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Poetry Breakfast

Beginning March 20th, 2016 Poetry Breakfast will once again serve a little poetic nourishment every morning. Start your day with our new expanded menu. Poems, of course, are our specialty. But we will also be serving a fuller menu that includes poetry related creative non-fiction such as letters to and from poets, essays on poetry, and anything else that might feed a poet and poetry lover’s soul.

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Kristina England

Two Poems by Kristina England

Now that I think about it

I don’t understand the bumble bee,
why it wastes time impregnating flowers.

I hate commitment, imagine
myself coasting around,

never stopping long enough
to foster growth of any kind.

Then I see my nephew, how
he has sprouted from love,

think I could give of myself,
shed some of the life

I’ve been saving for
nothing else.

 

 

Dear Potential Boyfriend

You are an overripe
orange,

too mushy
to enjoy.

Trust me,
your kindness
will turn to mold.

My unfortunate taste
for a tart lemon
will do you
in.

 

About the Poet:
Kristina England resides in Worcester, Massachusetts.  Her writing has been published in several magazines, including Gargoyle, Muddy River Poetry Review, New Verse News, and Silver Birch Press.  You can follow her work at https://kristinadengland.wordpress.com/

 

Photo by Jil Wellington.

 

Poetry Breakfast accepts submissions of poetry and poetry related creative non-fiction year-round.  See our Submission Guidelines page for details on submitting your work.

Start your morning with a nourishing poem.  Follow us on  Twitter, Facebook, and  Tumblr,  and enjoy a new poem every morning straight to your feed.

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When I Was Thirty – A Poem by Kristina England

When I was thirty

I once ate the moon
for dinner.

I was a butterfly then,
still half connected to my cocoon,
left wing ripped, hanging
on by its last thread, the other
compensating.

Doctors never cured me,
so I swallowed the craters,
let them seal me
from within.

These days,
people call me eagle.
I’ve tied that thread so tight,
it’s managed to trick
the common eye.

 

 

 

About the Poet:
Kristina England resides in Worcester, Massachusetts.  Her writing has been published in several magazines, including Gargoyle, Muddy River Poetry Review, New Verse News, and Silver Birch Press.  You can follow her work at https://kristinadengland.wordpress.com/

 

Photo by Mystic Art Design.

 

Poetry Breakfast accepts submissions of poetry and poetry related creative non-fiction year-round.  See our Submission Guidelines page for details on submitting your work.

Start your morning with a nourishing poem.  Follow us on  Twitter, Facebook, and  Tumblr,  and enjoy a new poem every morning straight to your feed.

 

In opposition to you leaving by Kristina England


In opposition to you leaving

by Kristina England

I found the duffle bag of clothes you stuffed
when you woke to our day on the wrong side.

It happens, but go ahead, shove off. Good luck
finding remedies in the forward motion of legs.

Look in the hallway mirror before you head out.
Witness the weight of leaving – your eyes

heavy with the lapping of water-logged buckets.
There’s bound to be a few leaks. It’s okay.

Soon the words will pool over and stream
down your cheeks in murmuring rivers

you’ll hear the splashing of language
saying, “Go back. Go back. Go back.”

Try to stop the flowing water.
Try to swim uphill through the dirge.

Kristina England resides in Worcester, Massachusetts. She is an active member of the poetry community serving on the Board of Directors for the Worcester County Poetry Association and an assistant editor for Ballard Street Poetry Journal. She also runs a local poetry workshop. Her poetry is published or forthcoming in Gargoyle, Haggard and Halloo, Nib Review, and other journals. For more on her poetry, visit kristinaengland.blogspot.com.

This poem is not an autobiography by Kristina England

This poem is not an autobiography
by Kristina England

If it was, I would tell you how my nose slants to the left
from the time I fell into a marble table while jumping on
my grandmother’s couch. How I wasn’t old enough to feel.
I would write that I lost my tongue at the age of seven
to the first boy who caught my heart. That a heart grows
wings in order to flutter out of the cold clasp of hands
(a dove can only thrash for so long). I would warn you
that a boy does not let go of what he owns. Instead,
he springs into a thousand men, hands interlocked,
stretching into a monotonous rope around the bird.
How she thinks of light when the darkness comes.

Kristina England resides in Worcester, Massachusetts. She is an active member of the poetry community serving on the Board of Directors for the Worcester County Poetry Association and an assistant editor for Ballard Street Poetry Journal. She also runs a local poetry workshop. Her poetry is published or forthcoming in Gargoyle, Haggard and Halloo, Nib Review, and other journals. For more on her poetry, visit kristinaengland.blogspot.com.

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