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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.

from the porch swing – A Poem by Claretta Holsey

from the porch swing

from the porch swing, I see
people pumping past
their limits,
cars swinging like pendulum
to the extremity of
what I see as road,
sun slinging light this way
into the dry street,
clouds swinging shade away
from the fawning trees.
to and from, I swing
because I heard that breeze
could tame. the rhythms
dizzy. I can’t get up from
here. the rhythms
hold, ball and chain
and ray,
wood and steel
until.

 

 

About the Poet:
Claretta Holsey is a student at Stetson University, class of 2019. She is currently a sophomore, majoring in English and minoring in Creative Writing and French. Though she pursues these studies in Florida, her home will always be Georgia. Her work is influenced by the timbres of jazz and Pentecostal psalms.

 

 

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.

Carpenter Sunrise – A Poem by Joe Cottonwood

Carpenter Sunrise

From my window I see
branches dripping
gray fog.
I face a long day
heaving heavy boards,
testing
my brittle back,
glasses wet
with sweat,
porcupine fingers
bristling splinters,
shaping lumber
with a clear heart.
+++++++ Carpenter, carpenter, what do you say?
+++++++ Cut wood all day,
+++++++ bring home the pay:
+++++++ a pocketful of sawdust.
With strange joy
I can’t wait
to begin.

 

 

About the Poet:
Joe Cottonwood has worked as a carpenter, plumber, and electrician for most of his life. Nights, he writes. His most recent book is 99 Jobs: Blood, Sweat, and Houses.
joecottonwood.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.

April in Indiana – A poem by Lylanne Musselman

April in Indiana

Squall clouds romp and rumble east,
flashing memories of the root cellar

located in my grandparent’s back yard.
An underground bunker born out of fright

from Palm Sunday tornadoes in 1965.
I remember the static on our transistor radio:

Petulia Clark’s “Downtown” voice interrupted
by constant bleeps of tornado warnings,

appropriately, “Down in the Boondocks” broke in
as we descended into that damp root cellar,

birthing its own fright: water rushing in ankle deep,
flooding a tunnel that echoed a dank and dark tomb,

us dodging camel crickets that leapt sideways off walls;
overhead, daddy longlegs dropped and dangled,

and brooding thunder thumped the ground,
expelling uneasy gasps into the electric air.

 

 

About the Poet:
Lylanne Musselman is an award winning poet, playwright, and artist, living in Indianapolis, IN. Her work has appeared in Pank, Flying Island, Poetry Breakfast, The New Verse News, Ekphrastic Review, and Rat’s Ass Review, among others, and many anthologies.  In addition, Musselman has twice been a Pushcart Nominee. She is the author of three chapbooks, with a fourth forthcoming, Weathering Under the Cat, from Finishing Line Press. She also co-authored Company of Women: New and Selected Poems (Chatter House Press, 2013).

 

 

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 Joy – A Poem by Tom Montag

Morning Joy

The sudden birds
of morning,
then the light

and the distant
line of horizon,
knife-edge

of the world.
The air is keen
with rustling.

I hold this,
I hold all this,
saying Yes.

 

 

About the Poet:
Tom Montag is the author of In This Place: Selected Poems 1982-2013, This Wrecked World, and The Miles No One Wants. He has been a featured poet at Atticus Review, Contemporary American Voices, Houseboat, and Basil O’Flaherty Review, and received Pushcart Prize nominations from Provo Canyon Review,Blue Heron Review, and The Lake.

 

 

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.

Poet Dreaming – A Poem by Loretta Diane Walker

Poet Dreaming

No sky could hold so much light.
—Mary Oliver

Poems are nomads paddling through darkness
collecting words from the arms
of Orion, Sagittarius, and Perseus
before camping in a poet’s dream.
She sees souls as colliding galaxies,
holes of light burning
with millions to trillions of stars
too bright to fit in the cavity of sky.

Those stars are poems
crammed in the dusty envelopes of mortal bodies,
shimmering beneath white ribbons of bone.
A silhouette of stars floats in the window of her eye.
The energy of need forces tiny hands to brush
against the small wings of a sigh hovering in the evening.

She hears the silhouette speak
in a voice the timbre of a piccolo,
“Look Mommy! I caught a butterfly.”
On the other side of her dream, she sees the light of joy,
and a moth beating its powdery gray life
in the basket of a child’s palms.

 

 

From “In This House” published by Bluelight Press.

 

 

About the Poet:
Loretta Diane Walker won the 2016 Phyllis Wheatley Book Award for poetry, for her collection, In This House. She is a five time Pushcart nominee. She has published three collections of poetry. Her manuscript Word Ghetto won the 2011 Bluelight Press Book Award. She teaches music in Odessa, Texas.  Loretta received a BME from Texas Tech University and earned a MA from The University of Texas of the Permian Basin.

 

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.

The Cottage – A Poem by Sarah Russell

The Cottage

I’ve grown quiet here. My mind
has opened to woodsong
and the smell of earth turned
by a trowel.

I enjoy solitude, even when regrets
or the throb of an old lover happen by.
Sometimes I invite them in, make
a ritual of teacups on starched linen,
a silver server for the scones.
We reminisce ’til shadows trace
across the floor, call them away.

Afterwards, I tidy up, wipe away
drops spilled in the pouring. I save
the leftovers though they’re getting stale.
I may crumble them on the porch rail
tomorrow for sparrows
before I garden.

 

 

About the Poet:
Sarah Russell has returned to poetry after a career teaching, writing and editing academic prose. She has over 80 poems published in Kentucky Review, Red River Review, Misfit Magazine, Shot Glass Journal, and many other journals and anthologies.  Her poetry has won contests through both Goodreads and Poetry Nook, and she has been a featured poet at Days of Stone and The Houseboat.  She blogs at SarahRussellPoetry.net

 

 

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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