Fable

I lost my husband at Buffum’s
and cawed until he found me.

He still couldn’t hear, yet
through his blurred vision, a raven

flew over the battlefield. Was it over?
Ravenous raven looking for lunch.

Where is the food court?
There he goes again, off,

like it’s the most important occupation.
How far the crow flies may

depend on the barriers in the way.
A crescendo of crows, sinister as black umbrellas.

Menacing. But I’m not backing down.
Follow the raven as she soars high in the sky,

overcoming obstacles in her way.
Escaping the murder, the ebony

Raven rises on the thermal updraft
longing for solitude. Whispered secrets

are answered in silence and carried to the wind.
Soaring above sorrows, strength in motion.

Smoke below, alight west.
Waves of air from flapping wings radiate

to me, unseen. Lovely, weightless
cruise through a newly cleansed sky

transcending time and space
with focus and might.

Now we must dance for three nights against danger.

Here on The Last Frontier

Raven is Creator.
Raven is a trickster, so beware.

The raven high in the sky, a foreshadowing
of things to come during the pandemic.

Freedom, glimpsed dimly through a glass pane.
Oh, Raven, at dusk, invent for us a way to return home.

“Great spirit,” said Raven, “teach people to talk;”
he said ok and flew away.

Aware of imminent demise, the weary,
oft-quoted Raven softly utters “Nevermore!”

Original prompt: Respond to May image for Rattle’s ekphrastic challenge.

Rick Champion, Julianna M. Cruz, Natalie Champion, Frances J. Vasquez, Pat Murkland, Gudelia Vaden, James Luna, Barbara Berg, Burcu Misirli Chatham, Rose Y. Monge, Rebecca K. O’Connor, Juanita E. Mantz Pelaez, Frances T. Borella, Nan Friedley, Cindi Neisinger, Ruth Bavetta, Debby Johnson, Kris Lovekin, Sharon Sekhon, John DiFusco, Kamelyta Noor, Larry Burns, Mary Zenisek, Cati Porter

All That is Here, I Believe

“You road I enter upon and look around, I believe you are not all that is here,
I believe that much unseen is also here.” — Walt Whitman

That which I believe slips quickly through the sieve.
I believe what I believe believe it or not.
‘Do you believe in life after love,’ asked Cher.
I believe love is an intellectual decision to care.
I believe we can learn a lot from the cats and dogs among us.
There is so little I can know, but so much that I can choose to believe.
I believe in the power of my Instant Pot.
I believe in just the right amount of distance.
I believe in the grace of dinner, lovingly prepared.
I believe the sun will come out tomorrow. No time for sorrow.
I believe we will win our democracy back.
I believe in the Magic of Merlin.
I believe I’ll do it better next time.
I believe evolving is a never ending journey.
I believe the time is now for true and sustainable change.
I believe brighter horizons are coming soon and Earth will heal.
I believe in the man in the sky.
I believe in laughter every day.
I believe in the ladies in my life.
I love. I believe. I strive to achieve.
I do not believe, I believe.
Science doesn’t care what I believe.
Raising her clenched fist in the air, she yelled, “I Believe!”

Original prompt: “I believe….”

Natalie Champion , Rose Y. Monge, Cindi Neisinger, Kay Cech Latonio, Frances T. Borella, Juanita E. Mantz Pelaez, Burcu Misirli Chatham, Gudelia Vaden, Tom Vaden, Nan Friedley, Rick Champion, Barbara Berg John DiFusco, Douglas McCulloh, Ruth Bavetta, Debby Johnson, Sharon Sekhon, SalandRachael Maltbie , Dar Stone, Liz Gonzalez, Steve Perry, Raine Lefaivre-Naggi, Rob McMurray, Alexander Akin, Gudelia Vaden

Inlandia, I am from

I am from red dirt and golden illusions.
I am from that drawer of pretty worthless things.
I am from the salt of my tears.
I am from tea ceremonies and rain adopted by
orange blossoms on high winds.
I am from orange blossom scented groves.
I am from concrete garbage trucks and yelling.
I am from taking a chance on different places.
I am from a saltwater breezed ghetto.
I am from ocean breezes, fish and chips,
her Majesty the Queen.
I am from the burning sage and sweat lodge.
I am from stinging dust flung by Santa Anas.
I am from prairie swept by thunderstorms.
I am from cornfields and alfalfa.
I am from a place I never called home.
I am from a long line of stubborn women.
I am from handprints in the cement walkway
on the side of the house.
I am from the land of the Mayas, Aztecs, pyramids,
Spaniards and mariachis.
I’m from purple needlegrass, citrus trees, and trains
from the OG OLG Church in the Westside.
I am from a time when a blue-collar job meant you
could purchase a house
with a mulberry tree in the front yard.
I am from wretched migrant camps,
the sweaty summers of discontent.
I am from the same street where my
Revolutionary war ancestors were buried.
I am from a line of strong crazy women
who seem to enjoy drowning in glorious food.
I am “Gambling Granny” from the biggest little
city in the world. “Place your bets!”
I am from tortillas and butter, incense and candles,
books and blankets. Just a block
and a half from the railroad tracks.
I am from faraway, England, France, Iowa, Texas,
country and city but my soul is Mexican;
the Virgin of Guadalupe guides my way.
I am from the land of Hoosiers still hoping to hear
“gentlemen start your engines” at the Indy 500 Sunday.
I was born where the snow crusts hard on the ground
I’m from where the sun shines on vineyards and orange trees.
I hail from the land of Harry Truman, the Cardinals, the Gateway
Arch, the Clydesdale and the Missouri Mule.
I am from Inlandia and the City by the Bay.
I am from Mexico, Scotland, Ireland, Germany,
and Sweden, a hodgepodge…
Yo soy hija del Maíz y la Luna
Citrus groves green and orange
lemon yellow and plump verdolagas
Blue Mountain and Gage canals.

Original prompt: “I am from…” poem modeled after collaborative poem produced by Kwame Alexander and NPR.

Kamelyta Noor, Ai Miyamoto Kelley, Nan Friedley, Barbara Berg, Rick Champion, Debby Johnson, James Luna, David Stone, Shali Nicholas, Liz Gonzalez, Kris Lovekin, Jessica Lea, Thomas Vaden, Cindy Bousquet Harris, Steve Perry, Janet Alexander, Dar Stone, Juanita E. Mantz Pelaez, Gudelia Vaden, Frances T. Borella, Kim Watkins, Burcu Misirli Chatham, Stephanie Barbé Hammer, Julianna M. Cruz, Tameeca Griffin, Frances J. Vasquez, Larry Burns, Robin Longfield, Natalie Champion, Rose Y. Monge

Only the Essentials

Bandaids for my skin that’s thin;
I always seem to need it.
After the demise,
a water filter is wise.
And don’t forget that feral cat.

Keep a rocket in your pocket to blast
the apocalyptic zombies away.
For my hideaway,
a case of Chardonnay.
And don’t forget that feral cat.

Cinnamon Crunch cereal that
goes snap, crackle and pop!
Power up with my handy
dandy portable generator.
And don’t forget that feral cat.

Orange flavored Gatorade
is so refreshing!
Case of bottled IPA beer.
A bottle of Rum, Keeps things fun. Cheers!
And don’t forget that feral cat.

I always pack my favorite jam
to spread where needed.
Without a dragon? Oh my!
It cooks, heats and flies.
And don’t forget that feral cat.

Not one for practicality,
a record player and lots
of post punk vinyl.
A journal and a pen, or ten.
And don’t forget that feral cat.

Original prompt: What should go in our emergency kit?

Juanita E. Mantz Pelaez, Cindi Neisinger, Dar Stone, Charlotte Ransom McKenzie, Rose Y. Monge, Sherre Vernon, Nan Friedley, Rob McMurray, Thomas Vaden, Natalie Champion, Gudelia Vaden, Frances T. Borella, Debby Johnson, Jessica Lea

Each Stone with a Story of Its Own

A dirty job indeed, but someone has to monetize it.
Beautiful day, as the birds still sing and people rejoice.
Capable people are most likely to succeed. Mundane
Days turn to evening revelry. Deep mauves adorn the May sky.
Every poetic word awaits the morning verse.
Fanciful desserts tantalize and invite my desires.
Grapes weigh heavy and stain my lips.
Heavy hearts search for signs.
Indigo blues in shade and rhythm.
Jamming morning glories.
Kinky stockings are my desire.
Lonely meadows calling for their matching souls.
Mourning news obituary, Penney’s quit retail sales today.
Newborn cries to be heard.
Ocean waves highlighted by wondrous sunsets.
Perfumed petunias painting the horizon pink.
Quiet mornings kissed with sunshine and gentle breezes.
Red is not the only color. Rusty birds
Squawk and rile me. Serenity is a state of mind.
They declare their love boldly— blue flag irises offer sepals to the bees.
Under cloudless skies, hope remains.
Vivid sunrises hark the new day.
Walls crumbled, each stone with a story of its own.
Xylophonic rhapsody tingles tin tones of xenial fashion.
Your every word is like music to my ears.
Zestful notes in the chickadee’s song.

Original prompt: Write one line of poetry beginning with a letter from the alphabet. Consult other lines to see which letters are missing. Goal: Write an abecedarian.

Cindy Bousquet Harris, Gudelia Vaden, Debby Johnson, Ai Minamoto Kelly, Burcu Misirli Chatham, Rob McMurray, Thomas Vaden, Nan Friedley, Debby Johnson, Lynn Doiron, Dar Stone, Kamelyta Noor, Juanita E. Mant Pelaez, Frances J. Vasquez, Natalie Champion, Frances T. Borella, Ruth Bavetta

Your Secret Superpower Is

Frenchness, mood swings,
and detachable arms.
Superhuman hearing, but only
when I’m trying to sleep.

The ability to look
on the bright side—
and, if I don’t see it,
I can shine a light.

To see, feel, touch and understand
the souls of all living things
I am the soul listener,
the encouragement whisperer

Wonder girl, costume and cape included,
my power is the ability to dance on command
I can twirl like a Dervish until the world wakes up
and there is love and peace around the world.

Sunrise brightened my bedroom
and the Doves chirped anew
I joined my feathered friends
in rhythmic avian song.

In the blink of an eye, I was outside,
Then another blink, I was back in.
I am surrounded by a clear light that repels sharp edges
and absorbs the scent of eucalyptus trees.

The Patient and I sit face to face and six feet apart.
I breathe into my heart and connect up with his heart.
His Aura is bright as he begins to stand upright.
The long battle is won.
The “Healing” has begun.

I wave my magic Harry Potter wand,
poof the coronavirus disappears.
Earth and Humanity breathe

I got out my crystal ball and predicted
the future: they’ve found a pill.
Tastes like strawberries, for Coronavirus.
Been keeping my psychic powers a secret

I can get something done by just planning to do it!
I don’t like to brag but I bend time;
things due today — presto— due
next week or never….

Tell me a lie and I will know
Like Pinocchio, your nose will grow.
No need to cry if you comply
Truth spoken; spell broken

My mouth opens and money comes out.
All for a hug, how much do you want?
…and then, to everyone’s astonishment,
I don’t say what it is I really want to say

Original prompt: You wake up to find you have a superpower. What is it?

John DiFusco, Frances J. Vasquez, Juanita E. Mantz Pelaez, Debby Johnson, Cindy Bousquet Harris, Magdalena Nunez, Natalie Champion, Barbara Berg, Burcu Misirli Chatham, Stephanie Barbé Hammer, Gudelia Vaden, Douglas McCulloh, Shali Nicholas, Dar Stone, Rose Y. Monge, Ruth Bavetta, Cindi Neisinger

Message from Future You

Honey, you survived the Pandemic.
Though your life changed, aware
Of every little germ and cough.
Never the same!

Don’t worry, your favorite
Little dudes will again play
Hockey at Ice Town
As you celebrate each goal
Maskless, wearing Woolie gloves.

You survived the pandemic.
I’m glad that you are back
In preschool; the little
Ones missed you.

Survival mattered; collateral
Damage unforeseen. Physical
Separation, psychological
Isolation and sensory
Deprivation endures-
“Same as it ever was.”
Pray for the future generation.

My body, the reflection of time.
Of time standing on Earth.
Of steps taken.
Of races run.
Of battles won.
My body.
My Earth vehicle.
Still standing on Earth..

It wasn’t the end
Just the beginning
Of a better Earth

One of the pandemic’s victims:
Big oil. You will be happy
To hear that skies are blue and clear.

If you travel far enough into
The future, you’ll find we’ve
Conquered disease and death.
You’ll love it when you get here.

When you stand on the edge of time
Having earned every wrinkle and line
You’ll accomplish what you set out to do
You were loyal, brave and true

You can’t imagine how you landed
Here among the light and dark
But I know you will come to find
The way, the light, the meaning.

Dear Me, everything you want
To be or can be is within
You and your grasp

You’re enough.

Original prompt: A letter sent to you now from yourself twenty years from now.

Kris Lovekin Debby Johnson Gudelia Vaden Rose Y. Monge Cati Porter John DiFusco Juanita E. Mantz Pelaez, Rob McMurray Dar Stone Kamelyta Noor Natalie Champion Nan Friedley

Aliens to the… Rescue?

Into the vast infinity
I am thrust alone, wandering
hearing only my inconsolable
cry, “take me home”

I enter the snowy kingdom
of Narnia and a deranged alien abducts me
and takes me to the White Witch’s castle.
My knees are shaking and I start to faint…

Shaking like a scared cat at being abducted
by little green men with helmets.
They take me to another planet unknown to me.
Then I wake up from my slumber!

Shaking, I jump up in bed,
awakening from my dream
Up I go, taken
by a beam with a scream

But wait! it wasn’t a dream?
“One, two, three,” pushed me into a black hole,
“To a better universe,” they claimed.
“Finally!” I exclaimed.

Pitched into darkness, rescued
by shimmering light expanding into
an iridescent explosion of glorious colors
as I’m tethered safely in place.

Sweet rescue from pandemic
worries. Isolation broken! Adventure!
New friends! No thought
of ever coming back!

Yesssss! Finally! I get to ride a space ship.
New experience. Fascinating journey.
Abducted? No no no.
It’s a fresh new beginning. For freeeeee!

Lifted up in a golden blanket
of stardust I wave goodbye to Gaia,
“Spread your love as I have
shown you,” she whispers.

At first, I’m scared, then relieved
to be off this damn planet. After interrogating me
about life on Earth, they take pity on us
because we’ve mucked things up

enough and life is too inhospitable
for their species to even conquer.
Mine is an easy captivity, but
satisfactions here all feel somehow brittle.

Rescued from contagion— a welcome blessing.
Mind and body decompressing.
What becomes of me, I won’t fret —
Just give me access to the Internet.

My aliens are smaller than me, but
with 6 ft long arms. One puts a protective
shield over my face and wraps me
in a blanket with special powers.

The blanket transforms into a C to hug me
every hour. I tell them I am grateful,
but could I please go home to
a better Earth once this is all over?

Wearing hazmat suits, all I could see
were their beady green eyes.
They seemed to distance
themselves from me after

checking my temperature and sticking
a swab up my nose. I was then transported
to a world of breathing machines
and IV lines for further study.

Original prompt: Today, you have awakened to find that you have been abducted by aliens. How do you feel about this? Where do they take you? Do you ever make it home?

Nan Friedley, Rose Y. Monge, Raine Lefaivre-Naggi, Barbara Berg, Debby Johnson, Rob McMurray, Burcu Misirli Chatham, Gudelia Vaden, Julianna M. Cruz, Kamelyta Noor, Natalie Champion, Joseph Milazzo, Dar Stone, Juanita Mantz

Behind the jar of marmalade,

A trove of pixies and fairies
nestled in the shade
calling, “Climb in and play.”

My arms full of fairy dust, I open
the closet door to see a new world of fairies.
They are iridescently beautiful
and spread peace, love and happiness.

I’m traveling with Princess Tabitha
to a sunny, flowery kingdom where fairies
and Glinda the Good Witch lives
Maybe I’ll meet the Wizard of Oz
and he’ll grant my three wishes…

Bagging Goodwill donations, magically
all the skinny clothes in the back
of my closet now fit perfectly.

My closet, full of decades of clothes
I no longer wear, takes me to those night clubs
where I danced away time.

I enter a world of rock gods that have passed
Cobain and Bowie play next to Johnny Cash.
When Prince joins in, I swoon,
Fainting in my Nirvana-type Narnia.

My arms full of towels, I open the linen closet
door, only to find I am standing on a cliff!

I open my clothes closet and instead I see
a bird suit with wings especially for me.
I insert my arms, step out into the sky,
and you know what comes next, I start to fly.

I open the small unmarked box hidden
in the bedroom closet. A tattered leather leash?
Yes, and his favorite doggie toy! I close my eyes
and I’m transported to the Rainbow Bridge
where Five-0 waits patiently, tail
a-wagging and ears flopping in the wind.

Crouched down, peering into the dark.
No pots and pans. My hand rests on cool
crystals of sand. Thunderous crash of waves
send saltwater spray against my cheeks.

I opened Mother’s hope chest, a time capsule
of her youth, and found love letters
from my father, a testament of love.

Checked the dried flowers hanging in the dark
hall closet and was lured into a florid chasm
to the queendom of symbiotic plant harmony.

At the back of the front hall closet,
I step into an alternative universe where
we honor nature and respect science.

I opened the secret door, unseen
and hidden for years, a whoosh of musty air
blew my hair out of my face. When
the dusty cloud cleared, I peered in
on a perfectly groomed garden—clearly not
my ramble of over growth— perfectly
manicured— but by whom? Then I hear
the scratch of a metal rack across
tiny trail pebbles. My eyes caught only
movement and the color red— could it
have been a little cap atop a garden gnome?

I will never know. I closed the door
and went out to water my thirsty tomatoes.

Original prompt: You are in your house and go to the closet and open the door but instead of towels or potato chips or clothes, you see another world. Where and when do you go? Who or what do you meet there?

Juanita E. Mantz Pelaez, Julianna M. Cruz, Cindi Neisinger, Rose Y. Monge, Barbara Berg, Debby Johnson, Natalie Champion, Gudelia Vaden, Nan Friedley, Kris Lovekin, Frances T. Borella, Frances J. Vasquez, Ginger Galloway, Cati Porter

Just Another Monday in Quarantine

Wake up! It’s time to get up and go to work
in my pajamas, while the coffee perks.

Up with the sun, exercise at heart.
This is how I determine the day will start.

I hear things are starting to open
Is there a job for me? Sure am hoping!

God knows how sexy I feel
When I wear a glorious green high heel!

Monday in quarantine is like a bad stew
Except when I am awoken by a sweet mew.

Milo Morris says mew mew:
Feed me chicken stew!

My dog with black patches I named Pow Pow.
No wonder his former owner named him Cow Cow!

I brought home a dog I named Zancudo
Long-legged like a grasshopper and ate Menudo.

My morning is busy, I do lots of chores,
Laundry, dishes, and sweeping the floor.

Gentle breezes and delicate chirping.
Somewhere in the garden a cricket is lurking.

Feet in the ground, I reach, trying to bud.
My roots inhale deeply, looking for mud.

Have I listened to all the sun has said
or busied myself inside baking bread?

Eavesdropping on birds singing a duet,
Worried they may stop if too close I get.

A pig, a pond, a perfect storm pervades.
A gathering, a smattering of ants invade.

Nights and days are becoming blurry.
Unable to hug a loved one is a worry.

Monday’s children blessed with faces sweet and fair
must hold hearts imbued with love, empathy and care.

The next generation:
Tape on floor marks our separation.

Wear it, don’t wear it, only you can decide.
Mask or not, let your conscience be your guide.

Bombay Club sings “I got my second wind”.
Hoping you get yours as you elect to stay in.

Original prompt: Write a rhyming couplet, i.e. two lines of poetry about ten syllables each that have a words on the end that sound the same.

Cati Porter, Ginger Galloway, Frances J. Vasquez, Debby Johnson, Sharon Sekhon, Stephanie Barbé Hammer, Frances T. Borella, Nan Friedley, Rose Y. Monge, Burcu Misirli Chatham, Thomas Vaden, Gudelia Vaden, Dar Stone, Barbara Berg, Lynn Doiron, Mark Givens, Kamelyta Noor, John DiFusco, Natalie Champion