Writer. Educator. Artist.
Life and Labyrinth
arlene s bice
The gleeful gathering of women-friends
together on a summer eve
to walk a labyrinth.
Each woman walks in from a different place
tho starting from the same spot
to walk a life.
We advance at different lengths
tender our own measured pace
to walk the chapters.
Pausing at each level we feel the experience
recording each sensation
to walk the path.
Arriving at the end, which is also the beginning
in a new direction, all the same
yet each one different.
I met Erika DeRuth at IWWG annual writing conference
and bought this chapbook from her in 2000.
A few poem titles with in:
cha cha pinsprites
questions fly
spraypaint on art’
silence
ballet in cowboy boots
apples and underwear
who am i
From the late Judy Beach’s Ritual Writing IWWG
One poem:
Spell For A Desired Position
arlene s bice
Cast a circle
lay a blue cloth in the center
with a blue candle in a blue dish on top
of the blue cloth. Enhance this with a blue
ribbon, let scented citrus oil permeate the air. Be
sure to have blue underwear on. Lay a section of
the newspaper that is desired to be publish in, be-
tween you and the candle. Lay your article on top of
the desired newspaper. Light the blue candle. Begin
speaking gently to Mother Goddess: “Please merge
these two that I may become the writer, published
routinely, desired by many readers, appreciated
by editors. Send the power, wisdom,
make way for my path. My grace
to you with thankfulness.
Blessed be.
What Brought You Here? Nancy Duei Denofio
Bruises
It tasted like a nip
of bad wine-it would
curl inside, grabbing
a hold of your heart.
One more time-then
it’s over. They say
tell us again.
It’s self confidence
assurance, liberty of
women, our right.
One taller, stronger, a
warrior. Picture a
dignified soldier.
Children seldom hear
the scrape of a sharpened
blade.
Revenge, pillage, spoiled
Deflowered, endeavor, and
weaker, unable to fight
or confront a warrior.
Those who never touched
a blade tell those who have,
“Confront the past.”
Writing What You Love Loving What You Write
From the late Judy Beach
Ice Cream and Love
arlene s bice
It’s more than a childhood memory;
the texture, the flavors, the taste
rolling around my tongue, melting, creamy
soothing my throat, adding to my pleasure.
The biting cold stinging my mouth.
Strawberries freshly picked in spring,
chunks, dripping with sweet juices
lay over the mound of French Vanilla
in a fancy glass rimmed in gold
like kisses laying on my lips.
A summer-ripened cantaloupe,
hollowed out and filled with scoops
of Chocolate; blending, melting
with the juices of warm fruit
coming together as one body.
In the autumn when spicy flavors
of Pumpkin and Buttered Rum tease
the palate, tingling the tongue
licking the drips on the cone,
my fingers wrapped around it.
Cold winds come in winter,
volcanic hot fudge covers the
heaping icebergs of Black Walnut
like your hands caressing my
breasts with your touch.
Seasons define the years,
flavors define the seasons.
Last year in an IWWG conference poetry workshop of Marj Hahn’s
we wrote from postcards of original paintings:
YELLOW LANDSCAPE/artist/JOHN MATLACK
arlene sandra bice
brilliant yellow in a living urban landscape
where color shows up to reveal
special pocket spaces indicating
poets
artists
musicians
are bringing life to a city setting
the creatives gather, cluster, whisper
vibrant partnerships form, friendships, really
latching on as extensions of self
easy to spot, these oases of art, poetry, music
colors abound, signage, posters, murals
in the unlikeliest places, just emerge
unplanned, fed, watered, nurtured
suffering? yes, those who try too hard
seeking perfection; art is life
with scars showing character
your choice, enjoy or no
absorb the blues
taste the reds
seek the yellows
notes fly out as the doors open
flooding the golden light
onto the sidewalks
where it leaks over the curb
into the street bleeding away
spreading love
leaving spots of life on a blue-
blackened night