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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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poetry journal

Lemon Cake – A Poem by Sarah Law

Lemon Cake

My mother pushes the plate away,
setting her silver fork down;

Harriett’s Special Blend has quenched
her thirst (my skin gets a heated sheen);

near us a young girl swings her legs,
her mother’s hennaed hair hangs down.

Four p.m. I am fifty next Wednesday,
not knowing how so many years

are consumed in sips & forkfuls.
Another chunk of sugared sharpness —

perhaps I should take a photograph,
capture what’s left of life’s moment;

but the neighbouring couple’s changed
into an elderly man and his wife;

he eases himself into place & asks
if I’ve been to Bettys of Harrogate,

I tell him no but I’ve been to Rome,
and by the Spanish Steps a tearoom

very like Bettys where maids in aprons
serve fine tea in a blue-cream setting,

how romantic he says, & I think of
John Keats, dying in youth and sadness,

of names unwritten in tea or water,
hear my mother repeating herself

to the elderly wife, & I lift the refilled
cup (a tearoom is a sort of hallows

where the slips in time are steeped)
& commit to finishing it.

 

 

About the Poet:  Sarah Law lives in London and teaches for the Open University and elsewhere. She has published five poetry collections, the latest of which is Ink’s Wish (Gatehouse, 2014). Other recent poems have appeared in Antiphon, Eunoia Review, Snapdragon, Stride, Blue Pepper and Ink, Sweat & Tears. Follow her on twitter @drsarahlaw

 

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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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.

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.

Fractures in Time – A Poem by Michelle Gregory

Fractures in Time

When
is a second not a second;
a minute not a minute.
Do you need minutes,
to have seconds?

Seconds;
first love,
a day at the beach,
summer.

Minutes;
divorce,
a day of rain,
winter.

Your last breath,
an hour.

 

About the Poet:  Michelle Gregory works in the banking industry and lives in Hong Kong. She is Canadian and enjoys spending time outdoors with her two dogs. She is a member of the Womens Fiction Writers Association and is currently working on her first novel.

 

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.

While your husband is still able to stand – A Poem by Deirdre Fagan

While your husband is still able to stand

you fasten the tabs
by reaching around from behind,
and your wrist is tickled by his hairy
middle, while you lean in, close your
eyes, and pause to smell the skin on his back.

When your husband tells you to call
what he’s been wearing diapers
because that’s what they are,
you do.

His head lowers as you finish the job.

When you get groceries, he encourages you to
take your time, enjoy being without him,
not to rush home, he is clean. He will be find.

No matter how many times you tell
him it doesn’t matter to you,
you will be unable to unburden him.

Upon learning, as you set down the groceries,
he has called an aid, instead of you,
a gift to you, the way he used to do
the vacuuming, or bring you flowers,
your own head will lower.

You will place the ice-cold coffee you have
brought him, beside his chair and thank him
for being alive.

 

About the Poet:  Deirdre Fagan is a widow, newlywed, and mother of two who has published poetry, fiction, and nonfiction in Connotation Press, Eunoia ReviewInk Sweat & TearsMuddy River Poetry ReviewWords Apart, and Yellow Chair Review, among others.  She teaches literature and writing at Ferris State University where she is also the coordinator of creative writing.  Meet her at deirdrefagan.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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