Search

Poetry Breakfast

Serving 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 book reviews to feed poets' and poetry lovers' souls.

Tag

Daily Poetry

The Wild Turkey – A Poem by Marjorie Thomsen

The Wild Turkey

The difference between desire and longing came to me
in early May walking my daughter to school after seeing
a play the night before about a man who invents the universe.

On our walk, a wild turkey is hanging out in tall purple
garlic flower stalks in the neighbor’s yard and we take pictures,
walk away reluctantly but fast, knowing wild things can get wilder.

When I ask my daughter’s friend Julia to guess what we saw
she answers, “a wild turkey,” and tells us she has seen two
named Richard and Doorknob; so I know desire is a flawless

awareness of pleasures in and out of reach that we go wild for
in a universe where my daughter, purple garlic flowers, Julia and
the wild turkey will die, and longing is my desire for the impossible.

 

This poem also appears in Pretty Things Please, a collection of poems by Marjorie Thomsen.

 

About the Poet:  Marjorie Thomsen is the author of “Pretty Things Please” (Turning Point, 2016). Her poems have been nominated for a Pushcart Prize twice and she has received writing awards from the University of Iowa School of Social Work, the New England Poetry Club, and Poetica Magazine. She’s an instructor at Boston University’s School of Social Work and lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

 

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.

10 Ways to Write a Poem – A Poem by Annmarie Lockhart

10 Ways to Write a Poem

  1. Reassemble the torn bits of the poem
    ++ he left on your desk in 1989
  2. Listen to the waves wash around
    ++sanded jellyfish and mermaids
  3. Retrace the steps he took
    ++to give you a birthday kiss
  4. Dance with her in post-stroke
    ++and wedding dresses
    ++++and a virtual audience
  5. Feather the skinned knees of every
    ++smooth-cheeked kiss
  6. Drink down wine
    ++turned to water
    ++++turned to winter
  7. Stretch the length of your spine
    ++along his hand and the lined page
  8. Taste the fat of coffee cream lyrics
    ++sung by a burning boy
  9. Lock eyes with clasped hands
    ++across happy hour smiles
    ++++and congenital heart defects
  10. Commit it all to paper
    ++commit to no one
    ++++commit soul to holy hands
    ++++++commit the rest to memory

 

 

About the Poet:  Annmarie Lockhart is the founding editor of vox poetica, an online literary salon dedicated to poetry, and Unbound Content, an independent poetry press. A lifelong Bergen County, New Jersey resident, she lives, writes, and works two miles from the hospital where she was born. You can read her words at fine journals online and in print.

 

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.

To a Former Coworker – A Poem by Alyssa Trivett

To a Former Coworker

Last I heard,
you were living in the basement of a relative,
alcohol in your hand, every clock-tick,
a lawn-chair as your makeshift bed.
I remember when you told me the story
of the scar on your face;
you were eleven and weren’t wearing a seat belt,
your head lightning smashed through the windshield.
You sarcastically admitted your pill abuse.
Your sister said the intervention didn’t work.
I still remember our conversations in the warehouse.

 

 

About the Poet:  Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest, and when she isn’t working, she listens to music and scrawls lines on the back of gas station receipts. Her work has recently appeared at In Between Hangovers and Spillwords. She recently had fifteen poems published in a poetry anthology entitled Ambrosia. All proceeds from the anthology are donated to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (afsp.org). Amazon link: https://www.amazon.com/Ambrosia-Poetry-Anthology-Eric-Keizer-ebook/dp/B074WCLD69

 

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.

My stomach is – A Poem by Nancy Schatz Alton

My stomach is

remembering the cold cash tacos we ate
swallowed by the horse landscape
soothed by lashing rain & your soft/sweet compliments
I wanted to be an orange red fire tree, wise and tired,
ready for the boom/crash of love
flexed by a well-placed axe blade.

No seascape—shape-shifting clouds dropped
salt and iron on our sweat-strewn skin.

On Tuesdays, I eat tacos and think of you.

 

 

About the Poet:  Freelance writer, editor and teacher Nancy Schatz Alton spends her free time reading, writing poetry and soaking in and seeking connection in Seattle, Washington. She lives with her husband, two teen daughters, two havanese dogs and grandma’s dog (for now). Find her blog at www.withinthewords.com and a selection of her writing work at www.ParentMap.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.

The Night of the Salmon-Go-Up-River Full Moon – A Poem by Tricia Knoll

The Night of the Salmon-Go-Up-River Full Moon

A full moon blesses this cooling-off
July night, the farm, the black currants,
the tin-roof barn, the Old Spot pigs.

You and I snuggle under a comforter
as the willow sways in eddied wind.
Bone-white light stretches long javelins

of moonshine from the ten-window door,
ladders of light we don’t choose to climb
this time, a silver hopscotch on the oak floor.

Brighter than street light by my measure.
I could walk to the barn, swing
in the Nicaraguan hammock. By moon.

Your breathing deepens, a whuffing
under flutter wind. The white dog
barked at a hawk earlier; now he curls

in gold grass. Wads of his fur that I brushed out
this morning mix with the wild yarrow
and cling to fence wire, fluff ghosts.

Mt. Adams’ south rib glacier gleams.
I am alive to unwavering moonlight,
warmed up in a soft bed

seeing the world
as a negative image, both black
and white night,

foreshadow of memory.

 

This poem also appears in Knoll’s collection Broadfork Farm available from The Poetry Box.  The collection features poetry about pigs, dogs, starry nights, predators and farmers on this small organic farm in Trout Lake, Washington. Knoll is a regular farmsitter on the property.

 

About the Poet:  Tricia Knoll is an Oregon poet.  She is a frequent farmsitter at a small organic farm in Trout Lake, Washington. Broadfork Farm, her collected poems from the farm, came out in July 2017. Her work appears in many journals and anthologies as well as two other collections. Website: triciaknoll.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.

One Goddamn Chance – A Poem by Rajani Radhakrishnan

One Goddamn Chance

Maybe it was the time grandma found that starving
stray, maybe it was that miserable cur that adopted

her. She in a crisp nine yard saree, her diamond nose
ring flashing in the summer sun and that bag of fleas

limping behind her every morning to the temple and
back, they said even the river stopped and giggled as

they passed by. You cannot control who you love, she
told me, all of seven then, nor who might decide to love

you back, all you can do is take one goddamn chance.
I twist the ring around my finger slowly, letting day turn

to night, the seasons breathing in and out with me. There
has to be a reason for callouses that will not heal and circles

that don’t know how to end. What if everything travelled in
a straight line till there was nothing? What if mangy pets

never came home to sit by the door for walks that could no
longer be? You cannot search for an ending and hope that a

beginning will be waiting where you stop. Take an umbrella, I
call to him from the window, they say there is a chance of rain.

 

 

About the Poet:  Rajani Radhakrishnan is from Bangalore, India.  Finding time and renewed enthusiasm for poetry after a long career in Financial Applications, she blogs at thotpurge.wordpress.com . Her poems have recently appeared in The Ekphrastic Review, The Lake, Quiet Letter and The Cherita.

 

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.

Website Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: