The World Poetry Café Radio Show with host Ariadne Sawyer and co – host Una Bhruns welcomed C.J. Prince to the radio show on December 23rd on CFRO, 100.5 FM for a radio show book launch of her new book Mother, May I? The show was dedicated to Cora, the sister of World Poetry Director and Life Time Achievement Award winner Anita Aguirre Nieveras and popular World Poetry Café Radio Show host.
We had a fascinating interview with C.J. Prince featuring poems from her new book and a message to the world. Also featured was a poem and message from Dr. Stephen Gill, music by Ablaye Cissoko and Volker, unaccompanied Bach played by the cellist Yo-yo Ma and Victoria Celtic musician and singer, Valerie Gill. To hear this lovely show: CLICK HERE!
C.J. Prince found the Muse on the tar spattered shores of Summerland in fourth grade where she gouged words into sand. She’s been writing ever since. Her newest book is Mother May I? C.J. also has credits include stage, screen and TV scripts. Her first novel, Canvas Angels, is published in Catching My Breath. Her work appears in several anthologies including Leaning into the Wind: Women Write from the Heart of the West. Prince lives in the Pacific Northwest with husband Michael E. Berg, two Papillons, and one rescued orange marmalade tabby. She teaches Tai Chi and studies the dress code of cedars, the vocal patterns of ravens and the height of the moon at midnight.
“Mother, May I?” is available on amazon.com, amazon.ca, Kindle, Nook and other digital devices.
Locally it is available at Village Books, The Stone Moon, Sudden Valley Salon & Spa and The Spotted Pig
Here is a poem, followed by the Message to the World:
After Joe Brainard
I remember a gallon jar no longer
holding pimiento-stuffed martini olives,
a jar jam-crammed with marbles
pushed to the back of the wardrobe
where my brother wouldn’t find it.
Me, good with a steelie, shooting straight,
collecting, hiding all the boys’ marbles I won.
I remember they had BB guns and shot birds—
me running down by the bridge
past the orange grove—flapping my arms, “Fly, birdie, fly.”
I remember shouldering the 4/10 rifle
as my father taught me to aim down the sight
and hit a distant tin can.
I remember my step-brother-to-be shooting frogs
in the swamp where we built a raft.
I remember bright green-yellow ooze
from a dead frog’s body.
I remember a loaded gun
in the buffet at my mother-in-law’s house.
I remember being a pacifist,
belonging to Another Mother for Peace,
not allowing toy guns
in my children’s playroom.
I remember they shot with sticks.
I remember shoulder high jade plants
growing at the back door where the calico cat Daisy
left gopher entrails
or her latest batch of kittens my father would drown.
I remember my mom
driving the weapons carrier they bought after the war,
our only transportation. She painted the frames
of her sunglasses glaring red with nail polish.
I remember the Navy ship on endless gray seas
as we sailed out of the Azores to go ashore in Casablanca.
I remember the fear of being whipped.
I remember not wanting to take the garbage out
because possums with long harsh tails
slashed around the can
near the Copa d’oro twining on the garage.
I remember my mother flipping open
the wringer washer that caught my braid.
I remember my grandmother’s piano
and my hands picking out “Silent Night.”
Message to the World
The world seems abstract,
a blue and green sphere.
I speak to the earth all the time.
I sit in women’s circles,
wish her well, ask her forgiveness.
It is the people I do not know,
those who will hear my night whisper now.
If our hands touch
can I read your palms?
I want to look into your eyes
and have you see mine.
There in that sacred space
there with our eyes embraced,
there, palm to palm,
our auras intertwined,
we find peace.