Mary Moore’s personal story of entrepreneurship is an inspiration to all aspiring entrepreneurs and business leaders who hope to make a difference for themselves and their communities. Her journey to success is admirable for its creativity and innovativeness. Her path has not been easy or simple. Yet, the difficulties and disappointments along the way have taught her how to navigate the challenges of entrepreneurship. And now, she is teaching us.
Podcast interview with Jan Levine Thal, Artistic Director, Kathie Rasmussen Women’s Theatre (Krass), Madison, WI. Krass supports women playwrights and directors but welcomes people of all genders in all other aspects of its work. In this interview she discusses why women’s theater is the same and different from all other theater.
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See the website for current and past work: krasstheatre.com
Your smile is a million candles
That give light to my heart
The winds carry your scent
The trees hide desires in secret
You are a rose and thorn
Sin and salvation
Nightfall and sunrise
You are the pull of the moon
The erupting force of volcanoes
Upon the whispers of the wind
My spirit can hear your voice
A gentle tone
Filled with love and desire
We are harmony
The moments of rhythm and emotion
Give life to the symphony on your lips
Our bodies sway to the beats
Of our hearts
I revel in your rapture
For I have forsaken a hundred
Just to see the light of a new day
Dance upon your lips.
©PICTORIGHTS AMSTERDAM. Photo by Bugiandassociates
We came to America without a clue
When November rolled around and Thanksgiving, too
Stories of pilgrims with funny black hats
And Native Americans with feathers – Who knew!
Lower down the bridges of man Made regulations
and let me wonder in the Spanish architectural field
the high rising skeletons of your priesthood
Let me, Kick, apart
Trading slavery a market to human dishonesty,
A dark age to be crucified again,
as i look back and travel in the Scorns of History,
Not long ago Che, and Fidel Castro- marched into it.
Broken on the inside – The War Never Ended by Dutch author and journalist Simon Hammelburg is based on 1200 interviews with Holocaust survivors and their children. The book reads like a novel but is based on facts, some of which have never been revealed before, disclosing insights of the psychological aftermath of survivors as well as the post-war generations and the traumas that are passed on for over six generations.
He learned to hate at an early age
everything green spooned onto his plate.
It repelled as if monsters
curled on the dish lying in wait
to inject their slimy poison.
humanity is lost
so do not tell me that
peace still exists
you are wrong
the truth is
the world is at war
you will never be treated with equal rights if you are a minority, and
do not dare say that
the good of humanity will prevail
because I know
evil is all around us
you would be lying to say
there is time for healing and
there is still hope,
this country is not divided,
we can take pride in our country
America is still the land of freedom,
I can say unequivocally that
that is just not true
the fact is
our country will never be the same
we will never be the same
humanity is lost
Now read from the bottom to the top
and turned out the lights,
I heard my mother pray
with all the others.
The room stank
like stables. Foul air
burned my nostrils.
Soon, moans replaced
the prayers. I wondered
about the promised water.
When the valves creaked
open, I felt no water,
only something invisible
on my skin. We were naked
as the truth that could not be
hidden any longer.
My mother squeezed me
to her bossom—I never liked
the smell of almonds.
The last thing I heard was
the sweet sound of violins,
the trumpeting of angels.
First published in A Quiet Courage: A Journal of Microfiction and Poetry in 100 Words or Less (November 2015).
Author’s Notes: The order to exterminate the Jews was signed in July 1941. At Triblenka II, the path leading from the undressing barracks (many were fooled into thinking they would be getting hot showers) through the forested area into the gas chambers was cynically called die Himmelstraße (the road to heaven). But the killing process at Treblinka—suffocation and carbon monoxide poisoning—differed significantly from the method used at Auschwitz and Majdanek, where the poison gas was hydrogen cyanide (which has the smell of almonds).
Dawn blossoms May’s moon,
tempts white-winged moths
to worship the dew.
The widow of Coomcallee limps
the river bank, seeks the shallows,
water shushing pebble, stone.