbie Walker gets her inspiration…


NATIONAL POETRY MONTH, APRIL 13 #NAPOWRIMO

I’ve been mooning over you all night long

Photo by 🇸🇮 Janko Ferlič on Unsplash

Yes, I know you’re a heavenly body
millions of miles away in the sky.
Yes, I know you’re not really a crescent,
and I know why. Instead of teasing me,
it’s time to start pleasing me, and you
already know what to do.

You’re a crescent, first and foremost.
and in my book, that means roll. That means
I get to drown you in butter and feed my soul.
Even better if you’re full of chocolate bits.

The coffee’s brewing, my thoughts are stewing,
eggs are frying in grease. …

Marilyn Flower

Writer, sacred fool, improviser, avid reader, writer, novel forthcoming, soul collage facilitator, prayer warrior and did I say writer?

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