March is Women’s History Month where we celebrate the accomplishments and contributions of women. It began as International Woman’s Day on March 8, 1910. A German activist named Clara Zetkin suggested the idea at an international working women’s conference in Copenhagen, and it began to be celebrated internationally the following year. Many countries recognized and celebrated the day, but the United States didn’t begin celebrating it until 1975.

A task force in California created Women’s History Week in 1977, and President Jimmy Carter made March 8 the beginning of National Women’s History Week. In 1981, a congressional resolution sealed the deal. By 1987, Congress declared the entire month of March Women’s History Month. Since then, every president has declared the month of March Women’s History Month.

Title IX was passed on March 1, 1972. In fact, the first-ever Women’s History Week was created in order to bolster support for Title IX, which prohibited discrimination due to sex in federally funded education programs.

The theme of the month this year is Celebrating Women Who Tell Our Stories. This theme recognizes “women, past and present, who have been active in all forms of media and storytelling including print, radio, TV, stage, screen, blogs, podcasts, news, and social media.” Clarissa Pinkola Estes is a master storyteller, and I wrote the poem below after reading her book, Women Who Run with the Wolves. My poem is based on the myth of the Wild Woman, who travels the desert picking up bones of wolves and assembling them on the desert floor. When she assembles a complete wolf, she sings and sings until the bones rise up into a live wolf.

Wild Woman
after Women Who Run with the Wolves
by Clarissa Pinkola Estes

A wolf is running free in my soul
toward fire of dawn where she is fed
on bones I gather from a scattered whole.

Legends of dark myths take their toll
as nearer to the core of life I dread
to find the wolf running free in my soul.

I grasp at fading light to gain control
but fall through shadows to my bed
of bones that lie within me as a whole.

Damp mists surround me like a stole
and draw me down within the quiet dead
to run with the wolf free in my soul.

Lithe fingers of a silent dawn unroll
a glowing path where, weary, I am led
to ivory bones that rise a trembling whole.

I soar into the past to meet my goal,
laughing with the sun around my head.
A wolf is running free in my soul;
I sing her bones into a howling whole.

© 1993 Dorothy A Joslyn

Information for this blog came from the following website:

Write about a woman who means, or has meant, a lot to you. Why is she special? How has she influenced you to be the person you are?

Send a card or a note to a woman you care about or love. Tell her how much she means to you.

If you are a woman, celebrate yourself this month in some way that makes you happy.

I am sitting here today thinking about love in all its forms. It’s been a gloomy, cold week so far with snow and ice. So the peek of sun earlier today was a welcome sight. I love sunlight and how it’s melting some of the snow and ice, especially on the roads. It has been a little treacherous the past few days. I’ve stayed inside except for a couple of appointments I needed to keep, and then I went to the appointments and right back home. Luckily, I love being at home, too.

So, love can mean many things, including the mundane love of weather, places, things, and especially people, which isn’t mundane at all. It’s what keeps us functioning on a higher level, I think.

In this month that includes Valentine’s Day, it’s a good time to think about love and to reach out to those we love: spouses, family, friends, and mankind in general, and tell them how much we love them. We’re all fairly quirky in our own ways, but love can bridge gaps that may create. If you think about it, it’s miraculous that we can love each other as much as we do. And heartening. It gives me hope when so much negativity prevails at times.

Here is a poem I found that uplifted my heart:

I Love You, by Roy Croft

I love you,
Not only for what you are,
But for what I am when I am with you.

I love you,
Not only for what you have made of yourself,
But for what you are making of me.

I love you for
The part of me that you bring out;
I love you for
Putting your hand into my heaped-up heart
And passing over all the foolish, weak things
That you can’t help dimly seeing there,
And for drawing out into the light
All the beautiful things
That no one else had looked
Quite far enough to find.

I love you because you have done
More than any creed
Could have done
To make me good,
And more than any fate could have done
To make me happy.

You have done it
Without a touch,
Without a word,
Without a sign.
You have done it by being yourself
Perhaps that is what
Being a friend means, after all.

Write about a friend or someone else you love that embodies this poem.

Write a love poem to a friend, a lover, a family member and consider giving it to that person,

What do you love about your life? Write about it.

My word for 2023 is “Intentional.” I want to live intentionally, give my time to what matters to me, be useful in some way, find purpose in my daily life. Like many other people, I often live randomly, just wandering from one activity to another, unplanned and disorganized. I know I can’t plan every moment of my life. In fact, that wouldn’t be a good way to live. There has to be time for spontaneity, for just doing things in the moment or not doing anything. But even then, there can be direction and purpose.

I haven’t explored completely what intentional living means. What I do know is that to me it means paying attention, looking at things carefully and clearly, acting with kindness and compassion, working toward intentions I have selected for myself for each day, week, month and the year. I use the word “intentions” instead of “goals,” because to me goals are end results of plans, and intentions are a way of life, ongoing, and may not include specific endings, and that’s how I see myself living. I may not get “there,” wherever “there” is, but the journey is what matters and what I do while I’m on it.

I wrote this alpha poem, or acrostic, (a poem where the lines begin with words that use the letters of a word or phrase) using my word, “Intentional.”


Internally generated by my mind,
Nothing left to chance, I
Turn my thoughts
Energetically toward my truths,
Noticing the source first,
Then determining how to proceed.
Inner resources are ready,
Only focused on
Now, not yesterday or tomorrow, but
Allowing myself the
Luxury of some uncertainty.

It’s not great poetry, but it helped clarify for me how to begin the exploration of what “Intentional” will become for me in the coming year.

Write about what living intentionally means to you. What steps can you take to be intentional in your thoughts and actions.

Choose a word that has meaning to you as your word for the year. Write about that word and how it will help direct your way of life this year.

Write your own alpha poem/acrostic using your word and see where it takes you.

It’s December again – already. Where has 2022 gone? There have been ups and downs for sure this year; but here we are, getting ready to celebrate the various holidays that occur in December and looking forward, not backwards. By our actions we are showing optimism. We’re traveling, we’re shopping, we’re going to parties, being with family and friends, being crazy busy, just like in the past.

But, we’re still struggling with Covid, and now predictions are that this will be a particularly bad flu season, as well. Then there is RSV added to the mix, especially in children. We know what we can do to avoid illness this season, but will we do what it takes to keep it away? Most of us will not. We’re tired of restrictions and warnings, so we go on about our lives as we did pre-Covid. It remains to be seen what that will do to our health.

So, there is joy and reticence, abandon and carefulness, hope and a little bit of fear. I think in the long run, we’ll be okay, but we still have a way to go. Meanwhile, let’s hope and use some good sense in all that we do this holiday season. And love, fiercely love, those we care about and the world in general. Life can be difficult, but we usually know what we need to do to make it livable. We just have to do it!

A Gift to the Self

There is a bright spot on the horizon,
both at the beginning and the end of the day.
We celebrate these miracles,
sometimes without even knowing it.
We take for granted the cycle of days
and live our lives as if the cycle will never end.
We give and receive whatever love there is,
and joy fills our hearts,
and cures our sorrows.
We decide how we show up in the world each day.
It is not always easy,
but here we are,
hopeful and ready to face whatever awaits us.
We can, after all, create a life to love.

© 2022 Dorothy A Joslyn

What are you creating in your corner of the world?

Write about what makes your your life worthwhile. What matters to you?

What is a gift you can give to yourself and of yourself to others this holiday season?

Our country and the world seem to be in chaos all of the time these days: extreme weather events, political upheaval, deep divisions among people with different ideologies, wars, racial discrimination, starvation in many parts of the world, mass shootings and on and on. How can we be grateful? Yet, there are things I am grateful for tucked in among the anger and hopelessness. I have to stop sometimes and put aside the negatives for just a while and bask in the joyfulness that somehow bubbles up in me if only for a moment.

The things I am grateful for are large and small, all of them important, though. I’m going to list a few things here:

a loving family
very good friends
my life as it is
reasonable health (for my age)
my warm, comfortable home
the resources to put food on my table
fall is here (my favorite season that has been especially good this year)
the ability to engage in activities I enjoy

I could go on and on. I have a good life. It is the time of year that we often take stock and think about the things that make us happy. Sometimes we are brought up short by terrible things happening around us, maybe not to us, but things that affect us and our ways of life. What can we do? What should we do?

We can be kind. We can try to understand how someone else may be feeling and give them space to be who they are. We can love fiercely. We can give of ourselves and resources to causes that may help change the world. We can care.

In this season of Thanksgiving, let’s find things to be thankful for and do something that makes the world just a little better.

Make your own list of things you are grateful for. Spend some time basking in feelings that the list creates in you, then act on those feelings to help improve the lives of others.

Write a love poem or essay. It doesn’t have to be a romantic love poem/essay, but one that honors someone about whom you care deeply. Then, if you’re comfortable, share it with that person.

I began October at a weekend writing retreat in southern Missouri at a place called Dawt Mill, a historic mill, now a resort. It’s a small retreat held in both the spring and fall, usually with visiting writers who lead workshops in poetry, fiction and non-fiction writing. But this fall it was a pared down version with just local leaders and no workshops. We had plenty of time for writing, creating our own workshops with writing prompts and exercises, discussing our projects and adventures in writing, socialization, and readings in the evenings. It was a good getaway for most of us in an environment of acceptance and camaraderie.

Dawt Mill is located in a beautiful setting right along a river, and most of our activities took place outdoors immersed in the sounds of the river bumping over rocks and flowing onto the shore, the sun creating diamond sparkles on the surface of the water. It was a perfect weather weekend with sun and warm days and cool nights, with a fire pit to warm us after the sun set.

Those who wanted to, read some of their work. I read a poem on Friday night and then another one on Saturday night. It was nice to get affirmation from fellow writers. Some of the attendees are in the process of publishing books, so it was great to hear about their experiences, and I think it was good for them to be able to express their joys and frustrations.

I am going to post one of the poems I read at the retreat here:


“I did not/find my womanhood in the servitudes of custom.” *
I found it in trial and error,
rebellion and compliance,
anger and peacefulness.
All these things led me
to where I am today,
alone, but satisfied with my life,
a solitary figure
casting a long shadow
in the setting sun,
still moving forward,
learning and growing,
as I will until my time is over.
My womanhood is strong and resilient,
and it has nothing to do with custom.
I go with the flow of my own stream,
clear but unpredictable,
bumping over rocks and sand bars,
smoothing into a run for the river,
knowing I will become
part of the collective of women
combining our wisdom and strength
to recreate the world into our vision.

*from “Against Love Poetry,” by Eavan Boland

© 2022 Dorothy A Joslyn

How do you express your individuality, your “separateness” from others, yet as a part of the whole of humankind?

Write about your life as it is now, it’s joys and sorrows, successes and failures, ups and downs.

What are you working on right now that makes you happy? If you’re stuck, how can you break loose and follow your dreams?

You may not think of September as a new beginning as you do January 1, the new year, but to me it feels like a time to take stock and maybe even do something different. The hot days of summer are receding into cool nights and warm days. I feel more like tackling projects and spending time outdoors.

Although I have no children in school, school starting up again feels like a fresh start. I live in a college town, and students are everywhere. Something about seeing young people out and about invigorates me. The promise they have kind of rubs off on me. I would love to be going back to school!

So, what am I going to do with my perceived fresh start? Hopefully, I will write more. I got great feedback from a piece I submitted to a literary publication even though I didn’t win the contest. It’s unusual to get feedback on non-winning entries, so I’m going to take advantage of it to revise the piece and maybe submit it elsewhere.

I may go to some parks just to soak up the fall air. I may find a labyrinth nearby and walk it for a spiritual boost. I can revisit some of my 2022 intentions and fulfill them. Now is the time!

September’s Hope

It is here,

that time of year when time feels fresh,

when the air is crackling with possibilities.

I can breathe deeply

and soak in the season.

I embrace the revitalization of my spirit.

There is a pause before whatever is to come

tempered by no promises

except change.

Soon leaves will be falling

in a rainbow of color,

and the grass will fade,

but I know they are only resting

and will return in the Spring.

I always hope for peace on earth,

but this year, especially, I send out peace vibes

on the crisp, cool air of autumn.

© 2022 Dorothy A Joslyn


Some people think of autumn as the dying season. What does it say to you?

Do you have projects for this fall that you’ve been saving because of the heat of summer? Write about them.

What is one of your hopes and wishes for right now? Send out the vibes!

I have been reflecting on many of the most recent happenings in our country and world and trying to take stock of where I am in all of it. Sometimes, all that I see and hear going on overwhelms me, and I want to retreat back into myself, push everything out of my mind, turn off the news, and just pretend everything is okay. But I can’t do that, really, in a world where news is everywhere, and everyone is talking about it.

It has been a difficult two and a half years, and it doesn’t seem to be going to let up soon. Covid-19 struck late in 2019 and became a disaster beginning in early 2020. More than a million people in the US, alone, died, as did many more millions worldwide. And here we are in mid-2022 still struggling with the different variants of the illness, more people contracting the disease, and no end in sight. I am back to wearing a mask most of the time when I’m out and about: in stores, movies, and other activities that involve other people. Most people have given up their masks, however, which is contributing to the spread of the disease, along with many who have not been vaccinated. This is one disease, I think, that will be with us even longer-term than it has already been, though hopefully milder as time passes.

Black people and police continue to clash, and many black men and a few black women have died in those confrontations. Somehow, we have to stop the carnage, and both sides have to begin to feel safe. It is fear that is fueling the fires of these incidents, I think, on both sides, and we have to find a way to quell that fear. I wish I knew how to be a part of that solution, but I don’t know what I can do.

Then there is the rise of restrictions on women, especially their bodies. Government officials want to take control of the most intimate activities of women, something that supposedly ended 50 years ago. They want to push it even farther and put women in untenable positions in many areas of their lives. We can’t allow this to happen to half the population of this country. The only thing I know that I can do is vote for people who want to keep men and women equally in control of their lives.

Gun control is another issue that we need to resolve. Mass shootings in public places everywhere, especially schools, plague our country. We can never get back all the guns out there, but we can surely restrict further sales of the most dangerous weapons going forward.

The insurrection that took place in our nation’s Capital is an incident that needs to be addressed, and it is being investigated and reported to all of us ongoing in TV hearings. Those who instigated and participated in that debacle should be prosecuted and made to pay for the damage and destruction of our public places but especially the damage to our democracy. I hold on to hope that it will happen.

Outside our country, the war in Ukraine rages on, and those brave Ukrainian people struggle to hold on to their freedom from Russian aggression. We must continue to support them in every way we can.

And in Sudan, the people are starving because of both floods and drought. No one in this world of plenty should be hungry. No One! There has to be a way for the rest of the world to get food to those people before it’s too late. Yes, there are people in this country who are hungry, too, and it should be even easier for us to be sure everyone has enough to eat here, as well.

Finally, climate change weighs on my mind as I watch the weather change drastically; fires rage not only in our country but in other countries, as well; record heat continues day after day, week after week; and flooding rains destroy property and people. Do we have the will to save our planet? I wonder.

So, those are some of the things on which I’ve been reflecting, with little in the way of suggested solutions. Are we going to save ourselves? Or will we, like the dinosaurs, disappear from the earth, and it becomes a wasteland, uninhabitable by our currents species? It remains to be seen, maybe not by anyone reading this, but in the not so distant future. It may be a grim projection, but maybe it is inevitable, maybe it’s the destiny of the human species.

One solution to the doldrums that I find myself in are the connections I have to others, the people I love and care about: friends, family, even the brief encounters I have with kind and gentle people. Whatever is in our future, these connections make my current life more than bearable – rich and satisfying. No matter the circumstances I find myself in, I cherish what I do have now, in the present moment, which is all I really have.

I’m including here a link to a poem by Ellen Bass, “The Big Picture,” that I’m reflecting on. I hope it will speak to you, too:

How does this poem speak to you? Is there a message that you detect? If so, what is it?

What have you been reflecting on? Write about it.

Write about your connections to other people that keep you sane.

As I am writing this, the US Supreme Court has overturned Roe vs Wade, taking 50-year-old freedoms away from women in this country. It’s about abortion, yes, but it’s about so much more, too. It’s about a group of people who want to impose their beliefs on everyone else. It’s about control. It’s about keeping women “in their place,” which is farther down the ladder than white men. I’m always amazed at women who subscribe to this type of control, who are willing to bow to whatever men and some religions want and demand. We are strong and able to control our own lives. Why would any woman want to be subservient to anyone else or ideology?

What is even more difficult for me to understand is the lack of care people give to unwanted children. Many are against any kind of social programs that might help families take care of their children or prevent unwanted births, like free child care and birth control. They only care that the child is born, not how it will be cared for in the long-term. I’ve heard the phrase, “pro-birth” not “pro-life” that describes those people. Some unwanted children have terrible, violent lives or not enough to eat. Many are homeless. Some end up dead from abuse. Where are these high-minded people when such need is so great?

This month also includes Independence Day, July 4. Somehow it doesn’t ring true this year for me. The rights of women have been diminished. Where is our freedom?

I wrote the following poem after Texas passed their anti-abortion law, but it serves to describe this new blow to women’s freedoms, too:

Her Voice

Her faith abides by the cycle of the moon.
See how perfect she is.
from “She Is” by
Tsering Wangmo Dhompa

Her voice is swallowed by air rising. . .
from somewhere outside herself.
It takes her breath away; she is suffocating.

Waves of wind blow into her nostrils,
and she cannot do anything to stop it;
now there is no sound.
It is all silence;
then it is a cacophony of words shouted.

Then it is done. It is over; she has lost her voice.
It has been taken from her. . .
and her body.
Her mind is paralyzed.

She cannot believe words cried above the din of loss.
She is alone with nothing to hold on to.
She is sinking back in time, back when fear was alive.

It is alive again, even now in this age of awareness.

Darkness is falling fast into the closing window;
there is nothing to see.
It is all gone, taken away by the signing of a document,
hand-cuffing her to words she did not utter. . .
to which she did not agree.

She will fight though her mouth has been closed.
She will not let this stand.
She weeps in grief, in anger.
She rises to do battle and stands strong.
It will not stand.

She is the perfect storm. See how perfect she is.

© 2021 Dorothy A Joslyn

Write about your feelings that have come from recent legislative and court decisions regarding women’s rights, abortion, or other women’s issues.

What can you do to help keep more legislation from becoming law that demeans or denigrates women?

How can we make this a safer, more livable country for children so they don’t grow up abused, hungry, and homeless?

I just got back from Hot Springs, Arkansas, where I was the featured poet at Wednesday Night Poetry (WNP), a weekly open mic event at a great little coffee shop, Kollective Coffee + Tea. It is the longest running open mic in the entire country, begun February 1, 1989. I read for it often after it went virtual during the Covid pandemic but decided to drive down to Hot Springs and read in person, since it’s not too far away from Springfield, Missouri, where I live. Kai Coggin, the charismatic leader of WNP, invited me to be the featured poet, which meant I could read several poems for 20-30 minutes and offer my book for sale.

I enjoyed it, and it was good for me to stretch myself a little. The coffee shop was packed, and they were so receptive and welcoming. It made it easier for me to not be so nervous. A friend went with me, and we spent an extra day just being tourists. There are two bath houses still in operation, and we tried one out. It wasn’t my cup of tea, but I’m glad I had the experience. We shopped and ate and enjoyed the company of each other and the wonderful audience a WNP. We also stayed in a great Airbnb, the Owl House. It was extra clean and bright and located in a beautiful area.

The visit was subdued, however, by news of the terrible school shooting in Texas. Kai teaches poetry to children in the Hot Springs schools, and she described the difficulty of teaching on Wednesday. I hadn’t planned on reading a poem I wrote several years ago, but I inserted it into my program at the last minute to focus for a moment on that tragic event. Even though it is an older poem, maybe dated, it shows that, unfortunately, not much has changed in the ensuing years. I am including a slightly updated version here:

For Days

For days we sat unmoving
watching the body of the Murrah building
in Oklahoma City,
its arteries gaping.

For days we witnessed
the spirit of Columbine
in Littleton, Colorado,
scarred by those with feelings of alienation.

For days we watched
the search in the rubble
of the glittering Twin Towers
in New York City
after they were massacred and
fell into their own dust.

Beyond our comprehension, we watch
our clubs, restaurants and theaters;
the streets where marathons are run
and people stroll on sunny days;
schools where children learn and play;
and churches open to whoever wants to enter
fall to guns and bombs.

We cannot shoot our way through our outrage
and expect it to repair the damage.
Slamming our doors shut is not the answer.
Thoughts and prayers are not a cure.
The answer lies within our conscious will
to disarm evil.

How are you dealing with the tragedies afflicting our country right now?

Reflect on these events and how they affect your day to day life.

What do you think the answers might be for stopping the violence?