Poem of the Week: Forever By My Side
NLAPW, NLAPW Poem of the Week
Anne Marie Vale, Ph. D., Sarasota Branch My mom, Rita, was born in 1920. Money was scarce and troubles were plenty. But her faith was strong and her spirit ... Read more
Poem of the Week: New Cut in the Woods
NLAPW, NLAPW Poem of the Week
Martha Steger, Lifetime Member-at-Large, Richmond, Virginia Imagine an unattended baby-seat strapped to a tree for thrush-eggs’ nourishment but sabotaged by cowbirds’ sinister deposits in this tiny home held together by spiders’ webs ... Read more
Poem of the Week: After reading “After”
NLAPW, NLAPW Poem of the Week
After reading “After” by Octavio Paz Diane McDonough, Cape Cod Branch After telling myself no day after day, the way mother did when asked if I could do ... Read more
Flash Fiction “Non-musical anthem”
NLAPW, NLAPW Poem of the Week
Non-musical Anthem A proactive member of the human community, each day for me is testimony to renewal, commitment and recovery. As the fertile earth awaits new growth, my journey anticipates ... Read more
Poem of the Week–Cream
NLAPW, NLAPW Poem of the Week
Cream My mother stands in the kitchen pouring cream over sliced bananas, cream skimmed from the top of a milk bottle delivered that morning, her flowered housedress hangs loose on ... Read more
Flash Fiction–Paradox
flash fiction, NLAPW
Paradox On a day when divorce was distinctly possible, she threw up, went to work, then to her son’s baseball game. For one moment, breeze, sun, voices combined and something ... Read more
Flash Fiction–Too Fat to Fit
flash fiction, NLAPW
Too Fat to Fit We drove 300 miles to the Iowa State Fair–Ian, Leo and me. Planned to stay with Sis, so we did. Next day we walked. Ate things ... Read more
Flash Fiction–The Ring
flash fiction, NLAPW
The Ring Traffic whizzed by; she waited at the café table. Running her fingers through her gray hair, she recalled. “You’re so beautiful,” Angelo had said, frowning. “Why do you ... Read more
Flash Fiction: Ester
flash fiction, NLAPW
Ester My mother died when I was thirteen years old. Never mind that my father died the same day-he shot her twelve times and then turned the gun on himself. ... Read more
A conversation with two collaborators
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Why be a Pen Woman? This conversation with two Iowa Pen Women who wrote Mary & Me: A Lasting Link Through Ink together, says it all! The length of the ... Read more