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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.

When We Hear Stars – A Poem by Ray Sharp

When We Hear Stars

When we hear stars
we think backlit pinholes
on black velvet and we wonder
what lies beyond the smooth surface
of the finite expanding universe.

Other nights we think
star wombs pregnant with iron
giving birth to planet children
like a fusion of mass and energy
unbounded by love’s strange topologies.

 

About the Poet:  Ray Sharp is the author of Memories of When We Were Birds; Dating Tips for Conservatives, A New Poetry Primer for a Desperate Age; and the forthcoming A Is for Atheist, B Is for Buddhist. Ray blogs at newnewlimingablues.wordpress.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.

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A Wish Come True – A Poem by Lynn White

A Wish Come True

When he was very young
he was told that if he wished hard enough,
his wish would come true.
Later,
much too late,
he was told to be careful of his wishes,
that sometimes they came true
and were regretted.
He often thought back to the tricycle,
to how he tried to ride it over too rough ground
and learned that even the most stable of things
can topple
and result in calamity.
He no longer makes wishes
now
he knows.

 

 

About the Poet:  Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. Her poem ‘A Rose For Gaza’ was shortlisted for the Theatre Cloud ‘War Poetry for Today’ competition 2014. This and many other poems, have been widely published, in recent anthologies such as – ‘Alice In Wonderland’ by Silver Birch Press, ‘The Border Crossed Us’ from Vagabond Press – and journals such as Apogee, Firewords Quarterly, Pilcrow and Dagger, Indie Soleil, Midnight Circus and Snapdragon.
Find Lynn at: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lynn-White-Poetry/1603675983213077?fref=ts and lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.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.

Cold – A Poem by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Cold

Fresh snow
with the same fox trail
ahead of us
each morning…

The cold at times
becomes unmovable,
but we must
meet her at her throat;

we must reach down
inside ourselves
for strength,
or we will be swallowed up

like the coyote
that morning
who stood his ground,
unmovable,

his yellow eyes
shadowing our eyes.

 

 

About the Poet: Ethel Mortenson Davis was born in Wisconsin where her parents were dairy farmers. Her years on the farm instilled a deep sense of the earth. After high school she studied fine art at the University of Wisconsin—Madison with Milton Resnick, one of the great abstract artists of the 20th century.  Influenced by the imagist poets, she has had four books of poetry published. Her poems have appeared in magazines, international and regional anthologies, and small literary journals. She lives in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin with her husband and two dogs where her daughters and grandchildren come to visit on a regular basis. Her son died of cancer a number of years ago.

 

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.

Before Dawn – A Poem by Joan Higuchi

Before Dawn

Before a gleam appears
on the ledge of the horizon-
Before the sky blushes
in acknowledgment
of the compliments
of early risers-
Before a glint of sunlight
torches the dew on grass
creating sparklers

I kiss the dark, stand
Queen of the Night
naming shadows-
snatch pleasure from
the absence of noise
the cacophony of people
and the impedimenta
of their lives

soak myself in peace
filled with the quiet sounds
of the working world
a dancer poised on one toe
as though time and motion
are unrelated

until a robin in nearby nest
announcing perception
of the shift of light
burbles in his exotic language
clear in its translation.

 

Published in Joan Higuchi’s chapbook  A World of Small Things Singing  (www.finishinglinepress.com)

 

About the Poet:  Joan Higuchi is a multiple prize winner in Writer’s Digest contests, including a category first place as well as the Miracles competition sponsored by the Walt Whitman Birthplace Association. Her poems have appeared in many online and print productions and she is the author of one chapbook of nature poems A World of Small Things Singing (www.finishinglinepress) and a collection based on her work as an RN in the field of mental health (www.localgemsopetrypress.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.

Don’t We Always? – A Poem by James Diaz

Don’t We Always?

“I know words fail you
And I know sometimes I do too”
-Kris Delmhorst

fields of gold
a song I loved long ago
when the stars were bigger
than my heartaches

I wrestled with the wind
like a lost weed on the prairie of night
aching but some joy there too

wish I had birds
in my bones
I’m limited
as a human
I hold the wheel
too hard

sometimes we all fold our best hand
because we can
and the hours add up
on a body

not always
but every now and then
I see a sunset
and I want to crawl inside of myself
and match that kind of glowing

but I can’t
so I take to the poem
like I once did with the bottle
for a little transcendence

I know you know
how impossibly hard
it is to make that enough

 

 

About the Poet:  James Diaz is the founding editor of the literary arts & music journal Anti-Heroin Chic http://heroinchic.weebly.com/. His poems can be found in Quail Bell Magazine, HIV Here & Now, Foliate Oak and Ditch. His debut book of poems, This Someone I Call Stranger, is forthcoming from Indolent Books (2018).

 

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.

Mama – A Poem by Lauren Scharhag

Mama

My mother is not tall
Or, I guess,
She is tall for a Michoacana,
Towering a full five inches over the abuelas.

In her heels, with her hair teased,
She could almost pass for statuesque.
But with such beauty,
Who needs height?
She had no problem finding a second man
When my father didn’t pan out.

How many hours did I spend
Watching her wind her hair around hot rollers
The fog of Aqua Net leaving its metallic tang
In the back of my throat.

I remember the evening gowns,
The peach-colored one with the sequined appliques,
My favorite, because I thought it made her look
Like a Spanish mermaid.

How over the years
We stood at the sink together,
Comparing our hair: Whose was longer.
Whose was thicker. Whose grew faster.

My tias would say, “I don’t know how you guys
Can stand it, all that hair. I’d cut it off,
Or at least thin it.”

Other women’s jealousy is
Something to be cultivated
Like a rare and toxic flower.

Even now,
My mother insists her hair has some natural wave
(It doesn’t)
And that mine is finer
(It isn’t)

I think, this is the way it should be.
We should all want to be like our mothers.

Until one day, I don’t.

I refuse it all.
I let my hair go toda greñuda.
I eschew makeup.
I hide my curves in boy clothes
And my face behind books.
Later, I will get tattoos
And a prescription for birth control.
I decide who I reveal myself to
And how much.

I grow to her same height
But otherwise so different;

I take control of my body
In ways she never dreamed of.

 

 

About the Poet: Lauren Scharhag is a writer of fiction and poetry. She is the recipient of the Gerard Manley Hopkins Award for poetry and a fellowship from Rockhurst University for fiction. She lives in the Florida Panhandle with her husband and three cats. To learn more about her work, visit: www.laurenscharhag.blogspot.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.

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