National Poetry Month, Day 20 | Chris Sartain & Carolyn Riker

April 20, 2021

Photo by Chris Sartain

Childhood Memories
Carolyn Riker

Those memories 
the color of a Polaroid 
taken from a short distance 
still remain unclear. 

Were the memories real 
was the house that shaken 
did the floorboards creak 
in a certain anticipation? 

Those known footsteps 
a heaviness, 
stomping, deliberately 
hesitating at each door. 

How do those memories 
remain present in the 
corners of yesteryear 
as if they are still here? 

Curious, young, excusing 
the weight on tiny shoulders 
carries the silent shivers 
‘till tears appear. 

Dusty memories noticed. 
Triggered by a scent,  
a voice, the free hang  
of a swing lifts hope. 

Stay detached  
from memory’s eye 
clutch the edges  
as the Polaroid dries. 

Swing slightly higher 
pretend to have wings 
eyes closed, heart opened 
heals those memories.

Connect

See more of film photographer Chris Sartain’s work on Instagram.

Read more writer Carolyn Riker’s work on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and on Medium.

National Poetry Month, Day 19 | Mats Strandberg & Erika Burkhalter

April 19, 2021

Photo by Mats Strandberg

The Rider Mower
by Erika Burkhalter

It happened in slow motion.
The tumble down the hill.
The rider-mower—with my grandpa astride. 
All the grandkids were watching.
It was Allis Chalmers, of course.
Because that’s what he sold, my grandpa,
whose family hailed from Norway,
and farmed in Minnesota. 
It rolled and rolled.
And I was sure that my grandpa would die. 
But in the end, all that was injured
was his pride.

Connect

See more of film photographer Mats Strandberg’s work on Instagram. and on his website.

Read more writer Erika Burkhalter’s work on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and on Medium.

National Poetry Month, Day 18 | Ralph Whitehead & Neta Q

April 18, 2021

Photo by Ralph Whitehead

Denying Integrity
by NetaQ

I am furious at the world
A wolverine’s rage thrashing

Tormented, decimating kindness,
Where it once existed

I don’t care that just a few
People aren’t good

I care that six and more good humans
Can no longer feel the warmth of

Hugs from sons and daughters
The whole world is shaking

And should crack for us
A cavernous scar - absent of life

I matter. We matter.
You matter.

Final Recipe
By NetaQ

When the woman in mirror
Looks back at me

Elongated neck poised
stifled by vanity

No such promise could
Be valued when not earned

Laid bare is the presumption,
who is and isn't worthy

By thine own hand
Streaked in sunshine

Will I turn flailing
And judged my mirrored hope

A Mona Lisa beauty,
Painted within your confines

A photo captures a soul
And a mirror reflects its light

A Faithful Pilgrimage Feeding My Light
By NetaQ

I know the burden of walking
Darken streets to my car
I was just a girl, now a woman.

Trepidation, a daily foe
Constraints scream
Expectations and traditions

With this gift, I deny my feet
The comfort of concrete
I soar above the trees

Waving my limbs to caress
Branches not rooted in doubt.
I am out of sight and mind -

One with unfurled petals, taunted
By the winds of wisdom
Soothing without purpose or vanity

To see me, you will know
The shape of my lips
Shadow of a rouge cheek

Within these swaying limbs
A timeless knowing, stretches
To roots adorned

I plead my feet to descend,
hope a fervent prayer,
To daytime, but a night in denial.

A Photo Story
By NetaQ

I am more than what you see
Perfection in curves and lines

I remembered scarred hands
Peeling the last orange

Pulpy sweetness pushed against
My lips, the first fruits

No, you eat mom, you need it more
No, open your mouth, my heart

Yes, I was her heart
Cages to trimmed hedges

I still hear my mother’s voice
Her dreams for me

Fighting to conquer a future denied
Traditions be damned

Clothing bespoke expectations
No such cloth is woven in my dreams

My vulnerable nape
Is carrying more than preconceived

A saber sharp edge, slicing
Joy blooms from the discarded shards

I grasp my own fruit and think
Of the one who carried me

See me for not the precursor
To your bad, terrible, no good day

To you an ‘other’ - denied validity
I. Am. My mother’s daughter

Open your mouth, my heart,
Eat, you need it more.

Connect

See more of film photographer Ralph Whitehead’s work on Instagram. and on his website.

Read more writer Neta Q’s work on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and on Medium.