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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.

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114 Reasons I Love Being A Dad – A Poem by Jim Landwehr

114 Reasons I Love Being A Dad
by Jim Landwehr 

I saved a school assignment of
my daughter’s that reads
114 Reasons My Dad is Super

It ranges from the obvious
He reads to me.
He nice.
He takes me to the park.

To the hearfelt
He dances with me
He’s a speisal dad
He takes care of me

To the admittedly hilarious
My dad sings in the sower
My dad fixed our toilit.
He reads adult books.

And even downright fabrications
He makes me cookies (Lie! Ask my wife)
He jogs with me (I did?)
Dad feet smell. (Hey!)

These 114 memories of hers are
now memories of mine and serve
as a reminder that the days are
long and the years short.

Never underestimate your
actions as a parent
they are watching.

 

About the Poet:  Jim Landwehr has two nonfiction books, Dirty Shirt: A Boundary Waters Memoir and The Portland House: A ’70s Memoir. Jim also has three poetry collections, Reciting from Memory, Written Life and On a Road.  His non-fiction stories have been published in Main Street RagPrairie Rose PublicationsSteam Ticket and others. His poetry has been featured in Torrid Literature Journal, Portage Magazine, Blue Heron Review and many others. He lives in Waukesha, Wisconsin with his wife Donna and their two children. He enjoys fishing, kayaking, biking and camping. Jim is poet laureate for the Village of Wales, Wisconsin. For more on his work, visit: http://jimlandwehr.com

If I was born a boy, I would have been my brother – A Poem by Robin Gow

If I was born a boy, I would have been my brother
by Robin Gow

“William”
but we call him “Billy”
because my dad is “Bill”
and my grandfather was also “Bill.”

I would have searched the antique market
for old leather prayer books.

I would enjoy Necco wafers and Smarties and
I would wipe their sugar-chalk on my thighs.

I would be straight.

I would like girls who smell like blackberries
and who might also vaguely believe in God
like me

I think about this all the time
what a name does to a person.

What did my first name do to me?
After all those years.

When people say “Sarah”
I still look up

as if she’ll be there.

 

 

About the Poet:
Robin Gow’s poetry has recently been published in POETRY, the Gateway Review and the Roanoke Review. He is pursuing an MFA in creative writing at Adelphi University and currently serves as the editor-at-large for Village of Crickets and the social media coordinator for Oyster River Pages. He is an out and proud bisexual transgender man passionate about LGBT issues. His first full-length collection is forthcoming with Tolsun Books.

Tucson Morning, 6 a.m. – A Poem by Geraldine Connolly

Tucson Morning, 6 a.m.
by Geraldine Connolly

I walk through the neighborhood
past the ends of driveways,
doors locked tight to guard sleepers.

The day opens like a new recipe.
I want to follow its neat
measurements, solve its problems.
Each breeze stirs a blossom.

I smell something, sweet, dusty, earthy—
sage and creosote, a whiff of mesquite.

I find a quail’s nest, its small eggs close

to my shoe like bones about to break.

I often walk, away from the thought
of border crossings, away from breaking
news toward the patient saguaros,
a babble of doves surging up
from the saltbush.

 

 

About the Poet: 

Geraldine Connolly is a native of western Pennsylvania and the author of four poetry collections: Food for the Winter (Purdue), Province of Fire (Iris Press) and Hand of the Wind (Iris Press), Aileron (Terrapin Books.)  She is the recipient of two N.E.A. creative writing fellowships in poetry, a Maryland Arts Council fellowship, and the W.B. Yeats Society of New York Poetry Prize. She was the Margaret Bridgman Fellow at the Bread Loaf Writers Conference and has had residencies at Yaddo, the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts and The Chautauqua Institute. Her work has appeared in Poetry, The Georgia Review, Cortland Review and Shenandoah. It has been featured on The Writers Almanac and anthologized in Poetry 180: A Poem a Day for American High School Students, Sweeping Beauty: Poems About Housework and The Sonoran Desert:A Literary Field Guide. She lives in Tucson, Arizona. Her website is http: www.geraldineconnolly.com  and Facebook author’s page: https://www.facebook.com/geraldineconno/

Tides of Change – A Poem by Michelle Gregory

Tides of Change
by Michelle Gregory

Like magic you arrive and disappear.
Salt water stings my open wounds.
Broken pieces of the unfortunate—nature’s reminder.
Waves pound down.

The moment has arrived.
The power underneath pulls and crashes back down.
Washing away all signs of life and death.
Seeping back in to make everything whole.
I await your next arrival.

 

 

About the Poet:
Michelle Gregory is a Canadian writer who enjoys reading and writing poetry. She loves to travel and enjoys spending time in nature with her two dogs. She is a member of the Women’s Fiction Writers Association and is currently writing her first novel.
Instagram: @iam_michelle_gregory
Twitter: @michellemgreg

Mother’s Glasses – A Poem by Gabriel Muoio

Mother’s Glasses
by Gabriel Muoio

I tried my mother’s glasses once,
when I was little, and saw what
she saw, I thought—the world
was like tears, and a haze of shifting
fog, and life was divided by a
line like some magnetic pole—
I thought it was a border, a kind of
limbo place where things decided
what they were—and what was I then?
Just a blur (poor Mother, dear
weeping woman of sorrows), I was
ascending like a puff of vapour,
though I was distant, and no one saw it,
I was translated too through the polar
channel, what I saw was life and colour,
and I condensed somewhere, at some point—
I am tears, dear Mother, you see
sadness clearly—you laughed for me,
and I love you, though I hate the
demons in you, despite my rage I would
die for you, dear Mother, you see dimly,
and though through tears I see you too,
I see you, Mother, I see you clearly.

 

About the Poet:
Gabriel Muoio is a writer from Western Australia. His poetry often explores the world of birds and nature, as well as metaphysical and supernatural topics like ghosts, death and the afterlife. He’s written two novels, one of which he has made available to read for free on his website, balaramadying.com.

Bells Palsy – A Poem by Ingrid Bruck

Bells Palsy
by Ingrid Bruck

To smile is natural until you can’t. It happens fast as a hummingbird. Nerves on one side of the face stop working. Can’t lift the left eye brow. Can’t wink the left eye. You use a finger to open or shut the eyelid. Wear a black patch over that eye to protect it. Can’t drink from a glass. To hold in a straw, you pinch your lips around it. Face and mouth sags, food and drink dribbles. People startle on meeting. You feel like a freak. Understand the Phantom of the Opera wearing a mask, want to join him in the cellar. If you could catch the thief who stole your whistle, you’d spit in his face but can’t. The not bad news is that nerves heal – you recover with gratitude at your good luck.

 

 

About the Poet:
Ingrid Bruck grows wildflowers, makes jam and writes short form poetry and haiku. She’s a retired library director living in the Amish country of Pennsylvania in the US, spends time with grandchildren and writes very day. Her first chapbook, Finding Stella Maris, was released by Flutter Press this past winter. Current works appears in Between These Shores Literary and Arts Annual, Halcyon Days, The Song Is… and Nature writing. Poetry website: www.ingridbruck.com

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