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Smith Magazine’s Six-word Memoir Project (as heard on NPR)…and now…Story Circle Network Podcast
Six-word memoir was hot this year. And, it’s fun as well. Some time back I phoned in my 6-word memoir: Country girl roamed. Home grazing sweetest. and my 6-word description of “Sightlines: A Poet’s Diary” A downhome family lovestory beyond death. for the May Story Circle Network Podcast. Frankly, I’d forgotten all about it. Then,…
“The Apple Factory,” a poem by Arletta Dawdy–1914 Sharp turns in Russia and China…apples, war, and rivers.
Remember Arletta Dawdy’s poem “Clara’s Air” posted May 12, 13 and 14 in three parts? Here she is again with “The Apple Factory” which grew out of a conversation in the 1970s with an elderly neighbor as they stood in her kitchen window looking out on the apple orchard that backed both their homes. Both…
“Waiting (Wind of Change),” a poem by Janet Grace Riehl
In just a few days I’m making a huge move in my life and where I live. I’ll be moving from Lake County in Northern California to St. Louis, Missouri where I’ll just be an hour away from my father. Pop, 91, lives just across the river in SW Illinois, about 6 miles upriver from…
The Story Behind Erwin A. Thompson’s Poem “Our Heritage”
Today I’m part of an invited poetry reading for the Land Trust in Lake County up here in Northern California. We’ll read at Rodman Slough. One of the poems I’ll read will be one of my favorites, and one I consider to be my father’s most powerful. Here are my father’s comments on his poem–It…
Water Ceremonies, India: Rishikesh & Hardwar (part I) a poem by Janet Grace Riehl
I. India Rishikesh Strolling on the banks of the Ganges Sacred gravel crunches underfoot. A sadhu* stretches boldly over high drop-off to collect holy water in just-cleaned leather pouch. I finger the rushing stream just delivered from melting mountains. Then, pull out my finger, fast. Frozen hot pink, finger drips a blessing to forehead, throat,…
“I Remember”–the woman & her husband’s perspective
I REMEMBER The Woman Remembers I remember, as a child, longing for summer and sunshine during the coldest months of the year. I sometimes doubted that winter would ever end. I remember the heat of the sun. My skin blistered. I remember kissing Don in the back seat, and our guilty touches. I remember the…