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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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poetry prompt

“Only Poetry (Never) Lies” – Poetry Potluck and Inspiration Buffet 6/12/16

Inspiration Buffet – This week’s Inspiration Buffet features two poems by Maggie Koger that stir up many questions about the natural (or artificial) ingredients of poetry.

 

Fantastic Voyage
by Maggie Koger

Sky whispers blue and then
reddens–prefacing dark.

Wind whistles and roars
shattering calm updrafts.

Rainbow arches in spectrum
a smooth curvilinear bow.

Water steams, bubbles, boils
incited by fire.

Waves pound and stars blink.
None of this is imagined.

Verb folding inward
still as a held breath.

 

 

Verities
by Maggie Koger

Ice melts
Silt settles
Sand washes
Waves rise
++++++and fall
Fish leap
Terns dive
Sun flames
Clouds rally
++++++then drift
Only poetry (never) lies

 

Maggie Koger is a Media Specialist with a writing habit. She lives and works in Boise and celebrates Le Bois–the trees the city is named for. She has published poetry in Poet Lore, Avocet, Mused, WestWard Quarterly, Montucky, Blast Furnace, and Eternal Haunted Summer.

Photo by Adrian Kirby.

 

Poetry Potluck – The comment section is OPEN for you to share your thoughts and poems on the topic of today’s Inspiration Buffet. 

Really, we want to hear what you think.  We want to read your poem.  Every Sunday, everyone is welcome at the Poetry Breakfast table.  Don’t just stand outside sipping your coffee and looking in through the window.  Come inside and join the conversation.

Poetry Potluck and Inspiration Buffet – 5/22/16

Every Sunday we serve up a buffet of inspiration to spark some creation.

We also hope you’ll share your own dishes with us.

Poets are invited to post one of their own poems in the comment section.  Something sparked by or about this week’s topic.

Or if you just don’t have anything that matches, give us something a little different than this week’s topic and we’ll call it a dessert.

Inspiration Buffet:

This week’s Inspiration Buffet features photos by The Pixelman and a poem from Lorraine Cipriano.

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Photos by The Pixelman.

 

Aquarian Soul Sister
by Lorrain Cipriano

Marching to a different drum beat
a great change is now upon her
the moody and reckless visionary
this shift in energy inevitable
complacency coming to an end
sparkly point in time briefly
lifts maddening depression
her soul like an instrument
attuned to the world rhythm
this journey leads to paths
weaved into relationship webs
where wisdom of the past trumps
foolish decisions made in haste
larger collectives molding her
finally in the present moment
so calm entering a new realm
refusing to morph back into
the status quo and instead going
fearlessly to a sacred sanctuary
where fantastical ideas emerge
heavy veils of human suffering
become transparent as she begins
to challenge authorities with art
making the unknown known
in the middle of the universe

 

 Lorraine Cipriano is currently the editor of the Ohio section of The Poets Without Limits Magazine and the co-founder of a long-running literary series called “Women Unbound”. She has been published in the following publications by Writing Knights Press: “Unbound”, “Out on the Streets”, “The Squire: Grand Tournament III Anthology”, “Page-A-Day Poetry Anthology 2015”, “1,000 Paper Cranes”, “Writing Knights Press 2014 Anthology” and “The Squire: Grand Tournament IV Anthology”. She has also been published in both the “50 Haikus, Volume 1 Issue 8” anthology and “50 Haikus, Volume 1 Issue 9” anthology by Prolific Press.

Poetry Potluck:

Bring your dish to the table.  We invite you to use the comment section below to share a poem of your own, sparked by or related to today’s Inspiration Buffet.

Words Are Loneliness – Poetry Potluck and Inspiration Buffet

Inspiration Buffet:

This week our buffet features two poems by Curtis Whitecarroll and a few photos by Katrin Baustmann.

 

The Vulture by Curtis Whitecarroll

Holding my stitches together well enough
to write another poem
I have made a mirror on paper

Seeing that I am a collection of
all the former selves I have abandoned
to the leprosy of guilt

Living just fine after all the times
I was prepared to die ,
Lazarus wanting only to be wrapped
in bandages and left to rest in cave

I turn my pen to a vulture
to pick away pieces and feel lighter

Remembering the run over rattlesnake
threatening the impatient vulture
who was too hungry to wait for stillness

I watched them both, while hitch-hiking.
At 14, I knew the desert was home
to creatures that fight hardest for life,
but are the most deserving of death

 

For The Starving by Curtis Whitecarrol

“Words are loneliness.”-Henry Miller

soon poets will
be reduced to starving
wolverines

but we will keep scrounging
for a bit longer still
you wonder what winter
is for us,

the white flakes of time
the indifference

that will blanket us
given time

our words having strength
only among wastelands
of silence,

we had such places as
the eggs we hatched from

we are the condemned
by being content to live this life

searching for the first in a chain
of last meals

our words come from our mouths
but do very little to fill it

may god allow us to
cough up our own heart
perhaps make a meal of it

a fine distraction from
nuclear winters we find calmness in

I am certain there are others here
close by, being alone also

there is no location here
it is simply the mind and its overlapping
cartography

the great cliffs and valleys of melancholy
and the attempts at filling in distances
with happy routines,creatures of habit

let the routines grow thinner
and let us grow tolerant of

the losing game as we know it is come
let times indifferent snow fall give
us a good blanket,

as our legs and spirit finally become
too weak to chase the wild herds
of inspiration, so far spread out

let us be as respected as dinosaurs
as we fall down into dusty history books
barely read

 
Curtis Whitecarroll is a poet and reading-event producer living in Portland, Oregon He has been published in Multiple online and print magazines.

Katrin Baustmann is a German writer, self-publisher and always looking for great images at Pixabay for future book projects. But she also loves to capture the world with all of its beauty with the camera and gladly share them with you.

Poetry Potluck:

Bring your dish to the table.  We invite you to use the comment section below to share a poem of your own, sparked by or related to today’s Inspiration Buffet.

Spring – Poetry Potluck and Inspiration Buffet 3/20/16

Welcome to this week’s Poetry Potluck and Inspiration Buffet.

Every Sunday we serve up a buffet of inspiration to spark some creation.

We also hope you’ll share your own dishes with us.  Poets are invited to post one of their own poems in the comment section.  Something sparked by or about this week;s topic.  Or if you just don’t have anything that matches, give us something a little different than this week’s topic and we’ll call it a dessert.

Inspiration Buffet:

Of course, today’s topic is Spring.  In all its meanings.  All its endings, potentials, and beginnings.  Hope, flowers, seasons, ending of winters, seeds, late frost, last snow, first thunderstorms, wind, rain, green, growing…this is truly the season of anything, of all that was, is, and will be.

 

Poetry Potluck:

Bring your dish to the table.  We invite you to use the comment section below to share a poem of your own, sparked by or related to today’s Inspiration Buffet.

 

Poetry Potluck and Inspiration Brunch – 2/21/16

For this week’s Poetry Potluck and Inspiration Buffet, I invite you to come sit a the table with my family.  Maybe we can offer a spark, maybe we can stir some new poem from your heart.

We welcome you to bring your best dish to the table.  All poets are welcome to post one poem in the comments, be it one sparked by this week’s inspiration buffet, or not.  We welcome you to share.  We hope that together we can feed each other well.  (To understand more about our Poetry Potluck and Inspiration Brunch, just click here.)

… The Buffet…

Here the official video made available by the artist Peter Gabriel:


Here a blending, perhaps copyright violating, yet certain to give goosebumps and haunt you mix of Anne Sexton’s voice reading poetry with Peter Gabriel singing.

It was years after I heard and loved and felt deeply the words of “Mercy Street” that I learned of it’s connection to Anne Sexton.  I did not need that information to know it was a song that spoke to and of a poet.  As both a poet and the daughter of a mechanical engineer, the lines “All of the buildings and all of the cars were once just a dream in somebody’s head” seem to explain the world in the exact way I had always known it.

I was the daughter of an engineer.  Technically, the daughter of a “designer’s draftsman” since my father had no college education or degree.  Still, my father designed many things that never before existed, one of  them being the freight elevator in the World Trade Center.

Never before had any elevator risen so high or with the capacity to carry such weight.  He found a way of making it work not by enhancing new technology, but instead by expanding the use of older mechanisms.  He went backwards to move things forwards.  He taught me that imagination mixed with information is the formula for creation.

Another line that crawled into my spine, “words support like bone.”   I am all too familiar with the concepts of support beams and structural integrity, but unlike my father, the mathematics of mechanical design eluded me.  Instead, I learned to build, to invent with words.  All my life attempting to assemble  words as solid as steel support beams.  I have yet to design my great freight elevator.

My father worked with wood and metal and concrete.  I work with ink and paper and metaphors.

It is not a far stretch between engineer and poet.  We do the same work.

My father is almost 80.  He worked 20 years for Otis Elevator before the layoff came and then he found employment here and there and then over there – for nearly 45 years he worked as a mechanical engineer.  Nothing he designed carries his name.  No one knows it was his mind, his imagination that engineered the freight elevator of the fallen Twin Towers and countless other things.  His creations are all credited to the companies he worked for.

The pen in your hand, the hubcap on your car, your front door –  Everyday we live our lives using things imagined by people whose names we will never know.

As poets, we may not be paid well or at all, but at least our creations carry our name.

Welcome to the table.  Enjoy the feast.
-Ann Kestner

 

 

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