Blog

by Carla Joy Martin

 We all have this urge to connect with another.
 Yet when this urge is thwarted,
 And our longings brought to grief,
 We may find solace
 In Nature. 
  
 And when we observe her,
 Whether the subtle folds and flourishes of a flower,
 Or the tentative tentacles of an octopus,
 Or the deepening colors of a sunset,
 Peace pervades our souls.
  
 How vast yet intricate is our world, dear Lord!
 And she will divulge her secrets to those who care to seek,
 To watch, listen and learn.
 When we dig our hands in the soil,
 Or dive down deep into ocean depths,
 Or climb hand-over-hand up the steepest crevasse,
 We witness the wonder and the glory,
 The everlasting yet fragile majesty.
  
 May we always seek the Earth’s mystery
 And protect her vulnerability,
 So man can save himself from himself
 For generations to come. 

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Carla Joy Martin is a poet, pastel artist and piano instructor.  After living in New York, Scotland and Pasadena, she has now resided in Bakersfield for thirty-five years.  Carla enjoys promoting the arts in Bakersfield.  She hosts the Dukes Memorial Concerts as well as co-hosts the First Friday Open Mic Nights with Portia Choi. 

by Jennette Green

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 Annis Cassells

The red light whirled and flashed on this residential tree-lined street. Not my normal route, but a diversion, a road less taken. The vested officer, shimmered in the noon-time heat, loomed tall beside the window of a maroon Mini-Cooper. The driver’s license in hand, he retreated to his silver-and-white Beverly Hills Police Department SUV. I strolled past the cop and the car. Glanced over to see a young Black man, the driver, a young Asian woman in the passenger’s seat. Both mute. His jaw clenched, hands gripped the wheel. She held herself tight, arms around her waist, rocked back and forth. I acknowledged them with a nod and Hey there as I passed. Fifty yards further, in an oasis of shade I took out my phone, brought up the camera, waited while the scene played out. A second police car approached. The two armed officers strutted in synch, surrounded the Mini-Cooper. Rooted to the steaming asphalt, I stood beneath that tree, focused, held my packages and my breath. Released it once the officer presented the ticket, the driver signed, handed it back. The Mini-Cooper remained still for twenty heartbeats. It inched away from the curb, commenced forward, stopped beside me. The young driver met my gaze, reached out his hand, shook mine. Thank you. Thank you for waiting. Because the outcome could have been very different.

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Annis Cassells is a longtime member of Writers of Kern. Her poems have appeared in print and online journals. In 2019 Annis published her first poetry collection, You Can’t Have It All. She’s a contributor in the 2020 social justice anthology, ENOUGH “Say Their Names…”

by Judy Kukuruza

Damp soil - clumps, clods, granules
Many parts - whole
Felt with hands, bare feet;
aroma of primitive abandonment

Everchanging sky - constantly shifting, moving
Intriguing blues, whites, grays,
Mirroring and holding colorful sunsets, dawns;
Surrounding all - but unreachable.
 
Mother ocean moving in and out -
giving life, taking life;
Blue, green, foamy white - pulling, pushing
rising, falling - stirring and soothing.

Wind, air - pushing soil, sky, waters.
Colorless - hot, cold, scary, comforting,
Howling, soughing, caressing, buffeting.
Air with power to give and take away.

Elements inherent to ALL life -
respected, enjoyed, feared - ACCEPTED
Heightening senses, appealing baseness
the terrible beauty of CONNECTION. 

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Retired college instructor from CSUB and Bakersfield College. She published her memoir One Body/Many Souls in 2018, and later Poems to Ponder, Little Stories to Play with in Your Mind, and Letters. She publishes her blog, “Our Spiritual Journey” through Word Press.

by Carla Stanley

 
 Trains twine through my life.
 Distant sounds of trains moving in the night
 Bracket sleepless nights of childhood and old age.
 Trains travel through my town, 
 A few miles from my house.
  
 Child-I traveled on the train,
 Dad had a pass, 
 He worked for the railroad.
 Adult-living in Germany, 
 Trains were a way of life.
 An efficient way to get to town.
 Grandparent-flying to D.C. to see grandbabies,
 Taking the train back to California.
 What a thrill.
  
 Retiree-read before I travel.
 I appreciate 
 The engineering,
 The labor,
 The imagination
 That went into laying track, 
 Blowing holes in mountains,
 Across the United States.
 Trains to Arizona and the Grand Canyon
 Amaze me.
 The vastness of the land revealed to 
 The traveler. 

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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.