Writer of the Month


I plan to feature a writer every month that has been a part of the Shemom journey. Lois Greene Stone has been contributing her work to Shemom since 2001. She has also been a very positive influence on me personally with her feedback and encouragement. Her continued support of Shemom has been greatly appreciated and it is always a pleasure to share her work with others.

Lois is a writer and poet whose work has been syndicated worldwide. Her poetry and personal essays have been included in hard & softcover book anthologies including Chicken Soup for the Soul. She has been adjunct faculty as a teacher of English Composition at a private college in Rochester, New York. Collections of her personal items/ photos/ memorabilia are in major museums including twelve different divisions of The Smithsonian.

I hope you enjoy the following works by Lois, thanks for stopping by.


We baked cookies.
Nothing unusual
Except she rolled
The dough.
Her hair confined
By a rubber band
Then tied with a
Ribbon. Nothing
Unusual except
She now wore
Earrings. My
Daughter, quietly
She grew.

©1976 Harlequin Enterprises     (Reprinted: Fall-Winter 2003-2004 Shemom)

my sister

I held the handles
of your two-wheeler,
running along the
driveway to get
rubber tires rolling.
I let go and you
continued to pedal
alone, for the first
time. When your lips
initially felt gloss
gliding with its pale
pink color, I was there.
We giggled as girlhood
gave way to teen cycles,
dating, graduation; now
I’ve helped slip a veil
over your bridal face.
Though you’re a wife,
I’ll forever be your
older sister to share
blessings and beginnings

Spring-Summer 2001 Shemom


My nails have no polish.
They’re clipped short.
My hands are not smooth,
And lotion can’t help.
Tiny clumps of dirt
Seem embedded, and
Indifferent to soaps.
Useful hands, planting,
weeding, seeding, pinching,
nurture my soul as well
as my garden.

©2005 The Jewish Press; (reprinted:2007 Shemom); (reprinted: May 2014 Hardcover Book “Garden Blessings”, Viva Editions/Cleis Press)


come back…
didn’t finish
your life.

©1990 Green’s Edu. Pub.           (Reprinted: Winter 2017 Shemom)

Wooden-handled shovel
was not evacuating stubborn
weeds. I automatically
bent with my knees and
scooped soil into metal,
then tossed contents into
the brown cavern containing
my mother’s coffin. But
I also felt the gift my
mother gave me, life, and
whispered “thanks” almost
as if she could still hear.

2003 Green’s Educational Publication      (Reprinted: Spring 2012 Shemom)

children grown

no matter where I hide
it seeks me out…
no matter how swiftly I run
it catches up with me…
no matter where I go
it follows me:
like a shadow is my loneliness.

Fall/Winter 2006 Shemom