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For each issue of Literary Mama, Literary Reflections shares a writing prompt, inviting our readers to respond. Our editors provide feedback on the responses we receive, and we post our favorites on the blog.

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Literary Mama by Libby Maxey - 1w ago

There's a tendency to romanticize old-fashioned correspondence, now that it seems superfluous to modern life, but as a regular practice, it's not so much a romantic indulgence as a discipline.

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Literary Mama by Jamie Wendt - 1w ago
For the mother who rises / in darkness to baby sleep noises / sigh tiny cough exhale little grunt // blanketed in the film of her eye, / tucked into her heartbeat. / She cries over capturing her own silent film. // This is a new year of industry. / Tears soaking her palm, she prays hard / to the one God above the sanctuary– ...

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Literary Mama by Siham Karami - 1w ago
A modest stardom, her opera's at home: / a yam-ham Pampers rhapsody. / Part shopper, mopper, mad horse / stopper, she tames the yard, / shreds the reams, a poet trapped / at Pharaoh's hamper.

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Literary Mama by Shahé Mankerian - 1w ago
Mama sprinkled sumac on greasy burgers / because fast food smelled like burning tires. // Aleppo pepper drizzled like red rain / on the macaroni and cheese. She added // a pinch of cumin on the Cobb salad / because the ranch dressing felt naked // on her tongue.

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I doubt she'll return / the things she's taken— / a lipstick, tweezers, a necklace. // I'm not too mad, except maybe in the moment— / when I'm in the shower, leg lathered, reach for the razor / I'd left on the lip of the tub.

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Literary Mama by Jane Yolen - 1w ago
It took the town of Salem / nine months / to press and burn / its witches, / even though they had no magic. // It can take even longer / to finish a poem.

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Literary Mama by Amy Doyle - 1w ago

My mother had never been late for a concert. Preparations for each 7:30 performance began in the morning when she would hang her white “band” shirt like a basket of begonias on the front porch, where it could bleach in the best sun.

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For so long, it's been just us, my daughter and me, connected in a deep and frightening way I never anticipated when I adopted her, becoming a single parent.

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Literary Mama by Amanda Caverzasi - 1w ago

I felt like I couldn't be the writer I wanted to be. And I wasn't the mother I wanted to be. So what was I? Nothing of any value. A package of shattered tile.

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