Donna JT Smith
“Thoughtful Bunny”
Inspiration piece

Waiting
By Angi Lewis
Response

Out the window
all is white.

I miss the light in spring
the spread of green.

dear Rabbit,
teach me to sit and listen

for the world waking
for the quick and coming light.

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Leslie Grollman
“A Creation Myth”
Inspiration piece

Creation of the Myth
By Donna JT Smith
Response

There was this extreme “kaboom!”

like when a tree falls in the woods only hundreds of times quieter because

even more people weren’t there

to hear it than there would be for the tree.

And a whole very large nothing sprung a hole through which

great somethings and sparkly bits spewed:

vomitous milky ways

and chunky earthy things that stuck on,

and grew into cows ‘n’ mountains,

and other nouns we’d eventually enjoy –

though hornets ‘n’ lava not so much –

when we morphed from monkeys

and got even better thumbs.

That’s the way creaturing and featuring began.

We won’t be keeping all this though, kid – too much upkeep.

“Home for Sale –

perfect distance from the sun –

great views –

needs work –

sold as is”

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Donna JT Smith
“Winter at the Lake”
Watercolor
Response

Winter Memory
By Angi Lewis
Inspiration piece

I am young, maybe eight-
my brother and I walk
to the lake alone.

I put on my skates
draw circles on the ice
catch fine, drifting flakes.

I feel the trees lean close
the soft sky hanging low
all of life hushed and still

there is the thrill of
just my brother and me and
the blush of cold on my cheeks.

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Karen Schmitz
“Simplicity”
Inspiration piece

The Legacy
By Donna JT Smith
Response

Any fabric she embraced
Succumbed to her control;
Every needle with her touch
Realized their starring role.

Thistledown would fill the air
Late-summer on the bay,
On the day that Newfoundland
Began to drift away.
She followed him, her fisherman,
South with child in tow.
Still near the ocean’s wildest winds
Was where they sought to go.
She came by boat with little more
Than the clothes upon her back,
Pieced and sewn by her own hands,
No garments off a rack.
She left behind her old life
Of hard simplicity,
And looked upon her new world
She’d heard of past the sea.
So this was her America;
No more a chiffon dream.
She knew the life of fabrics,
She lived in worlds of seams.
There’d still be denim hardships,
Still some canvas sails;
But, oh, the legacy she’d leave
In taffeta and tulle trails.
Heritors in years to come
Would love the weave and waves
Of ocean and the fabric,
Though with lesser waves to brave.

Now any fabric we embrace
Still feels the past control;
Every needle with our touch
Reveals her starring role.

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Susan B.
Collage
Inspiration piece

Pressed for Time
By Donna JT Smith
Response

Near the end of the book
A blossom
Waiting

Between words and time
Has petals
Fading.

A time marker now that’s
Patiently
Sleeping,

Dreaming of dancing, its
Limbs lithely
Sweeping.

Reopen the book where
Pressed time is
Dwelling,

Bask in the memories
This flower’s
Telling.

Don’t mind the breeze’s
Soft whispers
Uttered;

Mine is the voice of those
Stale pages
Fluttered.

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Donna JT Smith
Hearts Never Part
Response

A Whole Is Worth More Than Its Parts
By Amy Souza
Inspiration piece

A stranger on the lawn
Wears pandemic gloves to
Pick through my mother’s linens
What she doesn’t take goes downtown
To a shelter where a man holds the door
In case something happens
It gets a little weird down here,
He says. A little? a second man
Laughs. But I don’t feel scared
Only lost at depositing five
Black bags holding my mother’s
Life. Sheets she bought to
Cheer her up. Blankets my
Dog loved. Pillows from every
Room. Everyday items that
Can break a heart and make
Me feel off kilter. My mother’s
House in pieces is junk that
Needs attention when together
It spelled home. Vanished and
Won’t return no matter
How hard I need it back

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I danced on the rooftop

One day in the sun,

Until a plane came

And ended my fun;

Then poof went my top half,

Off came my head,

Yet somehow

My bottom half

Refused to be dead.

And even my arms

Continued to flail

Like I was calling all customers

To a big sale!

Someone tethered my jeans

To keep them from walking,

And people just passing

Couldn’t curtail their gawking.

Up on the roof

You will see, perchance,

Blue jeans against sky

Where I used to dance.

With streetlights as footlights

I still gather great crowds –

My feet planted firmly,

My head in the clouds.

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Donna JT Smith
“I Know About Bunnies”
Watercolor pencils
Response

Unanticipated Relations
With Hidden Vulnerabilities
By Jennifer Fendya
Inspiration piece

Plunging my protected, garden-
gloved hand into a mound
of leaves leftover from the Fall,

crested into a sheltering
alcove by the porch (the task
to clean out the refuse),

I brush against heartbeat
and fur, sudden quick but
unseen movement, an imaged

softness, blurred recall
of fingers inside warm
winter mittens.

I startle and pray
with each breath PLEASE
PLEASE PLEASE DON’T

let me have destroyed
the home, trespassed
the Mother, made abandoned

the babies. I realize
completely that I know
nothing about bunnies.

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I Wear My Heart on My Sleeve
By Donna JT Smith
Response

Some say I should keep
My feelings inside;
I should be discreet,
My feelings denied,
Not boldly shown
So all is known
Of the hurt if you were to leave;
But –
I wear my heart on my sleeve.

I may love too much,
A little too deep;
But what good is life
If I could not leap,
Not boldly go
Never to grow
If there was a chance that I’d grieve?
So –
I wear my heart on my sleeve.

I open my arms,
I open my heart,
I wear my feelings
On every part;
It’s in my glow,
I’m quick to show
In this love of ours I believe,
Thus –
I wear my heart on my sleeve.

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Journey To Iceland
By Alyscia Cunningham
Inspiration piece


Abela slowly open her eyes to a sky view of beautifully colored dancing clouds. Or so it seemed. “Wow…I’m in heaven.” she thought.

Feeling confused, immediately after, she sat up abruptly and said, “Wait…I’m in heaven?”
From a distance Abela saw the plane slowly sinking. “I knew you would make it.” said a gentle voice. In that moment Abela realized she was sitting on the back of a sperm whale. In her mind Abela began to question the reality of the situation.

“No you’re not dreaming,” said the whale. “My name is Zuri. What’s yours?” Abela introduced herself and uttered, “But how….”

“The plane crashed,” interrupted Zuri. “You were the only one breathing. I put you on my back and swam away so you wouldn’t sink with the plane.” Abela tried her best to sit up once again, but because of her body aches she couldn’t.

“Thank you,” Abela replied. “I wish I could somehow repay you.” “Just rest for now,” said Zuri. “When we reach ashore, I’ll explain how you can help.”

It seemed as if only a few minutes had passed when Abela awoke to Zuri’s voice. “We’re here.”
“Where are we?” asked Abela.

“We’ve made it to shore,” replied Zuri. “My baby is ill and needs the healing water from the Blue Lagoon.”

“The Blue Lagoon. Why do we need water from there? Couldn’t we use this water?” asked Abela, pointing at the ocean below them. “Plus I’m hurt. I don’t think I can make it.”

“Don’t fret, you’ll make it,” said Zuri. “Serenity will help you find the way.”
In that instant, Zuri gently rolled over for Abela to swim off toward shore. “I’ll be back tomorrow before sunset,” said Zuri. “The water will heal your pain as well”. Then she swam away towards the deep blue ocean.

Abela yelled out, “But where is Serenity?”

“I am here,” replied a calm windy voice. “I followed you to shore. Remember the dancing clouds?” Looking up to the sky, Abela nodded yes.

“Well that was me,” said the voice. “My name is Serenity but everyone knows me as Aurora Borealis. I’ll guide you to the Blue Lagoon so you can get the water for Zuri’s baby. But before giving it to Zuri you must first have it blessed by Kentiaus, the Priest at Hallgrimskirkja. He speaks whale.” 
Feeling exhausted, Abela dropped her knees down into the gritty sand.

“I can’t do it!” exclaimed Abela. “I’m tired and in a lot of pain.” Serenity blew swiftly, picking Abela up to her feet. “Don’t worry,” said Serenity. ”I’ll help you get there.”

“Ok, but before I start, can you tell me where I am?” asked Abela. “I have no clue where the plane crashed. I was on my way to Greenland.”

“That’s easy,” replied Serenity. “You’re in Iceland. The land of storytelling.”

“Iceland?” asked Abela. “Wow! How amazing that I crashed landed in a place I’ve always wanted to visit.”

“Wonderful it is!” exclaimed Serenity. “Now let our journey begin!”

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Note:  All of the art, writing and music on this site belongs to the person who created it.  Copying or republishing anything you see here without the express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.