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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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Archita Mittra

this is how you remember high school – A Poem by Archita Mittra

this is how you remember high school

a dreamed-up kiss, too tight clothes & claustrophobic skin, the world spiraling into sense, the chemistry of falling out of love, the wingless phoenix struggling to fly, multiplying loneliness, the certainty of being a lab experiment gone wrong, sleepovers at houses that were never home, all the wrong shades of lipstick, discovering creative ways to slit your wrist & hiding it beneath pretexts and long black sleeves, turning scars into temporary tattoos, learning the hard way that swearing is cool but lesbian is an ugly word, the world spiraling out of sense, the dark drowning like prufrock, the taste of new words on your tongue, spying far away futures on the lawn, sky-walled classrooms & sunlight filtering through unwashed curtains, too-long waiting for too-short poetry lessons, conversations in shadowy corridors with someone you almost fell in love with, the utter depravity of clocks that refused to abide by the rules, walking past unchanging streets, people wearing different faces each day, growing up & apart, burnt diaries, leaving words unsaid, this sense of being so close yet invisible (forever)

 

 

About the Poet:
Archita Mittra is a wordsmith and visual artist with a love for all things vintage and darkly fantastical. She occasionally practices as a tarot card reader.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/archita_mittra
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/camelot_queen1996/
Website: https://thepolyphonicphoenix.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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Bad Girl Love – A Poem by Archita Mittra

Bad Girl Love

you always liked slicked, slender arms around you
and torn jeans from the old movies, which you’ve
stashed beneath the mattress, along with empty
cigarette packets and mutilated pulp magazines.
the men you loved took your childhood in exchange.
in your dreams, you were a rockstar, a wild-eyed thing.

in the novel that you’ll never ever write, cinderella misses
curfew to hook up with the prince who reaches under
her mattress-gown to find a barren planet. she’ll later
trap her stepmother and sisters inside an oven, along
with the glass slippers and bake them for thanksgiving.
and then, the men shall write stories of her terrible majesty.

at night, you wear lipstick and a see-through white
petticoat that smells of stale love and sleep awake
on a mattress below which you’ve hidden your heart.
you are singing cinderella’s song in a way men never
do, even as werewolves or starved princes eye you
from the shadows. your smoke rings are little tiny hearts.

 

 

About the Poet:
Archita Mittra is a wordsmith and visual artist with a love for all things vintage and darkly fantastical. She occasionally practices as a tarot card reader.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/archita_mittra
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/camelot_queen1996/
Website: https://thepolyphonicphoenix.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.

Past Tense – A Poem by Archita Mittra

Past Tense

i. lost space
we fall in love when we both decide that we don’t like airport bookstores: too sterile, too polished, too alienating for those who treasure the tales in the spaces between the black curlicues. we wander through cobblestone streets, savoring street side apple tarts and laughing like children in summer. we discover what secrets taste like in a dusty, amber-lit secondhand bookshop where novels have pages ripped out or eaten by worms or love rhymes scrawled along the yellowing margins. we invent our own happily-ever-afters for the characters whom the authors had left behind as we run through a universe of shimmering streetlights, chased by the villains we had imagined into life, the night air alive with anticipation.

ii. over the rainbow
in another city, we walk hand-in-hand, past painted mannequins and toy shops, their French names melting on our tongues like chocolate. you offer to buy me lingerie-soft lace, the shade of a shy blush, the one i wear in my far away, sun-kissed beach at the edge of my dreams. our conversation is suddenly awkward now, incoherent; someone’s tears are on my face. a streetlamp peeping at us from the corner, is stuttering, ashamed. the alleyway is half-dark, i can almost make out the lewd graffiti inscribed on the wall behind you, before my skin burns as your lips kiss my forehead, like a guardian angel from a faerytale. we don’t remember how we reach the bridge and we don’t care. the stones can crumble and the dark waters can swallow us whole if our universe wills it so.

iii. view beyond
you’re beautiful in moonlight, reciting Rilke’s poetry to me and to the starlit jubilant heavens above. our gondola is swaying gently in the nighttime breeze, and we are sure that Rilke knew all the secrets of the universe, the answers to the loneliness and nostalgia that had stitched themselves into our hearts, like an ugly embroidery. but for now, we don’t need the answers, for we are finally pulling apart those ancient threads, one by one, carefully and lovingly and releasing them into the air-wisps of colored smoke that swirl and spiral into shimmering fireworks, dazzling the mythical city awake.

iv. elements of an adventure
we lie side by side on the cool mossy forest floor, panting heavily, our fingers entwined so tightly that if the Beast chooses to return for our bones, we will go together. through the canopy we can make out the Northern Lights-the iridescent blue-green patterns of luminescence, glowing and glittering like the sky of another world. a snowflake lands on my nose and we believe it has journeyed all the way from a different universe, a good omen. we promise to wait here till the Beast finds us again or the snow buries us with tender cruel love.

v. down the rabbit hole
when the world is falling apart, we’re high up in an aeroplane. we know this is the moment, the moment where one of us grabs the single parachute and jumps. you tell me, in your musical, mystical voice that i’m the chosen one, i am the storyteller who writes the epilogue. i created this universe, i reveal to you, and therefore i must be the one to stay behind, to be the one who does not wake up, because we both know what this falling means. but you were always the cleverer one, the more beautiful and reckless and when you push me out and i fall through strange galaxies and aeons of empty space, i wonder how, how could i have misimagined you so much. perhaps you were real after all, and everything else in my real world is unreal.

 

 

About the Poet:
Archita Mittra is a wordsmith and visual artist with a love for all things vintage and darkly fantastical. She occasionally practices as a tarot card reader.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/archita_mittra
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/camelot_queen1996/
Website: https://thepolyphonicphoenix.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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