A Bouquet of Mothers

First, a vase, tall and lean, thick and wide,
bodaciously curvaceous, glass, ceramic, brass.
Babies breath a delicate flower, an accent
to her beauty. Named for the joy of her heart,
like sweet kisses on her breast. Forget-me-nots,
cornflowers, and blue irises. Dried roses
from your funeral and memories of laughter.
Yellow roses and lavender hydrangeas.
You knew all their names and wondered why
I couldn’t get past lavender and lilac.
Violet geraniums in a bed of pink primroses –
mom’s pandemic garden! My dearest mother,
gone three decades, you loved rust
chrysanthemums, so I always get them for you.
How the big pink peonies grew for you!
Under the cypress trees. And how the big black ants
loved them too. We shook them upside down
each time you cut a stem. Clouds of rosey blooms
in vases all throughout the house April, May and June!
Daisies as fresh and pure as a baby’s first delicious howl of life.
Daisies, sunflowers or marigolds? It didn’t matter,
you loved the amber hues. You named me Rosa—
the only flower in your family bouquet. How cool is that?
Lilies and roses to Mamá who loved me first, and to Tías
who nurtured me along the way: Te amo siempre.
Roses red, violets blue, I am who I am because of you.
Roses are pink, geraniums are red, and the birds have been fed.
Whether the one or ones you mothered are furry or human,
biologically related or not, here’s a lavender rose plant,
my favorite, to scent your daily path in tribute to you.

Original prompt: Write about flowers to create a bouquet for Mother’s Day

Frances J. Vasquez, Liz Gonzalez, Sharon Sekhon, Cati Porter, Raine Lefaivre-Naggi, Gregory Anderson, Mary Torregrossa, Ginger Galloway, Rose Y. Monge, Frances T. Borella, Debby Johnson, Thomas Vaden, Natalie Champion, Rob McMurray, Gudelia Vaden

When You Come to Your Senses

Dented and scratched, dedicated life-line.
Cold, reserved mostly but fills my tummy!
Small and addictive, constantly calling me over.
Smells like hell. Tastes like heaven. Prickly love.
Sleek White Metal Horse rides high in the saddle.
Tasty, tender tri-colored tidbits tantalize my tongue.
Sipping cool cinnamon lemon infusion so refreshing.
Circles of magenta, yellow, pink; fragrant love given.
Musty, stained from use; flammable, if given an excuse.
Sweating from those emerald bits that singe my tongue.
Lavender scented in steam with lemon wedges, sssssss!
Bright as summer, a ball of fragrant sun kissed sweetness.
Tough fluff stuff faster than a speeding bullet sweet images.
Happy daze in a shiny blue and white can, low carb to boot.
Pea-sized Crest on gnarly bristles, scrubbing my minty molars.
Tattered but hanging together still, good for another sleep at least.
A pair of mirrors that let me look out, but don’t allow anyone to look in.
You can see reflection through it. It tells what you look like from inside.
Chuffs and puffs, whistles and bells, squeaks and squeals, creosote smells.
Sticky sweetness fills my lungs as I sit, on the verge of sneezing, in deep shade.
Lovely brown seed of the gods – valuable like gold – satiates, intoxicates my senses.

Original prompt: Write about something by describing it using your senses, without naming what it is.

Rakhi Shelat, Julianna M. Cruz, Frances J. Vasquez, Frances T. Borella, Debby Johnson , Nan Friedley, Burcu Misirli Chatham, Thomas Vaden, Elizabeth Aamot, Rob McMurray , Rose Y. Monge, Raine Lefaivre-Naggi, John DiFusco, Cati Porter, Kamelyta Noor , Natalie Champion, Gudelia Vaden, Juanita E. Mantz Pelaez, Ginger Galloway, Janine Pourroy Gamblin, Kris Lovekin

Beginnings & Endings

When you and I were Gaia
our love began, and our love
expands eternal—MyOTHER.

My mom is a Prothonotary Warbler
in a nest of soft mosses and leaves,
an Osprey always in deep defense,
and a Least Tern giving me shadow
in the sun or cooling me
with a sponge bath from the ocean.

Mom, you are my best friend
You are so kind and beautiful
You inspire me! I love that
at my age you still call me kid.

My mom is a fighter, a dreamer,
a reader and a dancer. Just like me.
I’m proud of Mom and her keen
sense of humor, as she reaches 100
in January: Keep on going strong!

Mom is the keeper of family recipes
stored loosely in a worn red and white
Better Homes and Gardens cookbook.

s l o w l y aging, I feel you slipping
away. But, when you smile at me
MaMa, I feel like your child again.
Sturdy, practical, careful and devoted
to us always. I hate the thought of losing you.

First Mother’s Day without you;
no lunch at our favorite place,
no cake—everything tastes
of salt and umami anyway.

You have no idea how much
I miss you cussing us out.

Madre mia, you live through
your Dichos, capirotada,
and Cumbia memories.

I look at our children. Still
in awe. The dream came true.
Pieces of me out in the world,
tethered by love, make my heart complete
Becoming a mother I learned why
a craft of popsicle sticks, glue and tempera paint
is a more valuable gift than diamonds.

Devout atheist, with the best skin—
your granddaughter continues
your brilliant refusal of all easy answers.

What a blessing to be a part of five
generations of strong and nurturing
women. Stay tuned for more!

Mom, I love you so much that words
cannot describe. When I am in the cocina,
you guide me from heaven to add
a pinch of this and that and reminding
me to go easy on the red pepper.

Although we are now apart, there is
so much, so much in this world,
I am glad, you cannot know or feel.

Mama, you are the first reason
I love strays and abandoned critters.
I know you deep in my bones,
but you’re still a stranger to me
Even in my darkest night,
you are my guiding light.
Mom, you can still remember
so much with your heart, I will keep
holding your heart with all my might.

Original prompt: Write a line of poetry in honor of Mother’s Day.

Ai Miyamoto Kelley, Stephanie Barbe Hammer, Tom Vaden, Barbara Berg, Natalie Champion, Dar Stone, Julianna Cruz, Robin Longfield, Juanita Mantz, Gudelia Vaden, Cindi Neisinger, Cindy Bousquet Harris, Nan Friedley, Burcu Misirli Chatham, Rose Y. Monge, Kris Lovekin, Debby Johnson, Faith Dincolo, Raine Levaivre-Naggi, Frances T. Borella, Ginger Galloway, Kamelyta Noor, Frances J. Vasquez

All in Day’s Work

Sam woke to the sound of her alarm clock and stood up, stretched, yawned. Summer was her least favorite of the seasons; she longed for cool breezes, but when she looked out the window she knew something was not right. Better get dressed and see what’s going on.… Then flames scorched her windowsill, a dragon’s wings crashing through the air like thunder. The morning air was already steamy hot. No dog barked, no bird sang. It seemed the earth stood still. The sounds of ambulances and glaring lights were too much to bear this morning. Her eyes burning, she searched the red horizon for signs of life, but found only a strange stillness stretched across the melting asphalt. Pools of sweat form under the N95 mask she has worn for the last 12 hours. She longed to be anywhere but here but what could she do? She knew she was trapped! Her eyes caught the fiery dragon’s searching for a soul in the emptiness. Then she heard a voice come seemingly out of nowhere. “Where are my lemons, my sweet limes? Your bite is like sugar to my soul.” It was the dragon! “Hot as hades in the beautiful city of San Francisco I walk to La Loma Produce for lemons, limes, tomatoes and fish that make my day so much brighter…” No breeze, no clouds, no sun, just a thump, thump, in her chest and the sound of her aching breath. “Well, the Farmers Market is that way…?,” said Sam, somewhat confused but also relieved. It was then that she noticed the little girl, staring not at the dragon, but at Sam. “Wait! Are you leaving already?” the little girl cried. “Yes, I need to go. Every day I show up, I make a difference.” She pulled on some clothes, grabbed a supergirl mask and headed downtown to work.

Original prompt: Write one line continuing and building on the line before to creative a story.

Julianna M. Cruz, Dar Stone, Cati Porter, Burcu Misirli Chatham, Nan Friedley, Magdalena Nunez, Natalie Champion, Cindy Bousquet Harris, James Luna, Ginger Galloway, Gudelia Vaden, Kris Lovekin, David Stone, Debby Johnson, Frances T. Borella, Rose Y. Monge

A Recipe for Survival

Mirepoix, because vegetables.
½ cup sanity, julienned on ice

plus one jalapeño to spice it up.
Cubed onion with tears yet no fears!

Garlic is good; we’re socially distant anyway.
Fold in lightly beaten dolphin egg.

Swirl in the sound of small hands, drumming
on an upsidedown plastic bowl.

A dash of pepper, a bit of salt
just a taste of whole gestalt.

Fold in a heaping measure of compassion,
an ample amount of quality bread

flour, kneaded well to make it rise,
and a dash of mother’s love, like a hug.

Dash of dill for daily determination.
Savory rice with a pinch of oregano

and something from the back
of the fridge I can’t quite identify.

A splash of rum will do no harm.
Add fresh mint, growing wild in the backyard.

Dollops of chilli flakes make it vavavooooom!
Calories are out the door; Slather more butter, por favor.

Melted chocolate to grace the top.
A spoonful of sugar to make the recipe go down.

An aromatic candle awaiting to inflame the senses
… and the romance of Javier Solis’ melodic Sabor a Mi.

Original prompt: Write one line that is an “ingredient” in our collective recipe.

by Cindi Neisinger, Shali Nicholas, Cindy Bousquet Harris, Juanita E. Mantz Pelaez, Frances J. Vasquez, Rob McMurray, Kris Lovekin, Frances T. Borella, Debby Johnson, Ai Miyamoto Kelley, Sherre Vernon, Burcu Misirli Chatham, Kamelyta Noor, Rose Y. Monge, Thomas Vaden, Dar Stone, James Luna, Nan Friedley, Elizabeth Faith Aamot, Veronica Ortega, Raine Lefaivre-Naggi, Natalie Champion

A Few Words from Our Friend Will During the COVID-19 Crisis

Embrace the world with arms stretched out, then we shall have
“A Midsummer Night’s Nightmare.” People, resolve to love thy neighbor—
embrace COVID-19 health protocols! I howl with resolve
to embrace this bump and stay well. My mind howls

with the loneliness of it all: Let the body howl; the mind, then, willing!
Thy February face howls for lack of wit. Lonely
scenery ready to embrace. Lonely? Never! I embrace
each peerless moment! Heed the cry, embrace your dreams,

resolve your fate. Bumps in the night are a terrifying reminder.
Pepper is so lonely. He howls at the moon. Just wants
an embrace. I howl at this darkness with resolve,
“you are but a bump on my journey for I am stronger than you.”

With resolve, the lonely wolf let out a howl
until he felt the gentle bump of his mother’s embrace.
I long for your embrace, I’m so lonely, so I resolve
to see you again. Today, we long for that loving embrace.

Original prompt: Pick from words from this list of six words coined by Shakespeare:

Bump
embrace
fixture
howl
lonely
resolve

Frances T. Borella Sharon Sekhon Dar Stone Liz Gonzalez Frances J. Vasquez Julianna M. Cruz Natalie Champion Ginger Galloway Debby Johnson Juanita E. Mantz Pelaez Rose Y. Monge Burcu Misirli Chatham Ai Miyamoto Kelley Barbara Berg Gudelia Vaden

What is True, Love?

Could lose myself forever in you, truth,
if only I could find you.

A confession: my deepest, strangest
love is for the enigma of love itself.

Love is a beautiful battlefield
where I fight for it every day.

Love twinkles as midnight fades,
so you can easily find your way.

Love is watching the sunset, talking
late into the night.

I love my family to the moon
and back.

Kisses in the moonlight, walks
in McLaren park and snuggles in bed.

Listening to music early morning, here
comes the sun.

Love is a rainbow
in the sky after a stormy rainfall.

Love follows the winding roads through
the twists and turns to yield the cold.

Many decades later, nothing has come close
to the endorphin high of my first love.

One thing I miss terribly right now is going out
for pho, that simple yet magical soup.

A Sumptuous Equation:
Family +Friends +”Breaking Bread”=LOVE.

The decadent sweetness of dark chocolate melting
into a puddle of indulgence on my tongue.

Such a wanton, fluffy, mischievous, loyal
companion loved so easily.

Hockey loving, Fortnite playing, Lego building
little dudes give the best hugs.

On May the 4th, love is sitting through an all day
Star Wars marathon and never falling asleep.

All I love, costs nothing—family, friends,
this beautiful, imperfect world.

Original prompt: Write about something you love.

Natalie Champion, Dar Stone, Good Newz, Raine Lefaivre-Naggi, Good Newz, Douglas McCulloh, Nan Friedley, Frances T. Borella, Andrea Jill Fingerson, Rob McMurray, Debby Johnson, Robin Longfield, Juanita E. Mantz Pelaez, Rose Y. Monge, Gudelia Vaden, Burcu Misirli Chatham

Forest Chant

I, elaborate forest, chant
like honey, ask— still the skin

Elaborate petals spring-
luscious, rain-languid, sing
about rust & apparatus

Watch purple honey running
over a lazy day moon

The moon is like honey on
an enormous lazy dream

She rose, delirious and death
singing sweetly. Pink moon petal
on the rock after a lovely rain

Dreaming of a delirious death by milk
chocolate, sweetest sleep

Original prompt: Go to the virtual “Magnetic Poetry” and write a line of poems drawn only from the words there, about ten words.

Ginger Galloway, Barbara Berg, Natalie Champion, Debby Johnson, Nan Friedley, Gudelia Vaden

What Joy

Light seeping through eyelids.
Faint sounds, aromas, spring
bids. Get up and enjoy.

Morning prayer
with vanilla scented coffee.

Scattering blue and violet
capaciousness unfurls me.

Green butterflies flapping
wings. Whirring summer chorus
on grass-scented breeze.

Scented purple spikes, best friend
of the bee, aromatherapy for me.

Fuzzy bodies, tiny wings,
turning pollen into tasty things,
buzzy workers stay away,
my hair needs none of you today.

Dirt beneath my fingernails,
fragrant perfumes tickling
my nose. Ripe fruit from
the vine is an artist’s dream

Rustling palm fronds, the scrape of
leaves, languid air, yearning.
Tiny in stature, up high in the palm tree,
adding to my joy with his amazing song.

Lifting Spirits. Bobbing head.
Moving feet. Air guitar.
A remnant of painter’s tape —
chalky, gummy — stripped
from the refinished hardwood.

Choice cut marinated
in balsamic vinegar, soy sauce,
Dijon mustard, and coffee.

Tiny red spuds boiled and mixed
with ricotta cheese, butter
and pepper. Make my mouth water.

Nuked, multi-colored dots,
brown lava in my mouth.

Flour, sugar, cocoa, butter, heat,
pure joy in the pan, good enough to eat.

Soft fur, tiny padded feet
click, click, click on cool ceramic tiles.
The sound of his snoring
beside me, his soft brown fur,
and caramel colored eyes.

Your voice gives me breath,
your image is like water.
My child, asleep, her breath
against my neck.

The rush of oxytocin when
your arms squeeze me tight
is pure delight.

Original prompt: Write a poem about something that brings you joy.

Kris Lovekin, Gudelia Vaden, Natalie Champion, Frances T. Borella, Juanita E. Mantz Pelaez, Nan Friedley, Thomas Vaden, Sherre Vernon,Debby Johnson, Joseph Milazzo, Dar Stone, Janine Pourroy Gamblin, Julie Fredericksen, Cati Porter, Veronica Ortega, John DiFusco, Ginger Galloway, Cindi Neisinger, Robin Longfield, Burcu Misirli Chatham, Barbara Berg

May Day Mayday!

Mayday! Mayday! The freezer isn’t working,
the printer doesn’t print and the toilet
paper disappeared! HELP!!!!!

Dot dot dot dash dash dash dot dot dot
Who has the key to my front door?
The scientist? The politician? The TV talking head?
Some kid brought my fast food and left it on the porch.
I hope the cook wrapped the vaccine in bacon.

Mayday, mayday! I have all this
dog food, but no dog. Help,
here come the crows! Will they eat it?

Mayday, mayday! I can’t
find my coffee cup so
the windows won’t open. Help!

Help I need somebody! The Beatles screamed
I screamed back decades later
All you need is love.

Mayday, mayday! My mental heath
is a mess. Friends? Wine? Yes!

Princess Tabitha sound asleep in her crate
She looks so innocent but don’t be fooled
She’s a tiger in disguise. Mayday!

Mayday! Mayday! The purple
leprechauns replaced my brain
with tater tots to negotiate with
the alien Elvis impersonators
for the return of their missing left socks.

Not a nibble of chocolate in sight.
“Dire consequences,” gurgled the washer
as it devoured all the socks.

Wear Mork & Mindy face masks
and My Favorite Martian gloves.

Binge-watching the TV,
Read all my books
Pulled all the weeds
Cleaned crannies and nooks
Planted the garden
Washed the dog, even clipped it
Still can’t go shopping
Still haven’t whipped it
Waxed all the floors
Cleaned out the closet
“Tidy” doesn’t fit me
It’s the virus that caused it
Mayday, Save me, Mayday.

Mayday! Mayday! Feeling
too comfy inside, forgetting
how it was to live outside!

Mayday, come and help me! The carpet
under my feet is not grassy enough,
the wood floors not like dirt, my tendrils
are reaching for oranges and flowers,
my roots still waiting for water from the clouds.

Mayday! Mayday! All the chickens are gone!
All the chilies are gone! All the garlic is gone!
OK. I don’t need the toilet paper after all.

Original prompt: Write a poem about May Day, mayday mayday!

Barbara Berg, Natalie Champion, Kamelyta Noor, Kris Lovekin, James Luna, Burcu Misirli Chatham, Juanita E. Mantz Pelaez, Cati Porter, Dar Stone, Raine Lefaivre-Naggi, Tom Vaden, Debby Johnson, Gudelia Vaden, Cindy Bousquet Harris