Natalia Corres

by Shelley Evans

  moon
 beams so bright
 pierce the dark night
 shine their laser light
 along the way for
 soon
  
  
  
 day
 breaks into dawn
 the sunrise a beacon
 a welcome aurorean
 illuminates a sure
 way 

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  DOG  LOVE
  
                 Dog lies at the feet
                 of the ones for whom he lives.
                 Love connects their souls.
  
  
  
  
 WILDFLOWERS  DANCING
  
                 Wildflowers blooming,
                 dancing in a gentle breeze ~
                 colors of the spring. 

---

Named after poet Percy Shelley, nature inspires Shelley’s poetry.  Several of her poems appear in chapbooks and anthologies, and her debut book was published in 2020.  Shelley is a wife, mother of 3 grown girls, dog mom, legal secretary, member of WOK and Parkside Church.  Rhyming is breathing to Shelley.

by Portia Choi

 You were our uncle, since your sister was our mother. 
      But you were more like an older brother, just four years older than me.
      We called you “uncle”, and you would smile, knowing of our affection for you.  
  
 I remember how you listened to me, as a teenager, mostly about boys.  
      You were always so kind to me, since I was the youngest when you visited us
      as children in Korea.    
  
 When you died suddenly a month ago, I did not cry.  Such a surprise.  
      I felt mostly for your wife of fifty years; we are about the same age.  
      I felt for her, a life now without you;  
      someone to call “dear”, have talks, the daily “expectations and assumptions”.  
  
 Months ago, 
      our sister was saying that she will talk to you, uncle,
      to get the true stories of our past since you were the eldest
      with the most remembrances.
  
      One story:  Mother was taken away by a soldier to be shot, 
      and surprisingly released. Was it before the Korean War, or during it?  
  
      The days and weeks passed.  
      And you died before we had a chance to ask you.  
  
 By you leaving suddenly, 
      your quiet advice to me is to take time and get to know each other.  
  
      So I called sister, living hundreds of miles away.  I got to thank her for
      watching over me as a child.
  
      I watched the video-sermons of our younger brother living on an island.
      I joined his live-virtual meetings with his parishioners.  
      We ask each other, “How is your soul today?”  
      My soul is comforted just to be with our younger-living brother;  
      just seeing him, listening to his thoughts.  
  
 Thank you, uncle; our sweet, smiling “brother-uncle”.     

---

Portia Choi published a chapbook of her poems Sungsook, Korean War Poems. At Writers of Kern (WOK) meetings, Portia met other writers who became friends and mentors. She hosts First Friday Open Mic and publicizes National Poetry Month in April.  She administers www.kernpoetry.com.  Contact Portia at [email protected].

by Jennette Green

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Jennette Green writes sweet romance with a touch of spice. She fell in love with writing when she was seven. As a teen, while traveling on a sailboat with her family in Central America, she filled notebooks with stories. Her books have received “Reader’s Favorite Hero,” “Reviewer’s Choice Award” and more. ‘Snowstorm’ was an international bestseller.

by Gary Evans

 Enjoying January 2020 on Pismo Beach
 after letting Ruby run into the waves,
 the coolness of the saltwater gives me some relief
 of the cramps in my calves and my feet.
  
 It is beautiful with the sunset,
 and more so with my wife beside me.
 She is supportive, and she helped to lift me up
 several times after falling to my knees.
  
 I figure that it is God’s way of showing me
 that I have her strength as well as my own.
  
 I had to use the cane to help me rise,
 and the dog tried to assist by pulling me along;
 which reminds me that God will not only rise the tide
 but me as well while the sun goes down. 

---

Gary Evans, DC, is a self-employed chiropractor, currently retired and disabled. He is the father of 3 daughters and has been married for 43 years.  His first published piece is in Pathway to the Heart, WOK’s 2021 anthology.  Gary is a member of Parkside Church and Writers of Kern.

by Carla Stanley

 In your jewelry box I found 12 old watches, 
 Watches that marked the years of your life. 
 Each similar- 
             Twisty metal band, small face, no numbers. 
  
 Marking your time as a mother and wife. 
 Always early for an event, 
 Always ready for what would happen next. 
 Events blending together, year after year. 
 Each watch showing the passage of the seasons 
             Rough edges smoothed. 
              
 You adapted as we grew  
 To a world that changed around you, 
 Until children grown, husband gone 
 You found yourself. 
  
 At 89 you had new friends, 
 New hobbies, new interests, in a new home. 
  
 Even as your sight failed and 
 Your arthritis hindered your movements, 
 You adapted and enjoyed your new life.  
 Large print books, brighter lights, a walker,  
 A watch with a big face, big numbers, and a strap to buckle on every day. 
  
 On that watch you marked the hours of your 97th year 
 As your body wore down and gave up. 
 You held on to every minute as I held on to your hand 
 To help you through those last days 
             as you helped me through my first days. 
  
 Your watches sit in a jar 
 Tangled with my watches. 
 They are woven together, the memories of watches 
  and time spent with you.  

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Carla Stanley is a retired Theater & English teacher. She is a Bakersfield native and spent 20 years as a military wife living in Oklahoma, Washington and Germany. She spends her time traveling with her husband (pre-COVID), writing, gardening, and walking her dog Sky.