The women of my grandmother’s line are cloaked in polished oak. Their nipples bare, silk of budding blooms. I know…
Browsing: poetry
My Nephew’s teeth are straight like swans in a row better than ducks pretty target for foe I worry about…
My mother died last May. She lived to sew her own designs dressed her only daughter like a baby doll…
My daughter has blossomed into a beautiful butterfly, She has learned to stop and smell the roses while avoiding bee…
Sometimes I raise my hand to brush the curl from the left side of my face but it is only…
“It’s Time”… Perhaps the phrase You whispered in my Father’s ear When you were Ready to conceive me. “It’s Time”…
You sat on the table at Sears, your dress of baby pink frilling around your feet; your hair with ribbons…
To Mom She slouches in the chair whose alarm will screech when she gets up. “What is this?” she shouts…
No matter when you’re born you will be whipped in the sand storm of seismic colonies colliding by their dividing…
Poems Curated by J.P. Howard We are women writers, many of us are members of Women Writers in…