Kansas City Voices

"Mount Blackburn, Wrangell Mountain Range, Alaska" by Judy Beyer--Guest Blogger

2012-02-16T06:00:00.000-08:00

This oil painting was done from a photograph Judy took of Mount Blackburn, part of the Wrangell Mountain Range, during our trip to Alaska in August of 2010. The original work is an 11 x 14 Oil on Canvas Panel.

--Judy works with a variety of mediums with a focus on landscapes and portraits of children and animals. We are proud to feature her work in our most recent volume of Kansas City Voices. Order your copy today at http://www.kansascityvoices.com/

Call for Submissions-30 days left

2012-02-09T06:00:00.000-08:00

Don't miss your chance to appear in the 10th anniversary edition of Kansas City Voices. Send us your art work, poetry, and prose today. Go to http://www.kansascityvoices.com/ to submit your work.

"Watching Dracula With My Daughter" by Joe Benevento--Guest Blogger

2012-02-02T06:00:00.000-08:00

The Lugosi one, from the early '30's:
        hardly any blood, Renfield's eyes
        crazier than the idea of a living dead,
        Mina not any more grateful to be rescued
        from the Count than she should be.

        I send my younger two off to play,
        mostly so my wife won't blame me
        for five year old Claire's nightmares,
        but Maria, twelve, stays with me to watch
        the horror unfold.

        All the darkness, the black and white
        castles, crypts, bats we watch together,
        laughing at what is supposed to be frightening,
        since that is what we always do
        best together.

        I thought I wanted Maria to watch with me
        because we love the classics I watched
        with my sisters when I was her age,
        but this is not the Marx Brothers
        or some old, romantic comedy.

        At its core, this version of the vampire
        shows a father worried about his daughter's
        well-being but unaware until almost too late
        of the imminence of her peril. Not even
        the bite marks on her neck are enough to alert him,

        not even Mina's best friend's demise
        with its post-mortem menacing of little children
        in the park at dusk. And about as late I recognize
        how perverse it will seem to my spouse,
        off to her women's meeting

        that Maria and I should be viewing
        the work of Dracula together,
        to observe how close he comes to stealing
        the life of someone's young daughter,
        straight through to the end, when

        the stake is being driven through
        the Count's cold heart,
        even though the old films never keep
        on screen those awful things we know
        are necessary, finally, to a drama's resolution.

--The following poem is from Joe's chapbook, "Tough Guys Don't Write," with Finishing Line Press. It can be ordered at www.finishinglinepress.com

Read more of Joe's work when you get your copy of Kansas City Voices Volume 9. To get your copy click here.

"One Doggone Good Ghost Story" by Marilee Aufdenkamp--Guest Blogger

2012-01-19T06:00:00.000-08:00

“Do you believe in ghosts?” my friend asks over espresso and biscotti at our favorite indie coffee shop.

“As a matter of fact,” I say, lowering my voice and fixing my eyes on hers, “right after I graduated from nursing school, I lived in a creepy old house with a sagging porch, and I had an even creepier landlord who always looked at my chest, instead of my face, when he talked to me out in the driveway. Anyway, I came home from work one morning and found blood spattered all over my bedroom: I’m talking walls, curtains, lampshades, everywhere.”

I glance up and notice that the only customer in the coffee shop is a burly man with dirty hands and a Valvoline cap pulled low over his forehead.

“What did you do?” my friend gasps.

“I wasn’t sure what to do,” I say. “I can’t believe now that I did this; I knew I had to get some sleep - I had to work again that evening - so I convinced myself there had to be a logical explanation. I cleaned up the blood, made sure my phone was working, pushed a chair in front of my door, and cuddled-up on the couch with my good old dog Jasper. Poor thing, he was so old by then: he must have had cataracts, at least he had a sort of milky film over his eyes, he was gray around the mouth, and his ear tips were perpetually crusted over from dragging in his dog dish”

“I can’t believe you stayed there and went to sleep,” my friend says. “You must have been crazy!”

A crash in the coffee-shop kitchen causes us both to jump. We look up to see that the register is unattended. A thin woman with severe makeup has replaced the man in the Valvoline cap. It could be the coffee, but I’m beginning to feel a little anxious myself.

“Go on,” my friend says.

“Well,” I say, “the next morning when I got home from work, same thing, a fine spray of blood everywhere.

I take a sip of my, now cold, espresso and glance at my watch.

“You’re not going to believe this”, I say, “but I was standing in the yard with Jasper, waiting for the police to arrive, when I noticed it - a steady dripping of blood from the tip of each of Jasper’s ears. As soon as I spotted the blood, Jasper gave a great shake of his head, and suddenly I looked like I’d wandered through a crime scene. Just guess what kind of dog Jasper is,” I say.

“Oh please, don’t tell me he’s a bloodhound,” my friend nearly hollers.

The coffee shop suddenly seems warm and inviting.

“You guessed it,” I say and we are still laughing as we stand up to leave.

“You know you’re right,” my friend says as we stroll down the sidewalk, “I don’t believe in ghosts either.”

-- Marilee Aufdenkamp teaches nursing for Creighton University. She and her husband, Elbert, own a Chicago-style hot dog mobile vending business.

You can catch her story "Genevieve and Rudy" in Volume 9 of Kansas City Voices. Order your copy today at http://www.kansascityvoices.com/

Call for Submissions-60 days left

2012-01-15T06:00:00.000-08:00

Don't miss your chance to appear in the 10th anniversary edition of Kansas City Voices. Send us your art work, poetry, and prose today. Go to http://www.kansascityvoices.com/ to submit your work.

KC Reading and Writing Events Roundup

2012-01-12T08:19:00.000-08:00

Top Pick:

When -
Friday, January 13, 2012, 8PM

Where -
The Writers Place 3607 Pennsylvania Kansas City, MO 64111

What -
POEMS! GOOD POEMS!:

MEGAN KAMINSKI’S first book of poetry, Desiring Map, is forthcoming from Coconut Books. She is also the author of three chapbooks, collection, Carry Catastrophe, and Across Soft Ruins. She teaches creative writing at the University of Kansas, where she directs the Creative Writing Exchange and the Undergraduate Reading Series. She also curates the Taproom Poetry Series in downtown Lawrence. WAYNE MILLER is the author of three collections of poems, The City, Our City, The Book of Props, and Only the Senses Sleep. He is also the translator of Moikom Zego’s I Don’t Believe in Ghosts, and a co-editor of both New European Poets and Tamura Ryuichi: On the Life & Work of a 20th Century Master. He lives in Kansas City and teaches at the University of Central Missouri, where he edits, Pleiades: A Journal of New Writing.

Other events:

Thursday, January 12, 2012, 7PM
Unity Temple 707 W. 47th St., KC, MO
$25 gets you Thomas Frank's new book, Pity the Billionaire: The Hard-Times Swindle and the Unlikely Comeback of the Right and a ticket to his appearance.
http://rainydaybooks.com/ThomasFrank

Sunday, January 15, 2012, 2pm
Central Library, KC, MO
Terence O’Malley discusses his new book Black Hand Strawman: The History of Organized Crime in Kansas City.
http://www.kclibrary.org/event/terence-o-malley-black-hand-strawman-history-organized-crime-kansas-city

“Savannah Road” by Erica L. Williams--Guest Blogger

2012-01-05T10:36:00.000-08:00

The following is an excerpt from Erica's novel-in-progress

The day after the accident, the evening news reported about a young college kid found on Savannah Road, the victim of a presumable hit and run.

“It’s a miracle he’s still alive,” said Alicia Summers, the modish reporter, a former patient. She came to me for counseling after discovering her husband was a cross dresser. I remembered Alicia’s husband sitting in a session, wearing one of her sexy black dresses and an Elvira wig, (now that his secret was out he had nothing to hide).

Alicia stood in front of a makeshift shrine on Savannah Road. A wider camera angle showed a smattering of people, and lilies and hydrangeas carefully arranged around an upright wood cross. An impromptu prayer vigil began. The screen flashed a picture of the victim wearing a baseball uniform. From the picture I could tell he used too much mousse in his hair. Otherwise his features were goofy, yet attractive: tussled brown hair, bushy eyebrows, long pointy noise with a pimple on the tip, and a smirk-mouth.

I’d learned quickly he was a starting pitcher for UNC-Chapel Hill, and would’ve been a shoo in as a first round draft pick. He was driving back to school when he ran out of gas and decided to walk to a station, only to become a victim of a vicious hit and run, hit so hard he was knocked out of his shoes. Newscasts urged body shops to be on alert for cars with unexplained front end body damage, and pleaded for witnesses or the perpetrator to come forward. Had I remained at the scene, I imagined what the headlines would’ve been. The Espy name splattered like blood on the page in a heap of disgrace.

Back in the newsroom, the anchor, a brown skinned man with a jazzy smile and demeanor to match, sprightly interviewed an ex-jailbird. The subject of conversation: the Second Chance Act that President Bush, signed into law earlier this year to provide funds to programs aimed at providing rehabilitating services to ex-offenders. ‘We believe that even those who have struggled with a dark past can find brighter days ahead,’ a grinning George W. said in a press conference flashback.

The newly released con aspired to become a productive member of society. Although society may be gracious enough to give him a second chance, I believed he would always be known as the guy who robbed a ninety-year-old woman point blank scaring her so bad she peed in her bloomers, (the old lady’s words). Marion Jones would not be remembered for the Sydney Olympics, but for the steroid scandal that sent her to the slammer. Vanessa Williams’ legacy, Ugly Betty, please, how about a pretty disgraced Miss America instead. As a therapist, I encouraged my clients to face their fears head on. Only cowards run away. Now when I looked in the mirror, a coward looked back.

--Erica L. Williams is a native of Baton Rouge, LA, and resides in Dallas, TX. She holds an MFA in Writing from Vermont College. She is currently in the revision stages of her novel-in-progress.

We are excited to feature Erica's work in the 9th Edition of Kansas City Voices. To get your copy click here.

"Teresa of Avila" by Celia Smith--Guest Blogger

2011-12-29T11:29:00.000-08:00

Celia Smith is a graduate of the University of Madrid, Spain. She sketches from nature and people, and composes paintings that tell stories, or impart feelings or ideas.

-- You may find more info about artist Celia Smith at: http://www.celiasmith.net/

You may see more of her art in Volume 9 of Kansas City Voices. Order your copy today at http://www.kansascityvoices.com/

We want to see what you've been working on.

2011-12-25T06:00:00.000-08:00

Don't forget to submit to Kansas City Voices for our 10th Anniversary edition. Go to http://www.kansascityvoices.com/ to send us your work today.

"Christmastime in South Florida" by Ethan Denault--Guest Blogger

2011-12-22T06:00:00.001-08:00

“I’ve always liked Christmas,” she said, hanging the last string of lights on the dying sago palm tree, “It’s the only holiday that makes a girl feel like a woman.”

He had no idea what she meant.

Overhead the sky was that south Florida blood-orange, the color it always was just before the sun fell beneath the horizon.

He stood on the front lawn in his boxers and an open bathrobe. He was holding a glass of red wine and hadn’t shaved all week. The writing was going horribly. He should have been a dentist like his brother.

“My mother is coming tomorrow,” she said, “We have to pick her up at the airport at eleven. Do you want to come?”

He looked at her.

“You don’t have to,” she continued, “I know you don’t like to go to the airport. If you want to come, I’m leaving here at ten.”

“I’ll stay,” he replied. He took a big gulp of the wine. It was that cheap boxed stuff – leftover from a gold exchange party she’d hosted last week.

He lit a cigarette.

“Oh Charlie, do you have to?” She implored.

“Just one,” he replied, “We agreed on one. Just like JFK Jr."

“Oh Charlie,” she began then stopped.

She walked down the cement walkway to the curb, then turned back to admire her handiwork with the sago palm.

“I think it looks just great,” she called, “It really spruces up the place. Don’t you just love the holidays?”

Charlie nodded.

“We’ll have so much fun,” she said, coming back up the walk, “It will be so much fun.”

Charlie finished the rest of his wine. Across the street Bill Cadkin was just getting home. The Cadkin’s lived in the big Art Deco place built back in the fifties by some famed Cuban architect Emmanuel de something or other.

“Hi Charles,” Bill called, just as the Cadkin brood came pouring out the front door to shrieking Daddy! All six of them came pouring out.

Charlie nodded and raised his empty wine glass.

Bill Cadkin didn’t notice.

Later, Charlie paused to catch a glimpse of her in the shower. Her body was very tan behind the frosted glass. He thought about her body and the sight of that body out on the patio in the afternoon sun; in the two-piece white bathing suit, the soft curves of her back glistening with coconut tanning oil; the smell of that coconut oil drifting through the kitchen where he worked hammering away on the old typewriter he’d picked up at a rummage sale in New Orleans thirty years ago; glancing at that body from time to time like a pervy old man. She was only twenty-seven years his junior. Age gaps like that happened all the time these days.

Outside the air was warm and the sky had turned to that peachy color that came after the blood-orange had become diluted with the steel blue that preceded the black. Charlie stood on the front lawn. Somewhere there was a police siren. It wailed for a while then grew faint and eventually trailed off in the distance.

Charlie lit another cigarette. He was fifty-nine year old - sixty in three months. He figured he had another fifteen to go.

And fifteen to go before I sleep, he thought, Fifteen to go before I sleep.

––Ethan Denault is 28 years old, dirt poor, and just likes to write, travel and fish.

We are proud to showcase Ethan's work in Volume 8 of Kansas City Voices. Order your copy today at: http://www.kansascityvoices.com/

"The Christmas Anarchist" by Jessica Conoley--Guest Blogger

2011-12-15T06:00:00.000-08:00

“What’s your favorite Christmas movie?”

“Die Hard.”

“That’s not a Christmas movie, it’s a crappy 80s Bruce Willis action film.”

“Um, it’s an awesome 80s Bruce Willis action film -– and it’s a Christmas movie.”

“No, I’m talking about Christmas movies, like: A Christmas Story, or Miracle on 34th Street, The Charlie Brown Christmas Special.”

“I know what you’re talking about, but I never saw that Christmas story movie. I just know a kid gets his tongue stuck to a pole, and that completely grosses me out. Miracle on 34th Street just seems like a bad trip-–little girls hearing angel bells, Jimmy Stewart on a really bad trip.”

“That’s so sad.”

“Sad? Which part?"

“The Die Hard part.”

“Have you seen it? It’s totally set on Christmas.”

“Just because a movie is set on Christmas doesn’t make it a Christmas movie.”

“There’s Christmas music, Christmas lights, I’m pretty sure I remember seeing a tree. There are definitely bad sweaters. Christmas is all about bad sweaters.”

“No it’s not! It’s about family, and snow flakes. Christmas trees, and baby Jesus.”

“You’re telling me no one wears bad sweaters at your house on Christmas?”

“NO! Well, yes... But that’s not the point. The point is the Christmas
movie. The one’s that make you think of your family, and count your blessings.”

“Die Hard always makes me most appreciative I’m not being held hostage. And really glad I have good shoes. It also makes me feel blessed I’m not at a company Christmas party. That’s how the whole thing starts– they’re at a company Christmas party. Only now they’d call it a Holiday party, but in the 80s I think they were still Christmas parties.”

“Seriously!”

“Yeah, seriously. And, Bruce Willis could totally kick Santa’s ass.”

“No one is supposed to kick Santa’s ass!”

“Yeah well no one’s supposed to break into your house and eat your cookies, but you don’t seem too concerned about that.”

--Jessica Conoley is an Executive Board Member of Whispering Prairie Press and editor for Kansas City voices. To read more of her work check out http://www.fightingthekcboredom.blogspot.com/.

"Affectionately Yours" -- by Devyani Borade

2011-12-01T06:00:00.000-08:00

My dear friend,

I don’t know how you are or where, but I hope you’re doing fine. We may have lost touch with each other for some time now, but I haven’t forgotten you, I never will. I don’t know what keeps you from writing to me or calling me, but for both our sakes, I hope it is a good enough reason for breaking off that wonderful relationship we shared for a brief period of time in the past – our friendship.

I have come to realise now, that friendship is a burden more than anything else. Though I have been fortunate to include you in its folds, I think that the shoulders of all are not meant to be strong enough to carry its responsibilities. I believe friendship is for the keeps. I want to be able to depend on my friends. I want to be able to trust them. And I want to be a good friend to them in return. Perhaps these expectations of mine are difficult to keep. Perhaps I ask for too much. I don’t know.

If our friendship has lost out to time, fading away over the years, I have no regrets. It happens. Probably you and I have been so busy with our respective lives that we haven’t been able to make the time to remain in touch with each other. But if our friendship could simply not withstand the rigours of distance or clashes of ego, then I have much to grieve for. I cannot understand why things have to be like this. After all, everyone says that the world grows smaller everyday. So it must be true that you are, in a way, closer to me today than you were ever before. And yet, I don’t see you, don’t get to hear from you, can’t have your company. For all I know, you may be living right next door to me, or across the seven seas. Space gets blurred.

I have spent many an idle moment thinking about you, wondering what you must be doing at that point of time. I have felt angry and hurt when you would actually refute, leave alone reciprocate, my attempts at being a part of your life again, however small that part might be. I rue the fact that I have not had the courage to demand your time like the old days. I rue the fact that I have not had the patience or perseverance to persist in renewing the old ties. I rue the fact that the bond that tied us together during good times and bad, today lies withered.

Yet, I cherish the times that we did get to spend in each other's company! I hope that sometime somewhere in the future, our paths do cross again, if only for a moment or two.

And I remain,

Affectionately yours.

--Devyani Borade writes on the humour and pathos of everyday life. Visit her website Verbolatry at http://devyaniborade.blogspot.com to contact her and read her work

You can see more of Devyani's work in Volume 9 of Kansas City Voices. Order your copy today at http://www.kansascityvoices.com/05subscriptions/subscribe.shtml

"Evening Slipper" by Norma Herring--Guest Blogger

2011-11-24T06:00:00.000-08:00

The watercolor "Evening Slipper" depicts the Showy Lady Slipper (also called Orchid of the North) growing wild by native Aspen trees near her summer lake home in NW Ontario, Canada. This finely detailed painting took five months to complete and was featured in the 2011 Watercolor USA exhibit at the Springfield, MO Art Museum. It received a Purchase Award by the museum and is now part of their permanent collection.

--Norma Herring is a local and national award winning watercolor artist from Leawood, KS.
View her work at www.normaherring.com or www.imagesartgallery.org. Contact her: normaherring@kc.rr.com.

You can see her work in Volumes 8 & 9 of Kansas City Voices. Order your copies today at www.kansascityvoices.com

"ON PLAYING AN ICON" by Charles Leggett*--Guest Blogger

2011-11-17T06:00:00.000-08:00

One of the first people I told that a poem of mine would appear in Kansas City Voices was “Big Tall” Jim Gall. A Kansas City native, Jim was then playing the role of Slim—magnificently—in the Seattle Repertory Theatre’s production of Of Mice and Men; I was playing Lennie. Jim’s a regular at Kansas City Rep, returning yearly to play the Ghost of Christmas Present in A Christmas Carol. “Can you feel the world shrinking?” I wrote to poetry co-editor Maril Crabtree, as I told her about Jim—and the fact that I’d played the very same Dickens Ghost no fewer than six times for Seattle’s A Contemporary Theatre!

An epigraph precedes “Lost Love Blues,” the poem of mine appearing in Kansas City Voices—a brilliant remark by blues icon “Big Bill” Broonzy, who was hitting his stride with Bluebird Records in 1937, when Of Mice and Men was published. The Seattle Rep communications staff, meanwhile, had asked me to write something…

“On Playing an Icon”

Funny thing about icons—we all know them, yes, but for all their ubiquity it’s a long arm’s length at which we hold them. Half an analogy: the moon yields much, when invited, to a telescope. This only, however, of its surface; what of what lies underneath? And science would yield much in this regard, in the cases of both Lennie and the moon. But the moon is, on average, 238, 857 miles away, and Lennie is an icon.

This is where the imagination comes into play: the text provides the surface; what lies underneath it bubbles up through the surface in the rehearsal hall, and impels the choices that lead toward an interpretation.

Because of that long arm’s length at which an icon is held, one’s immersion into what is actually there, in the text, affords rich surprise. The task, after all, is the same as with any role in any play. Once one is given over to the nut-and-bolts of scene-work, of building with one’s colleagues the arc of the story, with its often violent confluence and refraction of motives, any concerns about iconography slip away, are dissolved into one’s sheer appetite for the work, like a calorie-count at Thanksgiving dinner.

In my conversations with people who work with folks facing the challenges Lennie faces, I am repeatedly, fiercely admonished that beneath a social surface—of rhythms, comprehension and memory—that differs from ours and betrays what appear to be limitations, the fires that burn and the complications that arise are one and the same. Don’t you dare sell him short, they seem to say—and not because he’s an icon, but because he’s very much flesh and blood.

Yearning. Anger. Fear of abandonment. Delight in the world of the senses. Sound familiar? Icons themselves, these are; rooted by this play in the fertile soil of the particular, and no further away than our skin.

*On Playing an Icon" originally appeared on the Seattle Repertory Theatre website/blog in February/March 2011.

--Charles Leggett's poetry can currently be found online at Barnwood Press (mag; "Great Finds" series) and Liquid Imagination (Issue #10).

Be sure to check out "Love Lost Blues" in the latest edition of Kansas City Voices. Order your copies here.

Call for Submissions.

2011-11-14T19:18:00.000-08:00

Kansas City Voices is now accepting submissions for our 10th anniversary edition. Go to http://www.kansascityvoices.com/ to send us your work today.

Hope to see you this Saturday at the Johnson County Library

2011-11-10T06:00:00.000-08:00

Join us for the Kansas City Voices Volume 9 Literary Launch this Saturday

Meet our cover artist Janet Satz, and listen to the writings of: Dawn Downey, Jack Kline, Priscilla Wilson, & Jan Duncan-O'Neal

We'll be at the Johnson County KS Public Library-Main Branch (9875 W. 87th St, Overland Park, KS) from 1 pm - 3:30 pm.

For the most up to date info friend Whispering Prairie Press on facebook. Or subscribe to our blog by entering your email address in the upper right hand corner of this page.

We hope to see you there, and don't forget our submissions period for Volume 10 begins November 15, 2011.

Hope to see you today.

2011-11-06T09:03:00.000-08:00

If you don't have plans this afternoon come join us at the KCMO Public Library-Plaza Branch from 2 pm-4 pm. (4801 Main Street, Kansas City, MO). Our Art Launch for volume 9 features the talent of: Caleb Harman, Robert Chrisman, Anne Wickliffe, Mike Lyon, and Celia Smith.

Hope to see you there, and if you can't make it today join us next Saturday for the Kansas Literary Launch.

"Mother and Child" by Stella Robbins--Guest Blogger

2011-11-03T06:00:00.000-07:00

Stella Robbins paints and writes from Topeka, Kansas. She is a published poet and illustrator with a home studio: stellart47.blogspot.com

We are excited to feature Stella in Volume 9 of Kansas City Voices. Order your copy today by clicking here.

Save the date for Kansas City Voices Volume 9 Launch-2 weeks from today

2011-10-23T06:00:00.000-07:00

We're so excited about this years edition of Kansas City Voices we're doing two launches. We hope to see you at one (or both) of the events.

Kansas City Voices Art Launch

featuring: Caleb Harman, Robert Chrisman, Anne Wickliffe, Mike Lyon, and Celia Smith

Sunday, November 6, 2011

2 pm-4 pm

KCMO Public Library-Plaza Branch

4801 Main Street, Kansas City, MO

Kansas City Voices Literary Launch

featuring: Dawn Downey, Jack Kline, Priscilla Wilson, Jan Duncan-O'Neal, and Janet Satz

Saturday, November 12, 2011

1 pm -3:30 pm

Johnson County KS Public Library-Main Branch

9875 W. 87th St, Overland Park, KS

For the most up to date info friend Whispering Prairie Press on facebook. Or subscribe to our blog by entering your email address in the upper right hand corner of this page.

We hope to see you there, and don't forget our submissions period for Volume 10 begins November 15, 2011.

"Burying" by Jack Kline––Guest Blogger

2011-10-20T06:00:00.000-07:00

Three weeks ago today, we euthanized my daughter Rebecca’s old paint mare, Lady. She was over a hundred human years so she lived a full life. Lady’s coat was beige with a hint of rust and she carried haphazard white splotches as if someone had stood back and flung a bucket of house paint on her. Her mane and tail were a shade of strawberry blonde that many women would pay top dollar to duplicate. As a girl, Rebecca proudly rode her in horse shows, competitive trail rides, parades and while racing barrels and bending poles.

The last few years Lady’s health declined and she defined the cliché put out to pasture. She ate grass and grain with her two younger companions Red and Pepper and just lazed about. The time arrived when Lady could no longer stand on her own. I carefully planned the process. A neighboring vet would meet me in the pasture and euthanize Lady, and then another neighbor would arrive, backhoe her grave and bury her in a special spot there. Nothing went as it should have, neither the process nor my reaction to it. Once the burial slogged to a conclusion I did what I do with the pain of grief, I capsulated it and buried it as deep inside as I was able.

Today, three weeks to the day afterward, with my shovel in hand I walked to the other end of the pasture near the woods and the giant cottonwood where I dug another grave. Our 13 year-old Lab mix Izzy rapidly succumbs to cancer. Izzy too has had a full, wonderful life. She has never worn a collar, or been trapped inside a fence – an advantage of living in the country. Izzy and our other dogs often went walkabout all day, returning home with burrs and scratched noses. The cancer must have spread to her stomach, as she now eats only occasional morsels. The pain she feels reflects in her sad eyes and her tail wags feebly.

For the first time last winter we fed birds with a feeder and a silt block. They flocked to us in growing numbers and it was a joy to watch them, especially in the snow. Today they repaid me. As I dug Izzy’s grave they gathered in the cottonwood to serenade me. It was not the chatter of sparrows, but rather the melodies and harmonies of countless species of song birds. Their beautiful music allowed me a focal point other than the task. They held off my tears.

Tomorrow I will take Izzy to our vet and stroke her as her life is ended. We will go home together, Izzy and I, only this time instead of running back and forth in the bed of the pick-up she will lie peacefully. While the other dogs remain inside the house I will bury my Izzy and then my feelings. That’s the way men were raised in my day. And afterwards I will feed the birds.

––Jack Kline lives with his family, dogs and horses near Louisburg, Kansas. His book Blowing Carbon (2009) is available on Amazon. Learn more at: http://jackkline.squarespace.com

One of Jack’s stories appeared in Kansas City Voices, Volume VII and another will appear in Volume IX. Come get your copy of Volume VII for just $5 when you hear Jack read at our launch on November 12 at the Johnson County, KS public library. Or order your copy today at http://www.kansascityvoices.com

Did you miss an issue of Kansas City Voices?

2011-10-16T23:39:00.000-07:00

Volume 9 is back from the printers and will be on sale shortly. And while we're very excited about this issue, we also want to make sure you have the opportunity to catch up on some of our past issues.

Starting immediately you can get past issues of Kansas City Voices (Volumes 1-8, while supplies last) for just $5 a magazine. For $10 we'll let you take home three editions.

We will have issues available for sale at our launch events. (November 6 at the Plaza branch of the KCMO public library and November 12th at the Johnson County, KS public library.) Or click here to mail in for a copy.

Thank you for your continued support over the past 9 years.

“The Knob” by Judith Bader Jones––Guest Blogger

2011-10-06T06:00:00.000-07:00

“The Knob”
For Michael

On left over days
I go to your room,
grasp the knob
on your door.
to feel something of you
cupped in my hand,
left molded in metal,
chilled by the still
resigned in the silence
held in this knob
the touch of your hand.

The Light in Ordinary Things, Fearless Poetry Series, Vol. I

––Judith Bader Jones, poet, lives in Fairway, Kansas. Her collection of short fiction, Delta Pearls received the William Rockhill Nelson 2007 Fiction award. Moon Flowers on the Fence, a chapbook of poems was published by Finishing Line Press, 2010. The Language of Small Rooms, is slated for publication by Finishing Line Press, August 2011. Jones is an avid bird watcher and photographer and can be found on Facebook and www.judithbaderjones.com

"Accident" by Ann Otto––Guest Blogger

2011-09-29T06:42:00.000-07:00

I’m sitting in the swing on my grandparents’ front porch on Bannister Road in south Kansas City. My toes tap against the concrete floor to push the swing back and forth as I sip sweet iced tea, count the cars that go by -- 50 -- 100 - 150 – and watch for the shiny black Mercury coupe that will soon slow and turn into the gravel drive – Granddaddy coming home. I am six years old and taking a break from watering the zinnias in the flower garden at the side of the house.

Nanny, my grandmother, who has just finished reading me the Sunday funnies as she does every weekend until miraculously one day I can read them myself, cooks fried chicken and green beans with bacon over the old gas stove in the kitchen. Muggins, the yellow cat, who is the subject of Granddaddy’s countless tall tales, weary from poking around the cornrows in the garden where I sometimes play hide and seek, picks his way up the porch steps to huddle in my lap. He’s Granddaddy’s cat and never as comfortable when Granddaddy isn’t there.

I swing and tap, swing and tap and sip my iced tea until his car catches my attention, slowing as it reaches the gravel driveway. Granddaddy’s arm flings out the car window to signal, but the car turns too sharply, then plunges headlong into the ditch along the front yard. I stop swinging, rise in what seems like slow motion, and scream helplessly, “Nanny! Nanny! Granddaddy…” but I can say no more, just point frantically. Nanny is hard of hearing but somehow she hears me calling and I see her standing at the screen door, her face as white as the apron she uses to dry her hands. She tells me, “Run next door, tell Bobby to call the doctor,” and races down the hilly yard to Granddaddy. I leave my iced tea sweating on the porch by the still moving swing and speed across the wide side lawn hollering, “Granddaddy’s in an accident. Granddaddy’s in an accident.”

I don’t remember anything else about that day, just the nightmarish quality of it. Granddaddy survived but he was injured and walked with a cane the rest of his life. My mother said he was never really the same, not the strong, proud man I remember and still see in old photos of him. A few years later he retired and spent his days sitting in his big wing chair in the living room smoking his pipe and spitting tobacco juice in the coffee can on the floor, his sparkle vanished. And he didn’t tell me stories about Muggins anymore.

It has been 64 years, but I can still see myself, standing at the edge of the porch, my mouth opened wide in a soundless scream, fear coursing through my body that Granddaddy won’t come out of that car, alive.

––Ann Otto writes essays and memoir.

Her essay, Remembering Prairie, was published in Kansas City Voices, Volume 6. Order your copy today for only $5 at http://www.kansascityvoices.com/05subscriptions/subscribe.shtml

Save the Date for our Volume 9 Launch 11/12/2011

2011-09-26T06:00:00.000-07:00

We sent everything off to the printer last week, and put the finishing touches on our Kansas launch event this week. In mere weeks you can have the latest edition of Kansas City Voices in your hands.

Now it's time for you to look at your calendar and see if you can join us for our Volume 9 launch. We'll be at the Johnson County Central Library on November 12, 2011 from 1 pm -3:30 pm to celebrate and hope you will join us.

For the most up to date info friend Whispering Prairie Press on facebook or subscribe to this blog via e-mail (in the upper right hand corner of this page).

Hope to see you there.

"Don’t Call Me Grandma" by Jan Duncan-O'Neal––Guest Blogger*

2011-09-22T06:05:00.000-07:00

Don't Call Me Grandma

Mom Rose pinned up the straps

of her slinky black nightgown
when I slipped it on
one summer night
to dance around
her long living room.

“I don’t look old enough
to be your grandma,”
she winked,
poured me Coca Cola
in a fluted wine glass,

told me stories
about her tippling days
spent in a speakeasy.

I only half believed this true—
but Mom Rose could charm
the skin right off a fox
to wear over her white shoulders.

One Saturday noon
she took me nightclubbing,
ordered Shirley Temples, flashed
her Mrs.Gotrocks diamond ring,
hinted it was the gift from
her Personal Dentist.

At ten,
even I knew dentists didn’t give just anybody
prizes like that for being a good girl
in the dentist’s chair.

*This poem was originally published in The Mid-America Poetry Review, Volume VI, No. 1

––Jan Duncan-O'Neal is an editor for I-70 Review. Her chapbook Voices: Lost and Found will be published by The Lives You Touch Publications, autumn 2011. Her poems have appeared in such journals as Coal City Review, The Mid-America Poetry Review, Kansas City Voices, I-70 Review, and Touch: The Journal of Healing. Check out her biography and announcement for her chapbook on www.thelivesyoutouch.com under the heading "New 2011 Chapbook Publications Schedule.

We are thankful of Jan's support over the years. Not only has she served on the board of Whispering Prairie Press, she has contributed to Kansas City Voices. You can check out her work in Volume 7. Order your issue today for only $5 at http://www.kansascityvoices.com/05subscriptions/backissues.shtml

"Changing Seasons" by Polly Swafford––Guest Blogger

2011-09-15T05:32:00.000-07:00

Writing Haiku

Watching for a haiku moment is a real joy. Japanese haiku, which I like to emulate, includes two images in juxtaposition often with a reference to the seasons or nature. Each poem needs to leave the reader with a “moment of ah.”

The following sequence is from my chap book Early Freeze, 2010, Finishing Line Press.

Changing Seasons
(Haiku Sequence)

on my knees
planting sunflower seeds—
earth worm awakens

bedtime
whippoorwill’s call floats
through the window

red leaves fall
black birds chatter
in the corn field

icy streets—
clearing to-do piles
from my desk

––Polly Swafford writes haiku, creative non-fiction and memoir. Her chapbook, Early Freeze, is available at Amazon.com and at Rainy Day Books.

Her award-winning works have been published in Acorn, Bogg, Frogpond, Horse & Rider, Kansas City Voices, Mennonite Magazine, Mid-America Poetry Review, Modern Haiku, Ozark Mountaineer, The Best Times, The Kansas City Star, The Same, Thorny Locust, and the anthologies Water and Rock, Loose Change and A Travel-Worn Satchel.

We were proud to feature Polly in Volume 4 of Kansas City Voices. Her writing is so good, we sold out of Volume 4! Be sure to check out other other past volumes on sale for just $5 at http://www.kansascityvoices.com/05subscriptions/subscribe.shtml

Hope to see you on Sunday.

2011-09-08T06:00:00.000-07:00

If you don't have plans this Sunday come out and enjoy the talents of: John Peterson, Alarie Tennille, Lisa Daly, and Jack Kline at Naomi's Hallmark.

Kansas City Voices has scheduled a reading from 4-6 pm at the largest Hallmark store in the US. (Not only do you get to hear some great literature you can also save a little money, because the owner's, Larry and Terry Benson, are offering a 20% discount to guests for an hour during our event.)

Naomi's Hallmark is located at 12128 Shawnee Mission Parkway in Shawnee, Kansas. (North of S.M. Pkwy and just west of Quivira.) We hope to see you there.

Featured Talent: Alarie Tennille at Naomi's Hallmark 9/11/2011

2011-09-01T06:00:00.000-07:00

Éléphants Nageurs
by Alarie Tennille

The camera man shoots up

at the feet of elephants

swimming by. On their faces

joy and surprise that the burden

of gravity has been lifted.

Their trunks curl upward

snorkeling air and waving

hallelujah like a gospel choir.

The program is in French,

but no translation is needed.

Nor could any language

explain why they’d obey

the command to come ashore.

––Alarie Tennille is a Pushcart Prize nominee. She serves on the Board of Directors

of The Writers Place in Kansas City, Missouri. Her chapbook, Spiraling into Control, is available on Amazon.com. Alarie’s poems have appeared in numerous journals including Margie, Poetry East, ByLine Magazine, Coal City Review, I-70 Review, and The Little Balkans Review. Learn more about her chap book at http://www.thelivesyoutouch.com/touchjournal/Publications/Tennille.html

We are excited to feature Alarie at our upcoming reading. Join us from 4-6 pm on 9/11/2011 at Naomi's Hallmark to hear more of her work.

Featured Talent: Jack Kline at Naomi's Hallmark 9/11/2011

2011-08-25T06:00:00.002-07:00

Frost and Fire (especially the latter)

by Jack Kline

My ancient Ford tractor lies dead in the pasture. I need it to finish the pasture mowing and for some light grading around our new garage. It won’t start. I’ve coaxed and cussed and fiddled and it won’t start. In keeping with Mr. Murphy’s Law, it sits far from shade and it’s been over 100 degrees for more than a week, with wind chills in the one-teens.

Each morning I traipse out into the swelter with a new idea, and each sweaty day it fails. Today, my fuzzied and fried brain took me back to when I was thirteen, reading a collection of Ray Bradbury’s short stories. One of my favorites, “Frost and Fire” popped into my head as the temperature climbed.

“Frost and Fire” follows a race of humans trapped on Mercury. Placed there by a rocket ship that crashed in the distant past, the people are stranded in a cave within sight of another rocket ship on a distant mountain plateau. The plot follows Sim, the story’s protagonist, and his short life on a planet where people are cursed by super-radiated metabolism caused by the sun’s proximity to be born, grow up, grow old and die in only eight days.

The people of this planet are also gifted with a kind of racial memory (they retain their ancestors' memories). Reaching the sole remaining rocket ship is futile because it must be reached in one hour, which is the longest length of time between day and night (one deadly hot and the other deadly cold). Sim, motivated by his dwindling days, makes it his goal to use the accumulated wisdom of his race to try and make it to the ship.

I read this story more than forty years ago and it still sticks with me. It rests prominently on my life’s list of great short stories.

Early tomorrow, as night evolves into day, armed with new plugs and a distributor kit, Sim and I will try to reach our spaceship and fire it up.

––Jack Kline lives with his family, dogs and horses near Louisburg, Kansas. One of Jack’s stories appeared in Kansas City Voices, Volume VII and another will appear in Volume IX this fall. His book Blowing Carbon (2009) is available on Amazon. Learn more at: http://jackkline.squarespace.com

We are excited to feature Jack at our upcoming reading. Join us from 4-6 pm on 9/11/2011 at Naomi's Hallmark.

Hope to see you on Thursday.

2011-08-22T06:00:00.000-07:00

Carole Katsantoness has arranged a very special reading at the Webster House. We hope to see you at 6 pm, 17th & Wyandotte in Kansas City, MO.

Featured Talent: John Peterson at Naomi's Hallmark 9/11/2011

2011-08-18T06:00:00.000-07:00

Metaphysics and the Extension Service
by John Peterson

You let the bluegills have their way,
said Mrs. Becker, the county extension agent,
you give them everything bluegills want,
and you’ll have a lot of bluegills.
Oh, you’ll have a lot of bluegills.

There won’t be any size to them.
You won’t have fun catching them.
No, she said, to make bluegills worth the fishing
you need something to kill bluegills.
You need large mouth bass.

Well, isn’t it just our old reliable partner,
annihilation, this time a fish-faced aspect of the destroyer god,
but its opposite as well — better angling?
I considered writing an article on farm ponds
but couldn’t decide whether to focus

on bass or bluegills, destroyer or creator,
then I remembered watery places hidden in open country,
kids sitting on a limestone pillar
in a quarry filled with deep, deep blue water,
and how Rachel stripped and let swarms of tiny sunfish

nibble the fine hairs on her legs,
and how at the end of summer she broke up with me.
I was destroyed, and I was elated.
That reminded me I should write a poem
about love and its opposite, love,

which brought up other old projects —
a long piece on childhood, all those improbable novels,
a new patio with mosaics, my blueprints
for the world’s first submarine canoe —
too many plans bumping around in my head losing energy and size.

I need the equivalent of large mouth bass,
an idea killer, a new religion or an old certainty,
a throwing-away machine of some kind.
Or be glad for tiny sunfish, considering Mrs. Becker’s strategy
when all else fails — start over, drain the pond.

––John Peterson has worked as a newspaper reporter, a creative writer for Hallmark Cards for nearly 20 years, and currently as a freelance copywriter. His poetry and fiction have been published in Poet & Critic magazine, The Wapsipinicon Almanac (http://www.wapsialmanac.com/), and other small journals. He lives in Kansas City, MO, with his wife and critters.

We are excited to feature John at our upcoming reading. Join us from 4-6 pm on 9/11/2011 at Naomi's Hallmark to hear more of his work.

"An Elephant's Eye" by Christina Pacosz––Guest Blogger

2011-08-15T07:37:00.000-07:00

(Excerpt from a nonfiction manuscript in progress.)

“She wanted to go into the corn,” I would write decades later, forgetting the night my sister and I had done just that. We had walked into the July corn tall as an elephant’s eye - with apologies to Oscar Hammerstein - fireflies electrifying the green gloom, and parted rustling cornrows until we found an open spot, just big enough to spread two sleeping bags. We had been hitchhiking without mishap, some might say, though there had been a close call, or two, since Portland, Oregon, and we were now about to “camp” for the night in a cornfield just off Interstate 80 in Iowa.

"A circle, remember?" We both lay in our bags and watched the stars emerge above us. The thought of a circle no matter where you might be was comforting. Like a bedtime story. I had read many of those to her when she was small.

Look up, I told her, and there it is. And, most importantly, you are in it.

Like she and I were in the corn that night, ignoring mosquitoes and spiders, but unable to ignore the rain pelting us awake. We packed up as best we could and sloshed out of the field back toward the highway. There were no fireflies to light our way now, only a summer downpour, thick as Karo syrup. I checked my watch; it wasn’t even 4 AM.

“Help me spread the tarp and we’ll get under it and wait for the sun to come up.”

My sister, nine years younger than I, was fifteen that summer, and would turn sixteen in mid-September. I was supposed to be the big sister with a plan. We sat huddled on the bit of raised cement not far from a freeway entrance. Then we heard it: the unmistakable roar of a Detroit engine. The first car to pass us in the rainy dark. It slowed; we listened to it backing up. Our eyes widened in surprise. Now what?

I knew I had to get out and confront whoever was behind that wheel. A dangerous being. Who else would be on this highway at this time of night in such a downpour?

“Stay under that tarp and don’t move. I’ll handle this.”

I stood up in the pouring rain. The car, I would later learn, was rat-colored, like Hazel Motes’ car in Flannery O’Connor’s classic novel Wise Blood. A male voice said something like Get in or maybe it was Going my way but I firmly replied No thanks. I didn’t let out the breath I was holding until that terrible car speeded out of sight.

Then I crawled back under the tarp and took out a chocolate bar I had been saving in my pack.

“Breakfast,” I announced in as cheery a voice as I could manage.

Afterwards, our lips sticky from chocolate, we each lit a cigarette, one from the other and watched the sun come up. We inhaled smoke and hoped our luck would turn.

––Christina Pacosz recently read her poetry at the 2011 Montserrat Poetry Festival in Missouri, the third year for her participation. Check out her chapbook Notes from the Red Zone, which won the inaugural Rebound Prize from Seven Kitchens in 2009. Learn more at
http://sevenkitchenspress.wordpress.com/our-authors/christina-pacosz/
or
http://www.fieralingue.it/modules/poemreviews/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=265

We are proud to showcase Christina's work in Volume 5 of Kansas City Voices. Order your copy today for just $5 at: http://www.kansascityvoices.com/

Congratulations to Lawrence and Suella Walsh on the release of "Bridge"

2011-08-11T06:00:00.000-07:00

One of the great things about being a small press is you get to know the writers you work with. As we approach our 10th year Whispering Prairie Press has seen many of our past board members, editors, and contributors move on to great things. Larry and Suella Walsh have supported Kansas City Voices from the very beginning.

We wanted to take a moment to thank Larry & Suella for the contributions to Kansas City Voices over the years and congratulate them on the release of their 11th novel– Bridge.

About Bridge:

Brian Donaldson is born into a world of violence. His parents are murdered when he is seven, and he spends the rest of his childhood under an assumed identity, in hiding. Samantha Dolan Brown is born into magic. She learns at an early age that she has mystical powers, but behind this gift is something dark, something hidden. The villain, Enos Jubal, lives to kill. He has been conjured from the past and is tasked by a shadowy organization to hunt down and kill Brian and gain control of Samantha.

As Brian and Samantha learn more about themselves, they conclude that they have lived before and are two parts of an intricate plan—an age-old plan. Something of grave significance is about to happen, and only they have the power to stop it. Together they must face the killer, uncover a secret society, control the forces of nature, and discover the meaning of the bridge. Can they accomplish so much?

Samantha knows her powers are strong, but something tells her Brian is the key to unlock her true potential. It is more than a romance. It is the hand of fate, the call of destiny.

––Lawrence and Suella Walsh, www.walshwritingservices.com, taught writing classes at Johnson County Community College for twenty years and edited novels for Goldminds Publications for five years. They are frequent contributors to Writers’ Journal Magazine, providing articles on how-to-write fiction. They have presented at twenty writers’ conferences and in addition, have taken five-minutes pitches for Goldminds Publications at the Oklahoma Writers’ Conference and the Missouri Writers’ Guild Conference. They are the founding editors of Red Herring Mystery Magazine and Kansas City Voices Magazine. In 2007, they received the honor of being nominated for the Excellence in the Arts Award in Kansas; only five nominees were chosen. Currently they are under contract with Mid-Continent Public Libraries to provide writing workshops for the 29 libraries in their system. Fiction is the love of their lives, and Bridge is their eleventh published book.

Join Kansas City Voices at Naomi's Hallmark. Sunday, September 11, 2011 4-6 pm

2011-08-08T06:00:00.000-07:00

What's more Kansas City then Hallmark? Hallmark plus Kansas City Voices.

Naomi's Hallmark is opening their doors to the public for a reading featuring talent from Kansas City Voices on Sunday, September 11–from 4-6 pm.

Come out and enjoy the talents of: John Peterson, Alarie Tennille, Lisa Daly, and Jack Kline.

Be sure to check out the largest Hallmark store in the US, because the owner's (Larry and Terry Benson) are offering refreshments and a 20% discount to guests for an hour during our reading.

Naomi's Hallmark is located at 12128 Shawnee Mission Parkway in Shawnee, Kansas. (North of S.M. Pkway and just west of Quivira.) We hope to see you there.

Featured Talent: Peg Nichols at the Webster House 8/25/2011

2011-08-04T06:08:00.000-07:00

"Goodbye, Walker"
by Peg Nichols

Today my left shoulder
began to complain
about all the work
it has to do.

I never expected shirking
from another body part.
I thought we were all
in the struggle together.

Is this a telegraph message
from left arm to right knee?
Quit depending on me
To push your walker around.

––Despite her wicked pleasure at re-telling the childish antics of a mischievous cousin in Grasshopper Summer, Peg Nichols has a serious side (too serious, B. Chrisman might say).

“Goodbye, Walker” was published in Tallgrass Voices, an anthology of 20 Kansas poets by Hill Song Press. “Goodbye, Walker” first appeared in I Knee-ded It, poetry of preparation for and recovery from knee surgery.

Peg is also the author of Mediation Survivors Handbook (www.mediationhandbook.com), a guidebook for individuals who may become involved in mediation.

We are proud to feature Peg at our upcoming reading August 25, 2011, 6 pm at the Webster House in Kansas City, MO.

And the winners are...

2011-08-02T14:19:00.000-07:00

Results

Whispering Prairie Press 2011 Writing Awards

Poetry

1^st Place Melissa Grossman, Simi Valley, CA. “Driving Home”

2^nd Place Sheri Pattillo, Kerrville, TX. “When It All Slipped Out”

3^rd Place Stacy Post, Danville, IN. “Surviving the Eclipse”

Honorable Mentions (in alphabetical order, not ranked)

Jim Barton, Huttig, AR. “A Letter to Mr. Van Gogh: Sunflowers”

Valerie Brown-Kuchera, Quinter, KS. “Graphology of My Loves”

Susan Carman, Overland Park, KS. “Silent Witness”

Linda Joyce Clements, Kennesaw, GA. “The Choir”

Donna Coffey, Waleska, GA. “Playing Orphan”

Elizabeth Drewry, Landrum, SC. “At the DMV”

Gail Eisenhart, Belleville, IL “Fall-tering”

Geneva King Emerson, Smithville, AR. “Changing Mood”

Patricia Frolander, Sundance, WY. “The Granery”

Patricia Frolander, Sundance, WY. “Saying Goodbye to Daddy”

Patricia Frolander, Sundance, WY. “The Last Ride”

Melissa Grossman, Simi Valley, CA. “Morning Paper”

Robin Hellard, Batavia, IL. “Stranded Fist”

Carolyn Hoppe, Kansas City, MO. “How”

Thomas Quinn Kumpf, Boulder, CO. “Fall of Wishes”

Patricia A. Laster, Benton, AR. “Window Weights”

Patricia A. Laster, Benton, AR. “The Unraveling”

Ellaraine Lockie, Sunnyvale, CA. “Airing Dirty Laundry”

Catherine Wald, Mohegan Lake, NY. “Big Rabbit Drive Sunday: Bring Clubs”

Thelma Zirkelback, Houston, TX. “End and Beginning”

Essay

1^st Place Leslie Tucker, Landrum, SC. “Reunion”

2^nd Place JLSchneider, Ellenville, NY. “The Bridge”

3^rd Place Cheryl L. Sears, Portland, OR. “The Amputee Hamster”

Honorable Mentions (in alphabetical order, not ranked)

Joan Brown, Steilacoom, WA. “The ‘Stress’ Room”

Shannon Cavanaugh, Folly Beach, SC. “Death on a Creek Bank”

Yolanda DeLoach, Wausau, WI. “A Time for Solitude”

Yolanda DeLoach, Wausau, WI. “Planting Seeds in the Old House”

Gerry Rita Di Gesu, West Chatham, MA. “Wind Chimes”

Sylvia Forbes, Fayette, MO. “Grandma’s Daylilies”

Norm Ledgin, Stanley, KS. “It’s Ten P.M.”

Karen Nelson, Kissee Mills, MO. “An Ozarks’ Perspective”

Linda Ruhle, Worland, WY. “Welcome Change”

Don Scheer, Boynton Beach, FL. “Twinkle, Twinkle”

Flash Fiction

1^st Place JLSchneider, Ellenville, NY. “The Taste of Dreams”

2^nd Place Susan Varno, Dolph, AR. “Pop-up Dreams”

3^rd Place Jane P. Hill, Hilton Head, SC. “No Time Like the Present”

Honorable Mentions (in alphabetical order, not ranked)

Jim Barton, Huttig, AR. “Siren Song”

Earl Belcher, Cave City, AR. “A Routine Interrupted”

Robert T. Chrisman, Kansas City, MO. “Gas Attack”

Yolanda DeLoach, Wausau, WI. “No Strings Attached”

Fred Farris, Leawood, KS. “Mischief Reef”

Russell Gayer, Fayetteville, AR. “Much Nothing About Ado”

Nancy Hartney, Fayetteville, AR. “A Birth Song”

Eileen Krause, Cabot, AR. “The Grass Is Always Greener”

Louise Kantro, Modesto, CA. “Teamwork”

Kathryn Lay, Arlington, TX. “Electricity”

Leslie McIntyre, Arlington, VA.“To the Indian Woman at the Charles de Gaulle Airport”

Susanna Solomon, San Anselmo, CA. “Ready for the Grave”

Doyle Suit, St. Charles, MO. “Footlog Over a Flood”

Robert Sweeten, Seneca, MO. “Revelation”

Dawn Wisniewski, Bonduel, WI. “The Critic"

Join Kansas City Voices at the Webster House. Thursday, August 25, 2011 6 pm

2011-08-01T06:00:00.000-07:00

We have a great reading scheduled from 6-7 pm on Thursday, August 25, 2011. Come join us at the Webster House and marvel at the talents of: Anne Baber, Judith Bader Jones, Peg Nichols and Jason Preu.

Learn more about Webster House by clicking here.

Hope to see you there.

Featured Talent: Judith Bader Jones at the Webster House 8/25/2011

2011-07-28T12:35:00.000-07:00

“In the Light” by Judith Bader Jones

Alone at a table
before music
calls crowds,
she grazes news
from Switzerland,
translates foreign phrases
into partial sense

like the rocky way
she fumbles through
the idea of being loved
by a Venetian
whose eyes emit light
when silence stills his soul.

He likes her Kent filter tips
and the swish in her step.
A floppy hat,
shields blue eyes
and fair skin in his Italia
where the women
wish she’d go home —
free this man —
give his light back.

[The Language of Small Rooms, Finishing Line Press, Aug 2011]

––Judith Bader Jones, poet, lives in Fairway, Kansas. Her collection of short fiction, Delta Pearls received the William Rockhill Nelson 2007 Fiction award. Moon Flowers on the Fence, a chapbook of poems was published by Finishing Line Press, 2010. The Language of Small Rooms, is slated for publication by Finishing Line Press, August 2011. This selection of poems was a semi-finalist in their Open Chapbook Competition. Jones is an avid bird watcher and photographer and can be found on Facebook and www.judithbaderjones.com

We are proud to feature Judith at our upcoming reading August 25, 2011, 6 pm at the Webster House in Kansas City, MO.

"NO MORE ROOM FOR ENGLISH PROFESSORS" by Catherine Rankovic––Guest Blogger

2011-07-24T23:17:00.000-07:00

I saw the last of them: Men of little flesh, they faded like pages
and at last became paper,
and one or two, painted in oils,
were hung among their books.
They taught the use of The Readers Guide to Periodical Literature,
taught The Canterbury Tales from thirty-year-old notes,
sent us to study manuscripts on microfiche,
and took sabbaticals,
mumbled, “Be that as it may…” and “so to speak,”
sobered up on Antabuse or electroshock,
wore cordovan wing-tips
or socks and sandals with tenure, I saw the very last one
from a mullioned window, dashing
across campus, his minnow of a mustache now gray,
while forty-five part-time instructors,
barbarians in lumberjack shirts,
replace his books and journals
with newspapers and materials
easier to throw away.
The world has no more room for English professors,
their offices divided, remodeled, their departments
now run by Visigoths and flashy scholars.
I witnessed their filing away
underground, in reverse alphabetical order.

––Catherine Rankovic, poet and editor, lives in St. Louis. Her most recent book is Meet Me: Writers in St. Louis (2010). Learn more at www.BookEval.com

Catherine received a Pushcart nomination for “The Juke,” published in Kansas City Voices Volume 8. Order your copy today at: http://www.kansascityvoices.com/

It's not too late.

2011-07-21T19:13:00.000-07:00

There's still room for you at our Whispering Prairie Press Writer's Conference this Saturday.

Learn more by scrolling down to past posts or by clicking here.

You can register at the door. Hope to see you there.

"Spring in Love" by Dave Malone––Guest Blogger

2011-07-18T16:43:00.000-07:00

Trees bloom our town
into being. Forsythia crown
our elbows in gold and redbuds
lance our eyes. The hulking sheriff
blows kisses to ladies aged
past his own grandmother,
and you take your shirt off
in the yard until I kiss
the last snowy remnants of your skin
into last week. When a thunderboomer
piles in, your rake your teeth
across my shoulder. You draw blood,
a red river flowing down into
the blossom of our Bradford pear.

––Dave Malone is a former Kansas Citian who makes his home now in the Ozarks. "Spring in Love" is the title poem for Dave Malone's free ebook, Spring in Love, available at Smashwords and Kindle. Visit him online: www.davemalone.net.

We are proud to showcase Dave's work in Volume 8 of Kansas City Voices. Order your copy today at: http://www.kansascityvoices.com/

WPP Creativity Writing Conference-Speaker: Sally Jadlow

2011-07-13T20:47:00.000-07:00

Sally Jadlow will help you learn key secrets to write selling inspirational essays at our Writers Conference Saturday July 23, 2011. Be sure to bring your memories, pen, and paper, so we can share together in her “How to Write Inspirational Essays”workshop.

Sally Jadlow serves on the board of the Heart of America Christian Writers’ Network. Her latest book is God’s Little Book of Miracles, true stories of God's intervention in the lives of everyday people, (Buoy Up Press, 2010). She also wrote the historical novel The Late Sooner (Roots and Branches, 2006) and published Sonflower Seeds (Sonflower Press, 2001), a collection of inspirational short stories and poetry that won the Best Book of Poetry Award from the Oklahoma Writers Federation Inc. She also writes essays and devotionals. When not writing, she serves as an ordained chaplain for Marketplace Ministries (Dallas, Texas). She also teaches creative writing to grade schoolers.

There is still time to register for the conference at the discounted rate. Check out http://www.kansascityvoices.com/03calendar/calendar.shtml to learn more.

"The Mystery of Jerome" by Sally Jadlow––Guest Blogger

2011-07-10T20:27:00.000-07:00

“God, how do I know you’re real?” Caleb asked as he stared into the dark night sky. He was at that stage of young adulthood between knowing about Jesus, but not yet trusting Him for his everyday guidance.

A few days later Caleb was at work at his usual spot at a call center. He felt something wasn’t right. The longer he sat, the more nauseated he became. Finally, he left his desk and stumbled to the employee bathroom. Hours later, he woke up in the hospital.

One of the paramedics came to visit him. “Boy, if it hadn’t been for Jerome you would have been a gonner.”

Caleb scowled. “What do you mean?”

“Jerome came in the bathroom and found you having a grand mal seizure on the floor. He knew what to do. He rolled you on your side, called us at 9-1-1, and stayed with you till we got there. He told us everything that had happened.”

Caleb had no recollection of the events the paramedics described, nor of Jerome. He made a mental note to look for Jerome when he was well enough to go back to work. But first, the doctors had to find the cause of the seizure.

After several days of tests, the doctors determined Caleb had a brain tumor. It had to come out. Several weeks later, the pathology report came back. Stage 3-Astrocytoma. He underwent radiation and chemotherapy for months but he didn’t forget Jerome.

Finally Caleb recovered enough to return to work. He asked several people if they knew an employee named Jerome. He knew Jerome had to be an employee because the call center didn’t allow customers in the employee restroom or work areas.

His search netted him nothing. As a last-ditch effort, he went to the Human Resources Director and asked where he could find Jerome.

“Jerome?” She gave Caleb a puzzled look. “We don’t have an employee by the name of Jerome.”

“Maybe he worked here several months ago. About the time I got sick.”

She shook her head. “We’ve never had a Jerome work here.”

It was then that Caleb knew God had sent His angel, Jerome, to save his life. He said a silent prayer to thank God for revealing Himself in an unmistakable way.

––Sally Jadlow is the author of God's Little Miracle Book and The Late Sooner. Learn more at
http://godslittlemiraclebook.blogspot.com/ and TheLateSooner.com

You can check out Sally's work in Volume 3 of Kansas City Voices. Get your copy today for just $5 at http://www.kansascityvoices.com/05subscriptions/subscribe.shtml

WPP Creativity Writing Conference-Speaker: Erin York

2011-07-07T12:52:00.000-07:00

Saturday, July 23, 2011 Erin York will lead you on an informational journey in her workshop "Blogging: The Basics and Beyond”. We hope you will join us at the KU Edwards Campus for this years Writers Conference.

At fourteen, Erin received her first paid publication. Now, a few years wiser, she has gone on to garner more than 65 awards and publications for her writing, including the national Younkin-Rivera Prize for Poetry. In August 2010, she signed with a top New York agent who is currently marketing a 6-book series for tween readers called Grand Magic. When not writing, Erin works at MCC-Longview as a writing tutor, interns for Whispering Prairie Press, and is editor-in-chief of the internationally recognized literary magazine, Shorelines. Erin has the unique opportunity of viewing the importance of an author's platform from both a writer's and editor's perspective.

It's not too late to register. Print your registration form at: http://www.kansascityvoices.com/03calendar/calendar.shtml

"The Wait." by Ethan Denault––Guest Blogger

2011-07-03T19:10:00.000-07:00

It was late fall when the clouds came in from the mountains,
and brought the rain
that scattered the tourists and
forced the shopkeepers to unfurl awnings
and open the umbrella’s out on the patio
overlooking the piazza.

"You should seek cover,"
the headwaiter said, turning
to the old man sitting in the wicker chair
in front of the Hotel Beviloqua,
"the rain is coming and it will be here quick."

The headwaiter did not hurry the man
for he knew there had been a death
and that the absence pained the old man
in a great, and unbending way.

"The rain," the headwaiter said again,
cranking open the umbrellas;
his hand moving as though a piston
on a locomotive
barreling through the Alps.

"Sir, the rain is nearly upon us and you’d be wise to seek cover."

But the old man did not move,
and the rain came
and soaked him through
until his freshly starched collar
began to wrinkle and bend about his neck.

We stood in the doorway of the Beviloqua and watched the rain pour off the eves.

"Poor man," I said, "he shouldn’t be out in weather like this."
Emma snuggled close and held my side tight.

"He’s crying," she said," he’s crying harder than the rain."

––Ethan Denault is 28 years old, dirt poor, just likes to write, travel and fish.

We are proud to showcase Ethan's work in Volume 8 of Kansas City Voices. Order your copy today at: http://www.kansascityvoices.com/

Today's your last day to get to the post office for our contest

2011-06-30T08:10:00.000-07:00

WHISPERING PRAIRIE PRESS

• 2011 POETRY, FLASH FICTION, AND ESSAY WRITING AWARDS •

POSTMARK DEADLINE | June 30, 2011

Polish your favorite poems, short fiction, and essays for the Whispering Prairie Press 2011 Poetry, Flash Fiction, and Essay Writing Awards!

PRIZES IN EACH CATEGORY
1st place $100, 2nd place $50, 3rd place $25, plus one honorable mention for every 10 entries.

ELIGIBILITY
Open to all writers age 18 and up, except members of the Board of Directors of Whispering Prairie Press and the editorial board of Kansas City Voices. All work must be the author's original work.

POETRY
Any style, any subject. Limit: 36 lines

FLASH FICTION
A complete fictional short story with a beginning, middle and end. 1,000 words or less

NON-FICTION PERSONAL ESSAY
1,000 words or less

SUBMISSIONS

• All entries must be unpublished at the time of submission.

• No limit on number of entries.

• Submit hard copy with no name on manuscript.

• Put word count for fiction or line count for poetry in the top right corner. Include a cover sheet with name, address, e-mail, telephone number with area code, category, and title of entry.

• If author is a full-time college student, add the name of the school

• Prose must be double-spaced in 12-point Times New Roman or Courier. Poetry may be single spaced.

• Enclose SASE for next year's guidelines. Entries not returned.

ENTRY FEE

• $5 for each entry or 3 entries for $10. (nonrefundable)

• Full-time college students: 2 entries for $5. May mix categories.

ADDRESS
Whispering Prairie Press Writing Awards
2128 E. 144th St.
Olathe, KS 66062-2355

POSTMARK DEADLINE
June 30, 2011

RESULTS
Winners will be announced by August 1, 2011, and winners' names posted at www.kansascityvoices.com. Judges' decisions are final.

Whispering Prairie Press publishes Kansas City Voices magazine, now in its 9th year.

“Sophie—Hagia Sophia: Lost In The Past” by Lorrie Crystal Eigles ––Guest Blogger

2011-06-26T08:21:00.000-07:00

The young woman in this acrylic/collage is the paternal grandmother I never met—Sophie Eigles. She was nineteen and filled with life. Her beauty parallels that of the “Hagia Sophia” (Istanbul) in the middle of a sunlit day.

A few years after my grandparents married and began their family, Sophie began struggling with mental illness. After the birth of her fourth son, the dark veil of schizophrenia descended and she was institutionalized, tearing her family apart. Not much was known about how to effectively treat her mental illness. For the next thirty years she remained in the institution, until her death. The “Hagia Sophia” at sunset represents her second half of life. Creating this artwork helped me address my sadness for her difficult life.

––Lorrie Crystal Eigles, artist and life coach, has launched a new website: http://myauthenticlifecoaching.com which integrates her color pencil drawing into the website design.

We are proud to feature Lorrie's work in Volumes 8 & 4 of Kansas City Voices. Her work is so good Volume 4 sold out, but you can still order your copy of Volume 8 at:

http://www.kansascityvoices.com/

WPP Creativity Writing Conference-Speaker: Susan Peters

2011-06-23T07:08:00.000-07:00

We can't wait for Susan Peters poetry workshop at this years Writers Conference. (July 23, 2011 at the KU Edwards Campus)

Susan's "Formal Poetry: Not Quite Dead Yet" session will focus on pantoums, villanelles, sonnets, and other poetry that uses specific rhyme and rhythm patterns.

Susan Whitley Peters grew up in Lawrence and returned to Kansas in 2006 after working overseas for the previous 15 years. Her poetry and prose have appeared in Kansas City Voices, Writer’s Journal, and in several anthologies, as well as online at www.anderbo.com and www.barefootmuse.com. She currently teaches at Johnson County Community College.

Register before June 30, 2011 to receive the discounted rate. Print your registration form at: http://www.kansascityvoices.com/03calendar/calendar.shtml

"The Spider’s Cento" by Lois Marie Harrod––Guest Blogger

2011-06-19T13:25:00.000-07:00

A door just opened on a street––

it launch'd forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself

as one opponent calling out checkmate
an hour past midnight.

Meanwhile back at the branch, the long-awaited return of the cardinal,

St. Francis in the iris bed, snow making a little cap for his stony head,

the sparse grass beneath naked trees since late October.

The world is filled with those who want
someone else

but the house sparrows are mating again each on top of the other,

and the neighbors' dog will not stop barking.

so much motion and instinct
lies inert in the earth

A door is an opening, one goes in or comes out.

Does your paint still cover doors?

–– Lois Marie Harrod's 11th book of poetry, Brief Term, was just published by Black Buzzard Press.

Learn more at www.loismarieharrod.com

We were proud to feature Lois Marie Harrod's work in Volume 8 of Kansas City Voices, order your copy at: http://www.kansascityvoices.com/

Hope to see you tomorrow

2011-06-18T15:22:00.000-07:00

If you don't know what to do on Father's Day you can check out some talented writers at the Great Day Cafe in downtown Overland Park.

We will be there from 1-2 pm tomorrow. Carol Katsantoness has put together a great line up of talented people.

WPP Creativity Writing Conference-Speaker: Bob Chrisman

2011-06-16T07:15:00.000-07:00

We can't wait to see you at this year's writer's conference.

Bob Chrisman's presentation on “Rules for Fiction” will help you fine tune your creative skills.

In Bob's own words "Once upon a time a middle-aged man left his government job and took up writing real fiction. He lived happily ever after. The End."

Bob writes fiction and memoir. His first published short story appeared in Volume Six of Kansas City Voices, and he served as prose co-editor for the next issue. The recently published, Chicken Soup for the Soul: My Cat's Life, contains one of his memoir pieces. He belongs to the Kansas City Writers Group, the Gourmet Poets Society, and WTF, a prose critique and writing group. He teaches writing practice at The Writers' Place.

There is still time to register for the conference at the discounted rate. Check out http://www.kansascityvoices.com/03calendar/calendar.shtml to learn more.

"What I Did on My Summer Vacation by Alexander Silver" by Robert Chrisman––Guest Blogger

2011-06-12T08:58:00.000-07:00

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

by Alexander Silver

My Daddy came home for his summer vacation. Mostly he stays in a quiet place with his pair of noids, which are bad things. They make him act weird. The doctors try to help him, but they can’t. I asked Mommy why they don’t send the pair of noids home. She says it’s not that easy. They make Mommy cry when she talks about them.

My little sister Ashley just turned five. I’m seven. We went to the zoo with Daddy. We never go anywhere alone with him. Mommy says it’s not safe.

When Mommy left for work, Daddy dressed us up because he said we should look nice.

I didn’t know how we would get to the zoo because the pair of noids keep Daddy from driving. I’ve never seen them, but I would kick them if I did.

We walked a long way. Ashley couldn’t. It was very hot. Daddy carried her, but I walked all the way.

When we got to the zoo, Daddy bought us hot dogs and pop. He told us stories about when Grandpa took him to the zoo.

We saw lions and tigers. They scared Ashley, but not me. The seals played with a ball. That’s when Daddy said a man was following us. I didn’t see anyone.

We went to the monkey house to see the arangatangs (I think I spelled that wrong, Miss Moore) and the chimps. Daddy said to keep moving.

I asked him if the pair of noids was following us. He laughed and kept looking all around. He accidentally pushed Ashley and she fell. She hurt her knee. Daddy said he was sorry.

He told me to take Ashley and hide behind a trash can. “The man will follow me. Don’t be afraid. I’ll be back to get you.” That’s what he said.

Ashley started to cry, but I didn’t. He kissed us both and said, “I love you two. Alex, you take care of your sister. You’re the big brother.”

I held Ashley’s hand and we hid. I watched Daddy run away, but didn’t see anyone follow him. We stayed behind the trash can for a long time until Ashley had to go potty. I took her to the bathroom and waited outside. Boys can’t go in the girl’s bathrooms unless their mothers tell them to.

Later I bought us some lemonade. We sat on a bench and drank it. Ashley wanted to go home. I did too, but Daddy has said he would come back for us.

A man with a badge and a gun asked us who we were. Mommy has told us not to talk to strangers, but he looked like a policeman. Mommy says we can talk to policeman. I told him our names, where we lived, and our phone number. He was nice. He called Mommy and she picked us up. She was crying.

When I asked where Daddy was, she said that his pair of noids acted up. Another nice policeman had taken him back to the place he stays when he isn’t at home with us.

We spent the rest of the summer at the babysitter’s house. We did fun things. I wish Daddy could have had a longer summer vacation.

The End

––Bob writes fiction and memoir. He teaches writing practice at The Writers' Place. To learn more about his classes visit http://www.writersplace.org/

We were proud to feature Bob's work in Volumes 6, 7 & 8 of Kansas City Voices. You can get a copy of volumes 6 or 7 for just $5. Order your copies at:

http://www.kansascityvoices.com/

WPP Creativity Writing Conference-Keynote Speaker: Thomas Fox Averill

2011-06-09T06:14:00.000-07:00

We are proud to announce Thomas Fox Averill is our Keynote Speaker at this years writer's conference. Mr. Averill will be presenting:

"Knowing it Cold, Writing it Hot"

The "breathing in" that means--breathing in the atmosphere and environment and themes/subjects through travel and research.

Thomas Fox Averill is writer-in-residence and professor of English at Washburn University in Topeka, where he teaches courses in creative writing, Kansas literature, folklore and film. He is the author of two novels: Secrets of the Tsil Cafe, (BlueHen/ Penguin Putnam, 2001) and The Slow Air of Ewan MacPherson (BlueHen/Berkley, 2003). He has also produced several collections of short stories, as well as numerous articles and poems, He won the 2006 Kansas Arts Commission Fellowship in Fiction. http://www.washburn.edu/cas/english/taverill

There is still time to register for the conference at the discounted rate. Check out http://www.kansascityvoices.com/03calendar/calendar.shtml to learn more.

"How to Get an Unusual Name" by Alarie Tennille––Guest Blogger

2011-06-06T08:06:00.000-07:00

How to Get an Unusual Name

Pick ancestors from a foreign-speaking
land. Begin with a name that is little heard
even there.

Now stir up some rebellion. Politics and
religion work best. But first make sure you’ve
chosen visionary or stubborn stock. Neighbors
must wish them dead, must drag ancient uncles
from their beds to execution by gallows or
guillotine. This culls the family tree, makes
those who stay change their names.

Send the few remaining branches to
different countries, where spelling will be
changed and more cousins lost. Your name
will trip the new native tongue, and you’ll
spend a lifetime correcting it.

Now for the first name. Choose parents
who crave the exotic. Hippies and
Southerners work well. They’ll take care
of the rest.

© 2009 Alarie Tennille, originally published in Margie

–– Alarie Tennille is a Pushcart Prize nominee. She serves on the Board of Directors
of The Writers Place in Kansas City, Missouri. Her chapbook, Spiraling into Control,
is available on Amazon.com. Alarie’s poems have appeared in numerous journals
including Margie, Poetry East, ByLine Magazine, I-70 Review, and The Little Balkans Review.

Check out her chapbook at
http://www.thelivesyoutouch.com/touchjournal/Publications/Tennille.html

We were proud to feature Alarie's work in Volume 8 of Kansas City Voices, order your copy at:
http://www.kansascityvoices.com/

WPP Creativity Writing Conference-Speaker: Rolland Love

2011-06-02T15:28:00.000-07:00

There's one story you know better then anyone else, and Rolland Love is going to help you bring it to life on paper. His workshop on “Writing Your Life Story” will focus on how to write memoir and the importance of recording your memories for family and friends – and sometimes profit!

Rolland Love is the award winning author of short stories, novels, and a best selling computer book. He is co-author of Homegrown in the Ozarks: Mountain Meals and Memories, an Ozarks cookbook with personal essays about growing up in the region. He frequently speaks at such venues as the Landon Center on Aging, schools, assisted living facilities, and other organizations.

We can't wait to see you at the Conference on Saturday, July 23 at the KU Edwards Campus. If you register before June 30, 2011 you receive our discounted rate. Print your registration form at: http://www.kansascityvoices.com/03calendar/calendar.shtml

Getting to Know KC Voices and Whispering Prairie Press

2011-06-01T20:03:00.000-07:00

Have you ever wondered who publishes literary magazines and how they do it? I assumed it must require well paid professionals, necessitate a big bank account and be labor intensive.

One day last year, Mary-Lane Kamberg, a leader of our Kansas City Writers Group and president of the board of directors of Whispering Prairie Press asked if anyone would like to volunteer to help publish Kansas City Voices Magazine. (So much for well paid.) I hesitantly raised my hand, thinking I would just take some small job and learn how it was done. Next thing I knew, I was the new 'on line' prose and poetry submissions editor.

Next, Mary-Lane asked if anyone knew how to write grants. (No big bank account, I guessed.)

One of our board members put a small advertisement in a writer's magazine and soon we began to receive prose, poetry and art submissions. Because we got many of the them by snail mail my first year, I had time to look over everything before passing it along to our expert editors who would do the actual choosing for our magazine. I loved my job.

Then came year two. We decided to go high tech and accept only online submissions. Unfortunately, the process required two parts; more, it seemed, than many of our less than internet savvy authors could master. Entries arrived at the rate of five to ten a day so the newly elected president, Theresa Hupp and I decided to help our friends with detailed email instructions.

But then . . . as the deadline drew near . . . submissions began to pour in from all over the world and almost everyone needed assistance. The only fair thing to do was help them all. Emails flew back and forth until the authors were able to achieve success. (Labor intensive for sure.) I found myself forming a sort of bond with our submitters. I 'got friended' on Facebook from people in places like Iran, India and Russia. I found myself staying up late to read their submissions. The final few days I could barely keep up. But it was fun, and with the help of understanding editors and my workaholic president, we got the job done.

Now I get to sit back and reap the rewards. I've learned some of what it takes to publish a literary magazine. Kansas City Voices 9th Volume is beginning to take shape and will come out in the fall of 2011.

Thanks to all our email submitters and the new Whispering Prairie Press web site, we're becoming a worldwide presence.

Beth L. Barnett: Submissions Editor, Whispering Prairie Press

http://www.bethlyonbarnett.com/

"Rapture" by Norm Ledgin––Guest Blogger

2011-05-30T20:40:00.000-07:00

I know why the Rapture didn’t come off Saturday, May 21. I’ve reached an understanding with God. She didn’t want to start without me.

I’d never believed, but God said, “Get over that crap. You need me. I need you. I’m giving you five more months to get ready.”

“The Mayans are offering nineteen months.”

“Mayans, Shmayans. Be ready when I said.”

I ventured a deal. “Billy Graham promised when we die, we get new bodies. Right there in the Kansas City Star.”

“If Billy Graham put it in the Star, it’s true. Let me write that down. ‘New bodies’.”

“On that new body, I could use more hair on my head and a bigger dick.”

“I’m still writing,” God said. “How much bigger?”

I shrugged. “Whatever guarantees joy without pain. Use your judgment. One more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Sarah Palin. Can she keep the body she already has?”

God said, “I shouldn’t make exceptions.”

“Please. I think she’d like that. It’s consolation for missing the election. She’ll never get to be bimbo-in-chief.”

“That’s a good bargain. Is that all?”

“Yes.”

God said, “I have one for you. When October 21 rolls around, bring your Hanukkah recipe for potato latkes.”

“You like my latkes?”

“They’re to die for.”

––Norm Ledgin has authored books of fiction and nonfiction and lectures on Thomas Jefferson at the University of Kansas. Learn more at www.normledgin.com

We were proud to feature Norm's work in Volume 8 of Kansas City Voices, order your copy at:

http://www.kansascityvoices.com/

2011-05-28T07:06:00.000-07:00

2nd Annual

WPP Creativity Writing Conference

Saturday, July 23, 2011

KU Edwards Campus
12600 Quivira Road, Room 110
Overland Park, Kansas 66213
8:30 am-4:30 pm

Registration Form available at http://www.kansascityvoices.com/
Please send any questions to: MLKwriter@yahoo.com

"What Does Not Get Photographed" by Melissa Guillet––Guest Blogger

2011-05-20T11:41:00.000-07:00

Do I want to know what you saw? 
You smile slightly in a three-quarter view,
here in this photo taken during the war,
This is one of two pictures I’ve seen of you.

You smile slightly in a three-quarter view,
perhaps thinking it was the last image they’d see.
This is one of two pictures I’ve seen of you.
You who fathered my father, my legacy.

Perhaps thinking it was the last image they’d see,
you went to fight behind enemy lines.
You who fathered my father, my legacy,
were the first born here from a family of nine.

You went to fight behind enemy lines,
volunteering for long range penetration.
The first born here after a family of nine,
you defended a new country, a new generation.

Volunteering for long range penetration,
you marched with machete through Burma.
Defending a new country, a new generation.
Would your heart fail through sadness or murmur?

You marched with machete through Burma,
like Galahad, one of Merrill’s Marauders.
Would your heart fail through sadness or murmur?
Now call it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Like Galahad, one of Merrill’s Marauders,
you did not want to talk of your mission.
Now call it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
What kind of knight has marred visions?

You did not want to talk of your mission.
Some nightmare, and you awoke screaming.
What kind of knight has marred visions?
Your new wife near-strangled while dreaming.

Some nightmare, and you awoke screaming.
In the dark, who could know what you saw?
Your new wife near-strangled while dreaming.
You hid your purple heart and bronze star.

In the dark, who could know what you saw?
Here is the photo taken during the war.
You hid your purple heart and bronze star.
Do I want to know what you saw?

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

*Henry Ernest Guillet (b. July 9th, 1923) served in the Army
in 1943-44 with the 5307th Composite Unit. He was shot in
the hand, losing the ring his mother had given him and

leaving the finger permanently fixed. He married Therese
Charrette in 1948 and died July 8th, 1973, in the Brockton
V.a. hospital, the day before his 50th birthday.

––Melissa Guillet’s work appears in many journals and anthologies,
including Bloodroot Literary Magazine (Pushcart Nominee) and The Cortland Review. 
Founder of Sacred Fools Press,  she writes a sustainable living blog at:

  www.aroundtheworldin100miles.blogspot.com.

We were proud to feature Melissa's work in Volume 8 of Kansas City Voices, order your copy at:

http://www.kansascityvoices.com/

Important Dates

2011-05-03T09:23:00.000-07:00

Hello creative writers and readers,

Whispering Prairie Press would like to offer a buffet of writing conferences and events from which you might choose to attend:

May 5-7: Oklahoma Writers Federation Inc. annual conference

May 20-21: Ozarks Writers League quarterly conference

July 23: Whispering Prairie Press annual conference (information on our Facebook page and on this blog)

And in August, on the 25, KC Voices is proud to announce our reading event at the Webster House. Feel free to bring a cocktail into the reading area.

Keep reading the blog for more details on events and conferences!

Save the Date: July 23, 2011: WPP Writing Conference

2011-04-26T07:51:00.000-07:00

Writers and avid readers, mark your calendars!

Please plan to attend the Whispering Prairie Press Writers Conference on Sat.,

July 23, 2011, from 8:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. (lunch on your own) at the KU Edwards

Campus, 12600 Quivira Road.

We are proud to announce Tom Averill will be the keynote speaker.

Come one and come all, lovers of KC Voices magazine as this conference supports the 2011 issue of Kansas City Voices.

Guest Spot: #1: Carole Katsantoness: "By George, I think I’ve (still) got it."

2011-04-22T10:53:00.000-07:00

KC Voices blog is proud to present our first Guest Spot by writer and Kansas City Voices board member, Carole Katsantoness. Enjoy her take on volunteer positions versus corporate jobs:

Retirement from a corporate position has led me on another journey to Activity Planner, a volunteer position. For the year 2011, I’ve scheduled a series of reading events for KC Voices magazine. The readers are local authors of prose and poetry. The magazine offers a variety of art as well.

Working with such talent is life changing—a welcome education in itself. Securing venues throughout the city has presented many opportunities for me to meet with interesting, successful entrepreneurs and professionals.

I present KC Voices magazine with pride and conviction. Once again, the juices flow and I feel that temporarily buried sales ability surface. “By George, I think I’ve (still) got it.”

Some of the perks of the volunteer position are: I am in charge of myself; I can produce as I see fit (although I need to put on the brakes, and it’s not easy), and I work when I wish. I receive recognition, cooperation and the support of “KCWG “ and the KC Voices Board members, primarily Erin York and Jessica Conoley, who sustain my renewed self-reliance.

I am tunneled and the light at the end is to gain as much visibility as possible for the writers and readers through the introduction of literary talent to the community.

Before I retired, I worked in an entirely different field. Pondering life from a different perspective, I find myself comparing a salaried position to a volunteer job.

In the corporate world, during those important productive years, it is all about the bottom line. An attempt to accumulate savings, collect the material things that mysteriously hold some over-blown value or importance and even reaching for the next level or plateau seems key. But it’s not totally about monetary achievement. I received accolades and recognition for a job well done. Earning the respect of my employees, peers, and superiors is paramount, an accomplishment worth gaining.

If I am going to be honest, I should admit to some grumbling while managing a banking facility. “Why don’t they pay me what I am worth? I’m over worked and damn tired of compensating for unfilled positions. Oddly, employee performances slack and it is as if they just want to draw a paycheck. All the coaching is fruitless and leaves me juggling the stressors.

A more relevant differential between a corporate position and a volunteer staffer is the sense of job security. When one is a volunteer, job security is certainly not an issue. Unlike corporate positions where it seems everyone in the company is competing for the job, volunteers do well to find someone willing to replace them. Still having its rewards, I think everyone could benefit from the volunteer experience at least once.

2011 Writer's Conference: Post 1

2011-04-04T09:57:00.001-07:00

SAVE THE DATE: The Whispering Prairie Press Writers' Conference will be on Saturday, July 23, 2011, from 9 to 4:30 at the KU Edwards Campus, 12610 Quivira Road, Overland Park, KS. Details to follow...

Welcome to KC Voices!

2011-04-01T10:43:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the blog for Kansas City Voices magazine! We’ve been working on many new developments over the last year. This blog is one of them.

Who we are:

Kansas City Voices is a magazine of writing and art that draws submissions from around the world. It is published by Whispering Prairie Press, a Missouri non-profit corporation. This blog will primarily support the magazine, though you will find some other Whispering Prairie Press projects highlighted as well.

Kansas City Voices magazine:

Last year we published Volume 8 of Kansas City Voices. Volume 8 was the first issue for which we accepted electronic submissions, and we updated the look of the magazine with a new logo and with new size and paper stock. We hope you like it, and we welcome comments about the magazine’s content and appearance.

In 2011, for Volume 9 of Kansas City Voices, we moved entirely to electronic submissions. Our submissions period for Volume 9 just closed, and our editors are hard at work making selections from the more than 350 submissions we received. If you submitted your work for Volume 9, you should hear from us by June 15, 2011, if your piece was accepted.

We’ll keep you posted on the progress of Volume 9.

Kansas City Voices also maintains a website at http://www.kansascityvoices.com/. Please follow our website as well as this blog.

Whispering Prairie Press:

In 2010, Whispering Prairie Press held its first annual Whispering Prairie Press Creativity Conference and a writing contest. Both of these events were good fundraisers that supported publication of Kansas City Voices, and drew participants from throughout the U.S. Our 2011 writing contest is just launching (more on that soon), and we are planning another conference for this summer.

We have launched a Facebook page for Whispering Prairie Press, so please search for “Whispering Prairie Press” on Facebook, and add us to your list of friends.

Whispering Prairie Press is also considering how to develop an arts education program for schools. Kansas City has a wealth of writing and artistic talent, and we want to find ways to use this talent in our community.

Follow us:

Please subscribe to this blog and follow our progress. We appreciate your ongoing support, and look forward to receiving your questions and comments.

Thank you.