Friday, July 3, 2020

Guest Blog Post by Writer Stephanie Menendez "Black American Girl"


*The images in this specific piece are granted copyright privilege by:  Public Domain, CCSAL, GNU Free Documentation Licenses, Fair Use Under The United States Copyright Law, or given copyright privilege by the copyright holder which is identified beneath the individual photo.

**Some of the links will have to be copied and then posted in your search engine in order to pull up properly


Guest Blog Post by Writer Stephanie Menendez
“Black American Girl”

Until I was old enough to understand, I hated my naturally red tinted hair that casted off ember ringlets in the sun. I hated it as much as my fair black skin because others hated it. I hated my hair until age thirteen when my aunt put chemicals in my hair to straighten it and it fell out. When it grew back, it was darker and coarser. Only then did I appreciate having hair regardless of color and texture. 
     My coffee skin had too much cream to be considered to be black enough by some black people but not light enough to pass for white. The tight curl pattern of my hair did not pass the white test. Children of interracial relationships were frowned upon and treated worse in the 70’s. Though my parents are black, uneducated people did not fathom the genetic possibilities that I was and will always be black not mixed, biracial or albino just simply light-skinned.
 When I was seven-year-old, I had two friends named Maria and Angela. Maria was a white girl who lived in the trailer park. Her hair always looked like it never got washed. Her skin was so dirty at times that she compared her skin to mine. Maria and her family were outcasts. Black and white people often hissed and said negative things about them. They were often called trailer trash and pissed-poor. I shared my lunch with Maria when she didn’t bring lunch and we played together whenever I chose not to jump double-dutch. Maria missed two to three days of school every week so my time was easily split between her and Angela. Angela had the perfect brown skin. Her hair was long and straight without chemicals. Her ponytails bounced and fell as she jumped between the two ropes. Angela and I were always double-dutch partners and we were good. 
     One day, we were challenged to a double-dutch tournament to prove that we were the best. Maria had been absent from school all week but returned on the day of the challenge. I told her that I could not play with her. She ran away crying and told her older sister. Her tall lanky sister from the sixth grade came and grabbed my arm while I was waiting for my turn to jump in the ropes. She spat words in my face but “nigger” was the word that turned my face red and stopped the ropes from turning. Angela’s sister was there in a flash and pushed the other older girl. I watched as the pushing escalated until Maria was accidentally knocked to the ground and screamed. I ran to her as blood dripped from her elbow.      

     I looked up and both older girls stared down at me like I was a common enemy. “It’s time for you to decide if you want to be black or white,” Angela’s sister said. I stared up at the crowd before standing slowly and backing away from Maria. I lost both friends that day as I walked to the swings and sat alone. 
     Every day, for weeks I sat alone on the swing until some boys came over and ask if I knew how to play basketball. They needed another player and they didn’t care about my skin. It didn’t matter that I was a girl as long as I could play ball. For four years, boys were my only friends. My brother and his friends became my friends. My family thought I couldn’t make friends. I never told them what happened with my friends at school and no one asked. For years into my adulthood, I avoided race-relations and tensions. I could feel it coming. I could see a potential race issue before it surfaced and if possible, left the situation or braced for the fallout.
When I was seventeen, I walked to work at a rehab facility for institutionalized teens with severe and profound mental and physical disabilities. The job paid significantly below minimum wage at three dollars an hour. Residents and staff were black, brown and white and everyone got along. I felt comfortable there but walking the three blocks to get there in a predominantly white neighborhood had challenges. I walked with my head down but always alert. There were no sidewalks but people did not want you walking on their lawns. Cars zoomed by with enough wind speed to make me sway. I took chances of running onto lawns to avoid being splashed by puddles.
     On one section of the street, a guardrail blocked cars from driving off the road into a deep ditch. I increased my walking speed to get passed it before the next car would come flying by. Then, the day came when I heard a speeding a car and yelling from the open car windows. My racial radar warned me of upcoming trouble. I ran as fast I could to get pass the guardrail and safely onto a lawn. I just made it when a red Impala sped pass, a confederate flag waving out the window, and white men yelling “pretty nigger girl.” The car stopped and drove in reverse. 
     
     Back in the 80’s people cared very little about women getting raped, even less if you were a black woman. When the car stopped and the three men jumped out of the car, there was not a second to wait. I ran through the forbidden lawns. I cut through yards that could have gotten me shot for trespassing. Just when I thought they were going to catch me at the fence I knew I couldn’t climb fast enough, an older white man yelled at them, “Leave that nigger girl alone.” The men spat tobacco before returning to their car. I was grateful to the old man and told him thank you. He responded by telling me to get off his lawn and go back to where I came from. My teeth chattered as I walked back to the street and thankfully, the men were gone. I went to work and told no one what happened. 
     Black, brown and white people didn’t care what happened to black people who were not black enough. I learned that at age seven and I experienced it throughout my young life. I had been called a half-breed by a white police officer at age twelve who asked me if my momma was a white nigger-lover while I waited at a bus stop with a young white man who thought I was worthy to have a conversation about weather and school. The young man’s face turned red. He avoided talking to me the following week as we waited for the same bus. I had not committed a crime. 
     I was waiting for a bus to take me to school when I had my first encounter with the police. As a young woman, I would never call them for help. I heard stories. Besides, being called a half-breed and your mother a nigger-lover, one would assume that the police only protected and served white people. As a black American girl, I was shaped and molded by the interaction from black and white people, civilians and one police officer. I don’t believe police officers are bad. I believe there are bad people and some bad people have become bad police officers. Not all racists are white. Some racists are black and dislike other black people because they have a different shade of black skin. 
     I don’t identify myself as an African American. I identify as Black American. I am not denouncing my African heritage or the enslavement of my ancestors. I am simply acknowledging that I don’t have any other African connection other than my skin. According to my brother’s ancestry DNA results, I have other nationalities in my breeding as well but I don’t identify as being white, Irish or Scottish. I am black in skin, culturally black and born in America. I am a Black American girl who became a Black American woman.

Stephanie Menendez has published work, Zombie Hand in Splickety Havok Magazine October 2015 edition. She is an active member in writing groups, Scribes for Praise in O’Fallon, IL and Plethora of Pens in Glen Carbon, IL. 

Thursday, July 2, 2020

Victor Enns’s “Torpor” is #184 in the never-ending series called BACKSTORY OF THE POEM


*The images in this specific piece are granted copyright privilege by:  Public Domain, CCSAL, GNU Free Documentation Licenses, Fair Use Under The United States Copyright Law, or given copyright privilege by the copyright holder which is identified beneath the individual photo.

**Some of the links will have to be copied and then posted in your search engine in order to pull up properly

*** The CRC Blog welcomes submissions from published and unpublished poets for BACKSTORY OF THE POEM series.  Contact CRC Blog via email at caccoop@aol.com or personal Facebook messaging at https://www.facebook.com/car.cooper.7

***Victor Enns’s “Torpor” is #184 in the never-ending series called BACKSTORY OF THE POEM where the Chris Rice Cooper Blog (CRC) focuses on one specific poem and how the poet wrote that specific poem.  All BACKSTORY OF THE POEM links are at the end of this piece. 

Can you go through the step-by-step process of writing this poem from the moment the idea was first conceived in your brain until final form? 
I started writing this poem in 2017 I was experiencing a lot of arthritic pain, and needed to lie still on my back for hours on end. Even with the help of pain medication. Because of my arthritic hands I have started to dictate my notes for starters. I have been typing my poems pretty much since I started writing poetry and my teens. 
     I was raised as a preacher’s kid, I know Bible stories. The idea of Lazarus getting up to walk came to me and came into the poem providing an ending. 
     
     One of my ankle surgeries failed, and I made the decision to have an amputation below the left knee. I had written the part of the poem about the Hoyer before I got into the hospital. It was one of those marvelous coincidences when I was in rehab, I didn’t need the use of a Hoyer but the paraplegic across from me did so I got to see how they use the Hoyer in the hospital. I had it right pretty much, and that gave me the energy to finish the rest of the poem after I returned from rehab having learned to use my new prosthetic.

Where were you when you started to actually write the poem?  And please describe the place in great detail. I was in my own bed when I started the poem. I was in the hospital bed when I made more notes for my rehab visit, and then the final version I would’ve actually finished at my desk. I have a one-bedroom apartment and I have turned the living room space into my writing studio.

How many drafts of this poem did you write before going to the final? I compose all my poetry on my iPad or my MacBook air. I don’t keep track of the many different versions I write. Is hardly ever less than five or six drafts before the final one

Were there any lines in any of your rough drafts of this poem that were not in the final version? I don’t keep those kinds of records.
What do you want readers of this poem to take from this poem? While every reader brings their own stuff to a poem, making each poem new again, I do hope readers can understand including other disabled people, that it’s okay to have hopes and wishes.  That’s what writings all about.
Which part of the poem was the most emotional of you to write and why?  “Let me get up and walk. I’m giving you the best Lazarus I can.” I think the lines are in response to my trepidation at my oncoming amputation. 
     Wouldn’t it be nice if there was a presto change oh and I could just get up and walk around again. The truth is that with the prosthetic I have I can get up and walk. Not quite the way I used to, but I can still walk a block for an ice cream, using only my cane.

Has this poem been published before?  And if so where?
Yes, this poem was published in my latest collection called Love & Surgery in 2019.

Anything you would like to add? “Torpor” is one of the few poems that came to me title first. It's one of those words that just surfaced in my consciousness, as an apt description of my state of mind. I wasn't even sure exactly what it meant so I looked it up. It means torpor: a state of physical or mental inactivity; lethargy. 


TORPOR

Hours of near unconsciousness, a knock down so heavy
I cannot get up on my knees to pray or weed my pernicious
bag of dirt brain irrigated by pharmaceuticals I crack
out of my blister-pack, slap into my mouth by the handful
hardly keep my eyes open, neither hallucinations to see
or delusions that I am anyone other than I am, this sick sack
of shit and grinding bones, breath and pain the only things
moving. The bullish men lift me still and slack in the Hoyer,
swaying, suspended with nowhere to take me or put me down,
the bleached sheets the only thing to change underneath
my carcass, the nurses hands noncommittal as they lay
me down, warts and all.  Jesus where are you,
I’m giving you the best Lazarus I’ve got.
Let me stand up walk. 

   Biography of Victor Enns: “I was born in Winnipeg in 1955, raised in Gretna, Manitoba, and graduated from the University of Manitoba in 1979 with a History/English major 
An advanced creative writing workshop with Robert Kroetsch led to the publication of my first collection, Jimmy Bang Poems (Turnstone 1979).
A co-founder of the Manitoba Writers’ Guild in 1981, I moved to Regina in 1982 to accept the position of the Executive Director at the Saskatchewan Writers’ Guild and to found Windscript magazine, publishing the literary and visual art of Saskatchewan high school students.
     My next bookCorrect in this Culture (5th House) was published in 1985. I was recruited by Ken Kramer in 1988 as the General Manager of the Globe Theatre in Regina to manage their conversion from a founder’s run organization to one responsible to a public Board of Directors.
I spent the next decade in arts administration, including four years as the Executive Director of the Manitoba Arts Council. While recovering from a serious episode of clinical depression, which cost me my job, and helped by my brother, Garry, president of the Mennonite Literary Society, I founded Rhubarb magazine in 1998. Forty-two issues were published by the Society until 2018, sustained by volunteers, donors and subscribers.
     Recovery aided by talk therapy and medication helped me to return to arts management and productivity as a writer, publishing Lucky Man (Hagios 2005),  boy (Hagios 2012) and Afghanistan Confessions (2014)written after my visit to Kabul in May 2008, and subsequent interviews with Canadian veterans back in Winnipeg. Hagios published this collection in November 2014.
In 2015 Jimmy Bang rose from the ashes in the form of an angry old man playing the blues. This manuscript The Complete Jimmy Bang Poems is looking for a publisher, while serialized here.
I married Lynn Chalmers in 2007, and have three biological and two step-children, all successfully launched. Five grandchildren are a delight. Lynn and I separated and then divorced 2017.
My struggles have become more physical since 2010, with seven osteo surgeries since 2012, and more ahead. Hello arthritis and so long pain-free days. Details are recounted in “Old Bones and New Normals” on this website.
I am currently at work on a fiction project called Boundary Creek, whose premise is one of the Patreon Pages on my site.
My new poetry collection renamed Love & Surgery was published by Radiant Press (Regina) in fall 2019.”
https://www.facebook.com/victor.enns

BACKSTORY OF THE POEM LINKS

001  December 29, 2017
Margo Berdeshevksy’s “12-24”

002  January 08, 2018
Alexis Rhone Fancher’s “82 Miles From the Beach, We Order The Lobster At Clear Lake Café”

003 January 12, 2018
Barbara Crooker’s “Orange”

004 January 22, 2018
Sonia Saikaley’s “Modern Matsushima”

005 January 29, 2018
Ellen Foos’s “Side Yard”

006 February 03, 2018
Susan Sundwall’s “The Ringmaster”

007 February 09, 2018
Leslea Newman’s “That Night”

008 February 17, 2018
Alexis Rhone Fancher “June Fairchild Isn’t Dead”

009 February 24, 2018
Charles Clifford Brooks III “The Gift of the Year With Granny”

010 March 03, 2018
Scott Thomas Outlar’s “The Natural Reflection of Your Palms”

011 March 10, 2018
Anya Francesca Jenkins’s “After Diane Beatty’s Photograph “History Abandoned”

012  March 17, 2018
Angela Narciso Torres’s “What I Learned This Week”

013 March 24, 2018
Jan Steckel’s “Holiday On ICE”

014 March 31, 2018
Ibrahim Honjo’s “Colors”

015 April 14, 2018
Marilyn Kallett’s “Ode to Disappointment”

016  April 27, 2018
Beth Copeland’s “Reliquary”

017  May 12, 2018
Marlon L Fick’s “The Swallows of Barcelona”

018  May 25, 2018
Juliet Cook’s “ARTERIAL DISCOMBOBULATION”

019  June 09, 2018
Alexis Rhone Fancher’s “Stiletto Killer. . . A Surmise”

020 June 16, 2018
Charles Rammelkamp’s “At Last I Can Start Suffering”

021  July 05, 2018
Marla Shaw O’Neill’s “Wind Chimes”

022 July 13, 2018
Julia Gordon-Bramer’s “Studying Ariel”

023 July 20, 2018
Bill Yarrow’s “Jesus Zombie”

024  July 27, 2018
Telaina Eriksen’s “Brag 2016”

025  August 01, 2018
Seth Berg’s “It is only Yourself that Bends – so Wake up!”

026  August 07, 2018
David Herrle’s “Devil In the Details”

027  August 13, 2018
Gloria Mindock’s “Carmen Polo, Lady Necklaces, 2017”

028  August 21, 2018
Connie Post’s “Two Deaths”

029  August 30, 2018
Mary Harwell Sayler’s “Faces in a Crowd”

030 September 16, 2018
Larry Jaffe’s “The Risking Point”

031  September 24, 2018
Mark Lee Webb’s “After We Drove”

032  October 04, 2018
Melissa Studdard’s “Astral”

033 October 13, 2018
Robert Craven’s “I Have A Bass Guitar Called Vanessa”

034  October 17, 2018
David Sullivan’s “Paper Mache Peaches of Heaven”

035 October 23, 2018
Timothy Gager’s “Sobriety”

036  October 30, 2018
Gary Glauber’s “The Second Breakfast”

037  November 04, 2018
Heather Forbes-McKeon’s “Melania’s Deaf Tone Jacket”

038 November 11, 2018
Andrena Zawinski’s “Women of the Fields”

039  November 00, 2018
Gordon Hilger’s “Poe”

040 November 16, 2018
Rita Quillen’s “My Children Question Me About Poetry” and “Deathbed Dreams”

041 November 20, 2018
Jonathan Kevin Rice’s “Dog Sitting”

042 November 22, 2018
Haroldo Barbosa Filho’s “Mountain”

043  November 27, 2018
Megan Merchant’s “Grief Flowers”

044 November 30, 2018
Jonathan P Taylor’s “This poem is too neat”

045  December 03, 2018
Ian Haight’s “Sungmyo for our Dead Father-in-Law”

046 December 06, 2018
Nancy Dafoe’s “Poem in the Throat”

047 December 11, 2018
Jeffrey Pearson’s “Memorial Day”

048  December 14, 2018
Frank Paino’s “Laika”

049  December 15, 2018
Jennifer Martelli’s “Anniversary”

O50  December 19, 2018
Joseph Ross’s For Gilberto Ramos, 15, Who Died in the Texas Desert, June 2014”

051 December 23, 2018
“The Persistence of Music”
by Anatoly Molotkov

052  December 27, 2018
“Under Surveillance”
by Michael Farry

053  December 28, 2018
“Grand Finale”
by Renuka Raghavan

054  December 29, 2018
“Aftermath”
by Gene Barry

055 January 2, 2019
“&”
by Larissa Shmailo

056  January 7, 2019
“The Seamstress:
by Len Kuntz

057  January 10, 2019
"Natural History"
by Camille T Dungy

058  January 11, 2019
“BLOCKADE”
by Brian Burmeister

059  January 12, 2019
“Lost”
by Clint Margrave

060 January 14, 2019
“Menopause”
by Pat Durmon

061 January 19, 2019
“Neptune’s Choir”
by Linda Imbler

062  January 22, 2019
“Views From the Driveway”
by Amy Barone

063  January 25, 2019
“The heron leaves her haunts in the marsh”
by Gail Wronsky

064  January 30, 2019
“Shiprock”
by Terry Lucas

065 February 02, 2019
“Summer 1970, The University of Virginia Opens to Women in the Fall”
by Alarie Tennille

066 February 05, 2019
“At School They Learn Nouns”
by Patrick Bizzaro

067  February 06, 2019
“I Must Not Breathe”
by Angela Jackson-Brown

068 February 11, 2019
“Lunch on City Island, Early June”
by Christine Potter

069 February 12, 2019
“Singing”
by Andrew McFadyen-Ketchum

070 February 14, 2019
“Daily Commute”
by Christopher P. Locke

071 February 18, 2019
“How Silent The Trees”
by Wyn Cooper

072 February 20, 2019
“A New Psalm of Montreal”
by Sheenagh Pugh

073 February 23, 2019
“Make Me A Butterfly”
by Amy Barbera

074 February 26, 2019
“Anthem”
by Sandy Coomer

075 March 4, 2019
“Shape of a Violin”
by Kelly Powell

076 March 5, 2019
“Inward Oracle”
by J.P. Dancing Bear

077 March 7, 2019
“I Broke My Bust Of Jesus”
by Susan Sundwall

078 March 9, 2019
“My Mother at 19”
by John Guzlowski

079 March 10, 2019
“Paddling”
by Chera Hammons Miller

080 March 12, 2019
“Of Water and Echo”
by Gillian Cummings

081   082   083    March 14, 2019
“Little Political Sense”   “Crossing Kansas with Jim
Morrison”  “The Land of Sky and Blue Waters”
by Dr. Lindsey Martin-Bowen

084 March 15, 2019
“A Tune To Remember”
by Anna Evans

085 March 19, 2019
“At the End of Time (Wish You Were Here)
by Jeannine Hall Gailey

086 March 20, 2019
“Garden of Gethsemane”
by Marletta Hemphill

087 March 21, 2019
“Letters From a War”
by Chelsea Dingman

088 March 26, 2019
“HAT”
by Bob Heman

089 March 27, 2019
“Clay for the Potter”
by Belinda Bourgeois

#090 March 30, 2019
“The Pose”
by John Hicks

#091 April 2, 2019
“Last Night at the Wursthaus”
by Doug Holder

#092 April 4, 2019
“Original Sin”
by Diane Lockward

#093 April 5, 2019
“A Father Calls to his child on liveleak”
by Stephen Byrne

#094 April 8, 2019
“XX”
by Marc Zegans

#095 April 12, 2019
“Landscape and Still Life”
by Marjorie Maddox

#096 April 16, 2019
“Strawberries Have Been Growing Here for Hundreds of
Years”
by Mary Ellen Lough

#097 April 17, 2019
“The New Science of Slippery Surfaces”
by Donna Spruijt-Metz

#098 April 19, 2019
“Tennessee Epithalamium”
by Alyse Knorr

#099 April 20, 2019
“Mermaid, 1969”
by Tameca L. Coleman

#100 April 21, 2019
“How Do You Know?”
by Stephanie

#101 April 23, 2019
“Rare Book and Reader”
by Ned Balbo

#102 April 26, 2019
“THUNDER”
by Jefferson Carter

#103 May 01, 2019
“The sight of a million angels”
by Jenneth Graser

#104 May 09, 2019
“How to tell my dog I’m dying”
by Richard Fox

#105 May 17, 2019
“Promises Had Been Made”
by Sarah Sarai

#106 June 01, 2019
“i sold your car today”
by Pamela Twining

#107 June 02, 2019
“Abandoned Stable”
by Nancy Susanna Breen

#108 June 05, 2019
“Cupcake”
by Julene Tripp Weaver

#109 June 6, 2019
“Bobby’s Story”
by Jimmy Pappas

#110 June 10, 2019
“When You Ask Me to Tell You About My Father”
by Pauletta Hansel

#111 Backstory of the Poem’s
“Cemetery Mailbox”
by Jennifer Horne

#112 Backstory of the Poem’s
“Relics”
by Kate Peper

#113 Backstory of the Poem’s
“Q”
by Jennifer Johnson

#114 Backstory of the Poem’s
“Brushing My Hair”
by Tammika Dorsey Jones

#115 Backstory of the Poem
“Because the Birds Will Survive, Too”
by Katherine Riegel

#116 Backstory of the Poem
“DIVORCE”
by Joan Barasovska

#117 Backstory of the Poem
“NEW YEAR”S EVE 2016”
by Michael Meyerhofer

#118 Backstory of the Poem
“Dear the estranged,”
by Gina Tron

#119 Backstory of the Poem
“In Remembrance of Them”
by Janet Renee Cryer

#120 Backstory of the Poem
“Horse Fly Grade Card, Doesn’t Play Well With Others”
by David L. Harrison

#121 Backstory of the Poem
“My Mother’s Cookbook”
by Rachael Ikins

#122 Backstory of the Poem
“Cousins I Never Met”
by Maureen Kadish Sherbondy

#123 Backstory of the Poem
“To Those Who Were Our First Gods”
by Nickole Brown

#124 Backstory of the Poem
“Looking For Sunsets (In the Early Morning)”
by Paul Levinson

#125 Backstory of the Poem
“Tracy”
by Tiff Holland

#126 Backstory of the Poem
“Legs”
by Cindy Hochman

#127 Backstory of the Poem
“Anathema”
by Natasha Saje

#128 Backstory of the Poem
“How to Explain Fertility When an Acquaintance Asks Casually”
by Allison Blevins

#129 Backstory of the Poem
“The Art of Meditation In Tennessee”
by Linda Parsons

#130 Backstory of the Poem
“Schooling High, In Beslan”
by Satabdi Saha

#131 Backstory of the Poem
“Baby Jacob survives the Oso Landslide, 2014”
by Amie Zimmerman

#132 Backstory of the Poem
“Our Age of Anxiety”
by Henry Israeli

#133 Backstory of the Poem
“Earth Cries; Heaven Smiles”
by Ken Allan Dronsfield

#134  Backstory of the Poem
“Eons”
by Janine Canan

#135 Backstory of the Poem
“Sworn”
by Catherine Zickgraf

#136 Backstory of the Poem
“Bushwick Blue”
by Susana H. Case

#137 Backstory of the Poem
“Then She Was Forever”
by Paula Persoleo

#138 Backstory of the Poem
“Enough”
by Kris Bigalk

#139 Backstory of the Poem
“From Ghosts of the Upper Floor”
by Tony Trigilio

#140 Backstory of the Poem
“Cloud Audience”
by Wanita Zumbrunnen

#141 Backstory of the Poem
“Condition Center”
by Matthew Freeman

#142 Backstory of the Poem
“Adventuresome Woman”
by Cheryl Suchors

#143 Backstory of the Poem
“The Way Back”
by Robert Walicki

#144 Backstory of the Poem
“If I Had Three Lives”
by Sarah Russell

#145 Backstory of the Poem
“Reservoir”
by Andrea Rexilius

#146 Backstory of the Poem
“The Night Before Our Dog Died”
by Melissa Fite Johnson

#147 Backstory of the Poem
“Pileated”
by David Anthony Sam

#148 Backstory of the Poem
“A Kitchen Argument”
by Matthew Gwathmey

#149 Backstory of the Poem
“Insulation”
by Bruce Kauffman

#150 Backstory of the Poem
“I Will Tell You Where I’ve Been”
by Justin Hamm

#151 Backstory of the Poem
“Comfort”
by Michael A Griffith

#152 Backstory of the Poem
“VAN GOGH TO HIS MISTRESS”
by Margo Taft Stever


#153 Backstory of the Poem
“1. Girl”
by Margaret Manuel

#154 Backstory of the Poem
“Trading Places”
by Maria Chisolm

#155 Backstory of the Poem
“The Reoccurring Woman”
by Debra May

#156 Backstory of the Poem
“Word Falling”
by Sheryl St. Germain

#157 Backstory of the Poem
“Vel’ d’Hiv Roundup of 7,000 Jews Detained in an
Arena”
by Liz Marlow

#158 Backstory of the Poem
“Why Otters Hold Hands”
by William Walsh

#159 Backstory of the Poem
“The Invisible World”
by Rocco de Giacoma

#160 Backstory of the Poem
“Last Call”
by Ralph Culver

#161 Backstory of the Poem
“ALIVE”
by David Dephy

#162 Backstory of the Poem
“Mare Nostrum”
by Janice D Soderling

#163 Backstory of the Poem
“Winnipeg Noir”
by Carmelo Militano

#164 Backstory of the Poem
“Needlepoint Roses”
by Jason O’Toole

#165 Backstory of the Poem
“Singing, Studying on Whiteness, This Penelope Strings”
by Jeanne Larsen

#166 Backstory of the Poem
“How To Befriend Uncertainty”
by Prartho Sereno

#167 Backstory of the Poem
“Shostakovich: Five Pieces”
by Pamela Uschuk

#168 Backstory of the Poem
“Bouquet for Amy Clampitt”
by Peter Kline

#169 Backstory of the Poem
“Heartbroken”
by Catherine Arra

#170 Backstory of the Poem
“Silence – a lost art”
by Megha Sood

#171 Backstory of the Poem/ May 09, 2020
“Horribly Dull”
by Mark DeCharmes

#172 Backstory of the Poem/ May 12, 2020
“Celebrating His Ninety-Second Birthday the Year his Wife Died”
by Michael Mark

#173 Backstory of the Poem/ May 14, 2020
“Night Clouds in the Black Hills”
by Cameron Morse

#174 Backstory of the Poem/ May 18, 2020
“I’ve Been In Heaven For Long”
by Evanesced Dethroned Angel

#175 Backstory of the Poem/ May 20, 2020
“Tutti-Frutti”
by Barbara Crooker

#176 and #177 Backstory of the Poem/ May 25, 2020
“My Small World” and
“My Mistake”
by Tina Barry

#178 Backstory of the Poem/ June 05, 2020
“Against Numbers”
by Andrea Potos

#179 Backstory of the Poem/ June 15, 2020
“Wish”
by Julie Weiss

#180 Backstory of the Poem/ June 20, 2020
“The Tree That Stood Beside Me”
by Carly My Loper

#181 Backstory of the Poem/ June 23, 2020
“Electric Mail”
by Julie E. Bloemeke

#182 Backstory of the Poem
June 24, 2020
“Her First Ten Days”
by Julieta Corpus

#183 Backstory of the Poem
June 26, 2020
“Outside My House Is A Guava Tree”
by Dr. Ampat Varghese Koshy

#184 Backstory of the Poem
July 2, 2020
“Tropor”
by Victor Enns