Writing In A Woman's Voice

Happy full moon! Today's Moon Prize , the sixty-fourth, goes to Joan Colby's poem " Dia de los Muertos ."  DI A DE LOS M...

‘those’ kind of girls by Emalisa Rose Janie was wayward.. butter blonde hair playing tease with the wind...long slender cigarette fond...

No, I Don’t Want to Hold Your Baby by Jean Ryan One drunken night in college, in a dorm bed with my boyfriend, I was seized with an outr...

Suitcase Full of Ordinary by Joan Leotta In the attic of my mind, amid the detritus of childhood, sits a suitcase full of ordinary mom...

November wonder by Mary Wescott Riser Where two closed gates meet at the end of the road beyond the Cedar Grove Baptist Church, all ...

High Noon by Cynthia Anderson The poet exits the building in the middle of a reading, leaves her papers at the podium to heed the ca...

Bone Mother by Cynthia Anderson She dwells in the seat of the sacred, building the framework that lets you move through this world— ...