Books by Janice
- Written and illustrated by Janice Lynch Schuster, What Are Mothers For? is the first in a series about the people we love and live with. In Mothers, the brief story follows the milestones in our lives, from the first day of school to our first heartbreak, and from learning to cook to learning to let go. Twenty percent of proceeds are donated to Reading Partners Baltimore, whose mission helps struggling readers know and achieve the joy of reading.
- Janice displays her artwork on Handmade from Amazon. Work inspired by poetry, music, and experiences of beauty. Commissions taken for drawings and notecards, too. See her Etsy Shop
- Practical advice and down-to-earth comfort for people facing life’s end and their loved ones. Handbook for Mortals
- Poetry about aging, love, family and boxing. Saturday at the Gym
Tag Archives: Poetry
There are no ghosts for me to fear. When you arrive here, mid-dream, post- midnight, you appear whole and rested, your mind ready and quick as ever. We get on with things. You are dressed in our favorite shade of … Continue reading
I ate that apple, whole. I spit its tiny black seeds into my hands. Later, I’ll plant them to see what clay makes, other than that creature who found me here, blaming me for that ache in his side, and … Continue reading
for Meme, 1920-2015 Birds flew, like checkmarks in the sky marking off the clouds. Where I stand, I can close one eye and squint. I find your face, drifting in the light. Birds travel so quickly and far, to a … Continue reading
what did I mean to save that day I stood pounding your chest, fired by urgency that was not love but habit a current that ran once? I felt it for years even after it had stopped and you could … Continue reading
I was forged by desire, hot, molten, flaming that lovers stoked at their own risk. They melted into me. I was hammered by love, reduced by its aftermath. My leaden feet lifted by force of will, I learned to dance … Continue reading
What we needed, we did not want. What we wanted, we did not need. Whatever safety I sought in you Did not exist there. We were in a cold room, two sticks for hearts. When they rubbed together, … Continue reading
My poem, What the Poor Do, in The New Verse News.
The air is so heavy Even the well notice the labor of the lungs, and all we take for granted, that our machines in their molecular perfection might run forever. Cicadas’ summer roar reminds us of forces beyond our control. … Continue reading
Just under the wire, responding to the question of my favorite work–my own piece of writing. This question reminds me of the hedging that sometimes occur when people ask about favorite children; as the mother of six, I have come … Continue reading