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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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Sheila Wellehan

Ice Land – A Poem by Sheila Wellehan

Ice Land

The stream never froze,
despite the arctic cold.
It grew a crackly crust –
burnt sugar on top of crème brûlée –
that broke like crystal when we crossed it.

The stream never froze,
but everything else did.
We slipped and fell,
or saved ourselves by grabbing a tree.
Finding a bit of crunchy snow
or rock-like mud to walk on
was a comfort.

The stream kept moving,
so we did too.
Across that land of ice,
where everything was hard,
when we lived in ice land.

 

 

About the Poet:  Sheila Wellehan’s poetry is recently featured or forthcoming in The American Journal of Poetry, the Aurorean, Menacing Hedge, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, Whale Road Review, and elsewhere. She lives in Cape Elizabeth, Maine. Visit her online at www.sheilawellehan.com .

 

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  TwitterFacebook, and  Tumblr,  and enjoy a new poem every morning straight to your feed.

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Adrift – A Poem by Sheila Wellehan

Adrift

Sift your history through a silver sand sieve.
Watch the cascade of holiday parties and funerals fall.
You’ll see there are five million ways it happens,
how family turns into relatives.

The last straw – the daughter miffed for the last time,
at years of disrespect and disappointment,
at getting the short end of the stick.
The end was anti-climactic.
She disappeared after her child’s forgotten birthday gift.

Then there are the spectacular fights
that result in swift ruptures,
precipitated by unfortunate observations
about children or worse.
Tiny shared worlds can explode in a moment
when one sibling pushes another over the cliff.

Huge new houses, strange new spouses,
moves cross-country.
Bankruptcy, sobriety, disease.
Small rifts grow stronger and wider
when something essential shifts.

The saddest drifts are created by neglect and exhaustion.
Without nourishment, even strong bonds starve.
We become strangers when we don’t phone or visit
because our own lives take all we have to give.

 

 

About the Poet:  Sheila Wellehan’s poetry is recently featured or forthcoming in The American Journal of Poetry, the Aurorean, Menacing Hedge, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, Whale Road Review, and elsewhere. She lives in Cape Elizabeth, Maine. Visit her online at www.sheilawellehan.com .

 

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.

Night Drive – A Poem by Sheila Wellehan

Night Drive

When we felt the sun sink
into Smuggler’s Cove

we met dead pirates plotting
and for treasure we dove.

When we smelled stars in the sky
above Joy Valley Street

we devoured cakes made of laughter
then floated higher than trees.

When we heard the moon rise
over Monastery Lane

the monks whispered a secret
how to talk to the rain.

 

 

About the Poet:
Sheila Wellehan’s poetry is featured in Chiron Review, The Fourth River, Off the Coast, Poetry East, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. She lives in Cape Elizabeth, Maine. Visit her online at www.sheilawellehan.com .

 

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.

Signature Dish – A Poem by Sheila Wellehan

 Signature Dish

How did it happen? I don’t remember choosing
there was no proclamation that this was my turf
do something right once, it’s a tradition
sweet potatoes are my signature dish.

In late November I paw through produce at the grocery
and select the finest specimens for my cart
smooth and firm, large but not overwhelming
identical in size so they’ll be done at the same time.

Thanksgiving morning, I pull out the ancient cookbook
though I know all the steps by heart
the spine opens to the splattered recipe
and I turn on the radio.

I hear past holidays as I grind orange rind and grate nutmeg
joyful parties bursting with laughter, no one wanted to go home
disastrous celebrations destroyed by psychic tornadoes
restrained gatherings where we skated around one another cautiously.

How will we remember the holiday this year?
With root vegetables, I try to influence our fate
to enhance the odds of a happy ending
with sweet potatoes more delicious than cake.

 

 

 

About the Poet:
Sheila Wellehan’s poetry is featured or forthcoming in Chiron Review, The Fourth River, Poetry East, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, Yellow Chair Review, and elsewhere. She lives in Cape Elizabeth, Maine. Visit her online at www.sheilawellehan.com .

 

 

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.

Morning Constitutional – A Poem by Sheila Wellehan

Morning Constitutional

8 a.m., the old couple strolls by my house
on their way back from the beach
as they do every day at precisely this time.

Watching them pass by
is as much a part of my morning ritual
as drinking coffee, raising the blinds

feeding the animals and showering.
They wear white hats when the sun beats down
big parkas and boots on cold days like today.

They’re well past seventy
the man holds his wife’s arm gently
in case she slips on the icy street.

They have no idea they’re watched each day
no idea someone they’ve never met
thinks of them

whenever she hears the word
romance.

 

 

 

About the Poet:
Sheila Wellehan’s poetry is featured or forthcoming in Chiron Review, The Fourth River, Poetry East, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, Yellow Chair Review, and elsewhere. She lives in Cape Elizabeth, Maine. Visit her online at www.sheilawellehan.com .

 

 

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.

Another Hot One – A Poem by Sheila Wellehan

Another Hot One

The meteorologists predict another hot day
a dangerously hot one, in fact
a day they advise you to stay inside

or park yourself next to the water.
Willard Beach is jammed by 7:45 a.m.
it’s a small beach, and not as beautiful as some

but it’s close to the city and parking is free
so it fills up quickly
some days it’s so crowded

the sea softly sighs
and if you listen, you can hear the sand groaning.
This morning mothers ensure a prime spot for their broods

by staking claims with coolers, umbrellas, and beach chairs.
Runners speed by before ozone levels rise too high
outfitted with iPods and heart monitors.

Dogs sniff and run or cool off with a swim
until they’re banned for the rest of the day when 9 strikes.
A dignified rottweiler is surprised

when a tennis ball intended for another dog hits her head
but she doesn’t mind
swarms of puppies think they’ve found their lost litters.

The collie who’s hated that damn husky for years
decides he’s not so bad –
it just took him five summers of sniffing.

For thirty glorious minutes
from fifteen minutes before low tide
until fifteen minutes past

there’s really plenty of room
there’s plenty of room here for everyone.

 

 

 

About the Poet:
Sheila Wellehan’s poetry is featured or forthcoming in Chiron Review, Ekphrastic, The Fourth River, Pittsburgh Poetry Houses, Poetry East, Rat’s Ass Review, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, Unrequited: An Anthology of Love Poems about Inanimate Objects, and Yellow Chair Review. She lives in Cape Elizabeth, Maine with two cats and two dogs. Visit her online at www.sheilawellehan.com.

 

Photo by Sheila Wellehan.

 

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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