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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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poet

Out of the Fog – A Poem by Loretta Diane Walker

Out of the Fog

This morning came galloping
with a hot vengeance
after I had only three hours of sleep.
Oh, to roll time back,
make the hours a black umbrella.

Even the gas pump is impatient.
When I lift the nozzle and insert my card,
it demands, remove card quickly.
Or what? It will not blink its eyes,
hold me hostage in the sun’s yellow breath?

How I swell with fatigue, helplessness, anger
under the command of an one-armed soulless dictator.
I squeeze its metal tongue until my tank
and the creases in my palm are full with its salvia—
the smell of someone else’s money.

I release after hearing gas spill onto my feet.
The splashing taps me out of my drowsy fog.
It’s the same type of fog I found myself falling
into when you asked, “What does the poet mean?”
then answered.

Do not ruin poetry
with that question, coax with your interpretation.
Let your students open a poem
with sticky fingers and find their own way
with gummed words in their hands.

Let them crack it open like a raw egg,
prepare to their tastes,
tell you the rose is a woman.

Once I hurled a smooth stone upwards
and turned before the stone plunged its hard life
back into the earth.

I don’t know if it struck, woke
some sleeping desire, startled it into curiosity.
When I looked up,
morning and eggs and stone were the color of air.
I saw only blue dripping from the sky.

 

 

From Word Ghetto 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.

Native – A Poem by Kimberly Paulk

Native

Every tree and flower I see,
I ask if it is native.
Was it here before time?
No, the answer comes
always the same.
India, New Caledonia, Africa
are their ancient homes.
What, then, was here?
The mountain, of course.
Always the mountain.

 

 

About the Poet:
Kimberly Paulk is a writer in Matthews, North Carolina. Her work has appeared in Ground Fresh Thursday Press as well as Charlotte Parent and Mom Writers’ Literary magazines.

 

 

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.

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.

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.

Were You With Me – A Poem by Miguel Eichelberger

Were You With Me

Were you with me when the army of peace fled the field
When the cause and the purpose ran out
++++++++When our culture couldn’t bless us
++++++++When the darker world undressed us
Were you with me when retreat escaped the mouth

I needed my companion in that life of sweet abandon
And I called and called your loveliness to ground
++++++++As our foes were clay and closing
++++++++And our fabric tore like clothing
I called so loud your name replaced the sound

Were you ever really with me when you said you would forgive me
Did you mean it when you praised the love in lust
++++++++When I ran from all you showed me
++++++++With your skin and with the lonely
Were you with me any time you spoke of trust

That army scattered windward with the feather and the cinder,
And I stood alone upon that dying field
++++++++Where I hoped you would stand with me
++++++++Whether shaming or forgiving
Either handing me your poison or your shield

 

About the Poety:
Miguel Eichelberger writes out of Vancouver, Canada with his authoress wife. He is a traveller, highwayman and untrained flautist. His poetry has appeared in literary magazines such as Vancouver Review, Existere, San Diego State University’s pacificREVIEW, Indiana University’s From The Well House, Joypuke and many others. His first play, Cave, was shortlisted for the 2015 Vancouver Fringe New Play Prize and was selected for the 2015 rEvolver festival in Vancouver.

 

 

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.

 

 

Photo by Rondell Melling.

Roads – A Poem by Rae Spencer

Roads

Every poet wants you to understand
How their road is different
Better or worse, more or less
Painful and blessed

Than the one most traveled

The one they decided against
All those years ago
When choices were possible

As if some roads lead
To different destinations
As if maps matter

Time is indifferent

Racing down all roads
Which end, in the end
At a luminous graveyard
Each stone carved with a poem

Describing a road less traveled

 

About the Poet:
Rae Spencer’s poetry has been published in print and online, receiving multiple Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominations. She can be found on the web at raespencer.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.

 

 

Photo by Hurk.

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