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Surveying this vast expanse
I experience a sense of eternity.

The salty ocean spray mists my face.
I dig deep into the sand
to find the moisture below.
The beach is rich with life.
Sea gulls squawk overhead
Pelicans skydive for supper
while sand crabs burrow deep
Limpets and mussels cling desperately
to wave-worn rocks.
A shell tumbles towards the shore
pushed by the last big wave.

At water’s edge, I yell in my biggest voice.
Fears, rage, sorrow,
hopes, longings and deepest desires
crashing out from a primal scream
Firmly and safely held by the powerful waves
and the thunderous sound of the surf.
The ocean holds them all.

Heaven and earth hear my prayer.
No more will I hide from life.
Transformation begins.
Dreaming turns into Doing.
Wishing becomes will-power.
Digging demands discovery.

I AM.

—Rose Lester

(Originally published in Writing Flora, Writing Fauna (2018). Used with permission of the author.)

Rose Lester is a Marriage and Family Therapist in private practice. As a true renaissance woman, she aspires to all things creative and is at home in a variety of creative mediums from song writing and singing, to playing her violin and guitar, to painting and sculpting, or writing poems about life and transformation. Her poems have been published in several anthologies and online websites. She volunteers for the Art for Healing program at Mercy Hospital and helps lead the Threshold Choir that sings at the bedside of those in need of comfort and peace.

What if…if just for today
I thought I was pretty?
It almost makes me giddy!
But what if?
Would I stand a little taller?
Walk a little prouder?
Smile at the reflection in the mirror?

What if…just for today,
I thought I was strong!
Capable to handle whatever comes along?
What if?
Would I speak my mind?
To the weak be kind?
Make solid decisions, my mind clearer?
And what if… for today only,
I believed I was worthy?
Would it make me happy?
If…
I thought of myself as God does,
Lived life as his princess cause,
That’s who I am to my creator.
If, for today,
I say,
I am pretty,
I am strong,
I am worthy,
I’m capable,
I’m kind,
I am my beloved’s,
And he is mine.
–Lee Stewart

I have lived in Bakersfield for five years. I am currently working on a Bachelor Degree in Psychology and have applied for the Masters Degree program at CSUB. I self-published a book of poems called InkSpots and wrote a screenplay. Lately, however, most of my writing has been academic in nature.

My voice shakes, my hand reaches out.
I grip your extended hand firmly, feeling your vibes.
We smile at each other and mumble our names.
Hands drop, as do your eyes—awkward moments.

I watch your face, glance at your hands.
“First time here?”
Never looking up, you nod.
“You’ll like it, I think,” I smile.

You look up, smiling with hope.
I see your eyes searching mine,
They ask if I’m being sincere.
You see me, I see you.

You see honest interest and caring,
I see your worry, fear of rejection.
You see I understand,
I see you begin to open the door to your soul.

You see, then feel no threat, no harm,
I see a warm and beautiful heart,
And we have connected.
I am so glad I see you.

—Judy Kukuruza

Judy Kukuruza is a retired college instructor, continual student of others and bleeding heart peace lover. She has written since she learned to write. Her memoir, One Body, Many Souls, was published in 2018.

Sierra dawn,
crystals whirl, wispy– white gentle on pine branches.

Awakened children run to this surprise,
form a footpath from the cabin,
flapping arms and legs, becoming angels—

Children and parents—together—push and roll snowballs into
white belly, chest and head:
Brown branches for arms,
black briquettes for eyes,
yellow banana peel for a smile,
sliced carrots for buttons;

This snowman stands on a lawn overlooking a lake.

By end of the day, it melts bowing to the departing sun.

—Portia Choi

Portia Choi hosts the monthly First Friday Open Mic and publicizes events during National Poetry Month in April. She administers www.kernpoetry.com. She published a chapbook of her poems Sungsook, Korean War Poems. Her poems are published in multiple journals. She can be contacted at [email protected]

shadows soften the glare of assertive colors
and give pause for the lens
to notice shades of reality
missed in overexposure.

shadows caress the mind’s eye
and swim through her veins.
imagination, fantasy, memory and yearning
paint in light and shadow
a step apart from black/white.
shadows bring mystery and depth
to the game called developing.

—Terry Redman

My card says, “Mystery Fan, Bibliophile, Writer, Raconteur.” I have published in non-fiction, fiction and poetry. Reading or viewing TV have always been a part of my life, tending toward suspense, character-driven fiction, biographies, mysteries and biographical non-fiction. Add seasonal NFL games and the Warriors to complete the menu. Currently I enjoy writing creative blank verse poetry.