a pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis
Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Fannie Lou Hamer was beaten by a policeman until he couldn’t beat her any longer, so he had his partner continue the beating. That day, Fannie Lou left part of her brain there on the ground, but she didn’t leave her courage. She came back for more. Because she only wanted her people to be free, free from fear, free from beatings, free from death just free to enjoy life, to be wholly human.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry
Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis
Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
I’m sure night was made when man invented war so that darkness would put her arms around him, slowing him down so that he could think things over. And then at dawn start new again. I’m sure night was made when war came to this family, breath knocked out of the man, the woman and child languishing in the street. Darkness would give them a few moments of relief. I’m sure darkness was made when man invented war.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry
a photograph by Kevin Michael Davis, 2/16/1982 – 7/23/2010

Outside of Ouray, Colorado. He would have been 40 years old today. We miss him.
Filed under Art, Photography
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Now, they want to clip the ears of the Gray Wolf, clip them back until the wolves are almost decimated, weakening their packs to almost extinction. The native tribes of Wisconsin and Montana have stood up for the wolf. They see themselves parallel to the wolf. They too were killed back to almost extinction, starved and hounded, brothers to the wolf in life and suffering. The hunters carry away the great, large bodies of wolves in their arms, laughing as they go. I remember the Gray Wolf that morning as he rolled down a steep embankment, looking like a great ball of white and gray fur, laughing as he went.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry
Ethel and I just received the January issue of “Moss Piglet” today, and boy are we excited! Ethel has three pastels and two poems in this issue, and I have two poems. I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the “Moss Piglet,” but I have a recommendation for you. Go to the “Moss Piglet” website, order a copy, and then submit a poem as soon as you possibly can.
Neither Ethel nor I knew about this publication until a couple of months ago when Ron Czerwien, the President of the Council of Wisconsin Writers, mentioned that we ought to consider submitting to it, that he was absolutely blown away by the publication with its full color art, superior design, and great poetry. Following Ron’s advice always seems like a good idea, so Ethel and I sent in some poems. Ethel decided to send in three pastels as well.
We were amazed when we got almost immediate acceptance emails from John Bloner, the Editor. Then, curious about what the publication was about, I ordered a three month subscription. Like Ron, I was blown away when our December issue showed up in the mail. This is maybe the most beautiful literary journal I’ve ever seen.
I’ve put together three magazines/literary journals in my lifetime. Richard Brenneman, today a Boston poet, and I did “The Rimrock Poets Magazine” in Grand Junction, Colorado when I was a young college student. Then I became the Associate Editor (or something like that) of “The New Quiver,” which won All American honors while I was at the University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh. Working with the Shawano County Arts Council I worked with Russell Ferrall, the great Wisconsin poet who was a pioneering presence in the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets, to put together “Wisconsin Trillium.” I’ve also published two major poetry anthologies, and Ethel and I have put out a small library of books with Four Windows Press. This doesn’t count the time that Ethel and I acted as Editors for one issue of “Bramble.”
What I want to say by saying all of this is that both Ethel and I understand how challenging publishing can be. It is a slog, working ceaselessly to find good content and then putting it together into a package that is worth looking at and reading. The truth is that “Moss Piglet” is a home run. It’s a blazing star at its beginnings in a star incubator shining out into the glory of the universe.
I urge everyone reading this post to get a copy and submit their best work to it. This is a publication worth supporting with a subscription so that John Bloner doesn’t get tired and stop producing what is a monthly series of masterpieces.
A moss piglet, by the way, is an animal, a Tardigrade, an eight legged, segmented micro-beast that is almost indestructible. It can even survive in the vacuum of space for extended periods of time.
Filed under Essays