Writers Resources Cafe Magazine

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Art by Mo

Cat Angst/Visit Mo's Art Gallery


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Daily Haiku

Let him drift away
On an ice floe, cold and slow;
Then take your heart South.

~~~~Mo Conlan, August 31, 2014

Visit the Daily Haiku archives

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How I Became a Redhead

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Photo and Haiku

Hail the sun dipping
below Mother Lake; come back
early tomorrow.

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Here is an excerpt from, Babies' Breath, Kathy's award-winning short story contained in her anthology of the same title:

"My heart burned as red-hot as the ancient round stones edging the fire-pit and my tears sizzled and steamed like spit when they fell into the flame." Read on here.


Kathy answers questions
for blogger, Betty Meyette,
about Babies' Breath
at this link: Meyette's Musings


Kathy's five-star-reviewed
short story collection
can be purchased by clicking :

Babies' Breath

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Sailing with the kids

presents new challenges


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Art by Mo

Kathy's story suggests that sometimes romance is a product of practical cooperation. This big family makes it to their vacation destination where Mom and Dad can brush shoulders and be simply a couple once more.

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When the newsaper
is sold out... We may miss
the Fourth Estate.

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Kathy wonders if
LIKE-MINDEDNESS
is a good thing?

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Goodbye Cancer


Patty describes her journey through Cancer-Land


- The only thing I am not behind on is haircuts.
- The only reading materials in the surgeon’s office are cancer magazines and a coffee table book on Spring Grove Cemetery...
Read the rest of Goodbye Cancer

Chapter One

Chemo-land

Side Effects


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Finding favorite books forgotten on the shelf and re-reading them twenty years after the first reading creates an interesting phenomenon. The experiences in the twenty year interval alter some sensibilities and and evoke new sentiments.

Kathy finds new reasons to re-read old favorites.

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Writer Walter Seton Bunker
has a funny chat with The Bard


I had a dream one August’s night, a dream so vaporous and yet so vivid it passes understanding. It’s hard to know what was fantasy and what reality.

In my dream I found myself striding the battlements of Elsinore.... Then a helmeted figure emerged from the fog.
Click here to read the rest of the essay.

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Visit Mo's Art Gallery

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Vase with gold and red


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Visit The Cafe Blog.
and subscribe to the Cafe.


To discover what makes us tick,
click on Biographies

Mo, Patty and Kathy


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Note to visitors:
The stories, poetry, essays and artwork
on this site are copyrighted,
owned by the writers and artists.
No commercial use of them by others is permitted.

Falling into paint and Monet

Art and story by Mo Conlan

During a dark time in my life, I began to paint -- to find my way back to light and joy. This began my life as an artist. Now, I juggle words and colors.

I am painting water lilies on my bedroom wall – a long wall about the size of the canvases Monet used for his water lilies. I go to the library, drag out oversize art books and drink in Monet’s lovely, light-filled pictures.

Having a whole wall as canvas is so freeing. Brushing on blues and greens , mixing white and a dab of orange to make peach for the blossoms. Getting into the rhythm. Using an old bath sponge to swirl paint in big arcs to show movement of the water. With a fine-haired brush, daubing on tiny freckles of paint for accent.

If no other tool is at hand that suits, I use my finger to smooth out a petal or to blend the green into the blue water. I get the colors all over me – hands, shirt, shoes, into the crevasses of the ring my mother gave me when I was a girl.

I feel for a moment what Monet might have felt sinking into the picture. The exhilaration as lily pads and blossoms begin to emerge. Nothing left of the world but artist, paint and canvas.

There is a story told about Monet that once he was so engrossed in a seacape that he did not see the tide come in. It swept away his paintbox, canvas and easel. It swept him into the sea.

He almost drowned, and when he staggered out of the water, he was covered in his paints – vest, shirt and trousers stained red and blue and yellow.

That’s how I want to paint, how I want to write, how I want to live.

Maureen ~ Mo~ Conlan is a journalist, writer of poetry and fiction and an artist.