Everything Writers Need | Writers of Kern
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.
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.
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.
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.
by Dianne M. Buxton
In Athens, then, truthsayers and foreign philosophers Retained their own quarters up on the hill. Dined by royal patrons, they would slip away, avoiding the palace women. At the foot of Apollo they laughed over mental puzzles Commented on gossip concerning the generals Inevitably thinking of war, they sobered - What is it exactly that philosophy should conquer? Our generals no longer indulge in such patronage The poets and the press form their own armies Formidable prisons provide them with silence and privacy They commit words of truth and wisdom to memory. Now armed with pen and paper, should I seek the tasteful phrases, Twist some tantalizing ideas, entertain beneath the lights, create a diversion? Suggest some miracle is immanent?
Dianne M. Buxton’s poetry can be seen in Global Poemic, Caveat Lector, The Griffin, Sanskrit, and The 2021 Writers of Kern Anthology. A graduate of the National Ballet School of Canada and an alumni of the Martha Graham School of Contemporary Dance in NYC, she retired from the performance and teaching in the dance world and now writes.