A World of Our Own Making

I choose to be a figure in that light . . .

I choose to walk here. And to draw this circle.

Adrienne Rich

One day I’ll jump out of my skin. I’ll shake the sky like a hundred violins.

Sandra Cisneros

 

Submit Your Art and Writing to WAVES

 

 

 

“Reverie” by Sumner Crenshaw

 

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Between the invisible and the visible, desire takes off her blindfold.

 

Lisa Breger

 

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Now, I rip open the cocoon and spread my wet wings … Now, there is no flown or flew … There is only flying, fluttering, gliding. It is only the joy of doing with no regard for done.

 

“Ready” by Julia Gordon-Bramer

 

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“Integration of Selves” by Gillian Barlow & Carrie Nassif

 

This work is about: This white-out poem is taken from p. 56 of Virgina Woolf’s Orlando, published in 1994 by Chancellor Press. Gillian and I did a lot of experimental poetry using this as our source and this was the favorite of mine.

 

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The Q: How does the act of creation transform our reality?

 

Respond Here

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rising from deep within is a message I’ve been waiting for …

I can see where I’ve been walking in shoes too small for me…

I let myself be known in the seclusion of my heart

 

“My Tribe is Leaving Me” by Julane Borth

 

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“La Dama Violeta Para la Carmen” by Helen Hernandez

 

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This is her teacup—hand-painted leaves

and flowers with a bouquet of names

of borage, chive, chamomile, and tansy.

On top, a delicate lid to keep tea warm.

This is her teacup, and there she is

in her sun room, not as she left it

but as she dreamed it could be

 

“Delicate” by Carol Grannick

 

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… I am

the kind of woman who appreciates

the reflection of the whole sky, one

who delights in clouds daffodil yellow,

clouds the color of sweet plums,

clouds as tall as masted ships

and clouds that hold lightning like

fireflies in a jar.

I will spend my hour of free time

languorously

swimming through that sky.

Pool of stars, pool of morning,

pool of heaven.

 

“Turquoise” by Susan Demiglio

 

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“Blue Bird” by Irene Sheri Vishnevskaya

 

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May my words travel like feathers

fallen from the sky

into corners of the world I may never go

 

“Birdsong” by Tina Bethea Ray

 

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Author: A Room of Her Own

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