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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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kay robertson

Tested by Kay Robertson

Tested
by Kay Robertson

Critically ill, hurting,
mind fogged by drugs,
he endures possible cures,
deadly side effects;
survival remains
a fickle bitch.

A year later, despite the odds,
scarred by many surgeries
he’s very much alive.

Home at last, he wants
to get his driver’s license back,
fly the Cessna again,
apply for grad school.

He’s always loved to write;
poetry, prose will come
from mind, spirit tested by fire,
wisdom paid for in blood.

Kay Robertson lives near Puget Sound. Much of her poetry is inspired by the unique beauty of Washington State. She belongs to Writer’s University Word Weavers on-line poetry group. Her work appears in Pirene’s Fountain Japan Anthology, Soundings Review, Loch Raven Review, Sugar Mule.

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Spin by Kay Robertson

Spin
by Kay Robertson

Incoming tides crash
on battered shore,
determined waves
splinter sunlight,
shadows tremble.

What was visible
moments ago
becomes obscured
by murky cross-currents.

In politics, veracity
resides in the depths,
at the mercy of slippery facts.

Kay Robertson lives near Puget Sound. Much of her poetry is inspired by the unique beauty of Washington State. She belongs to Writer’s University Word Weavers on-line poetry group. Her work appears in Pirene’s Fountain Japan Anthology, Soundings Review, Loch Raven Review, Sugar Mule.

It Comes Down to This by Kay Robertson

It Comes Down to This
by Kay Robertson

I sit alone in a sunny room at the adult family home,
waiting for a caregiver to wheel me to dinner.

In the hall I hear a familiar voice,
“Help me, help me.”

“What’s the matter, Antonette?”

“I can’t find my house…”

“Why don’t you come visit me while you
think about it?”

Antonette pushes her walker into the room;
I reach out a gnarled hand to hold hers.
She smiles. I smile, too.

Despite deficits of aging,
I haven’t lost the capacity to be a friend.

Kay Robertson lives near Puget Sound in Washington State. Always an avid reader, semi-retired at sixty-five, she started writing poetry and joined an on-line poetry group at Writers Village University. Her work appears in Pirene’s Fountain Japan Anthology, Soundings Review, Loch Raven Review, Sugar Mule.

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