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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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poety

Happy Hour Revisited – A Poem by William Doreski

Happy Hour Revisited

Like the promise of rain in drought
you perch on a barstool and smirk
in rainbows of special effects.

Baseball slogs away on TV.
The bartender keeps refilling you
with splashes of molten gold.

I want to be more decorous,
more ornamental in my habits,
less like a scrap of metal

rusting in the weeds. You’d laugh
if I told you that the starlight
and urban lamplight have entwined

in cuddles that infect us all.
You’d dismiss my terror of meat
and even the word “meat” when

uttered by the diner waitress
whose statuesque hairdo you admire.
I can’t drink serious liquor

anymore, can only sip tonic
and nibble snacks while men shaped
like wine vats pine for the kisses

you depleted forty years ago.
So we will terminate in sparks
and spangles, fizzing and spitting

in the gusty midnight streets.
You look forward to ascending,
while I expect to pool in slick

of ichor, leaving one messy clue.
The bartender’s crocodile outlook
almost busses your own. I tilt

from my perch and clop to the men’s room
where in a moment of disbursement
I can pretend I’m myself alone.

 

Written by William Doreski.

 

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.

 

 

The Poems are in The Soil – A Poem by Rebecca Villineau

The Poems are in The Soil

Beneath the rocks and broken brick
Below the fossils of cat bones
They are there
Fertilizing the ground
Adding phosphorus and calcium
Mulching through the earthworms

I am full of distractions
So I must dig
First loosening the crab grass
Twisting to the fine thick earth

To where there is the possibility of rare stones
Where my anscesters have lost their keys and rings
To where the dirt tells stories

Of children, like myself
Filling buckets from the garden hose
Adding grass, stone and soil
To the imaginary soup

We all know that God is in the details
Not the rock and brick
But the particles
And the invisible stuff

The way it feels when
The words are unearthed
First startling with their brown scaled skin
How they camouflage
at the base of a boxwood

Sometimes they are found
From just wandering the garden
Weaving between the stalks of sunflowers

Other times a person must
Get on their knees
Throw the spoon away
And dig with bare hands

 

 

About the Poet:  Rebecca Villineau is a poet and a social worker. Her poems have appeared in Vox Poetica, Spillwords Press and upcoming fall/winter issue of The Stray Branch. She lives and creates in New Bedford, Ma..

 

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.

Ritual – A Poem by Ann Christine Tabaka

Ritual

Breakfast – cooking eggs.
Sleepy eyed, an attack of the
mundane yawns. Burnt toast!

Where did the paper go? The cat
looks up and meows. Misplaced
glasses, jangling keys, same
crossword puzzles everyday.

Open the window to let the
world in. Outside, a butterfly
visits a coneflower. Inside,
the coffee maker burps.

Time to shake off the morning
and step into the day. Same
routine week after week after week.
Breakfast – cooking eggs …

 

 

About the Poet:  Ann Christine Tabaka lives in Delaware.  She is a published poet and artist. She loves gardening and cooking.  Chris lives with her husband and two cats.  Her most recent credits are The Paragon Journal, The Literary Hatchet, Metaworker, Raven Cage Ezine, RavensPerch, Anapest Journal, Sick Lit Magazine, Mused, Indiana Voice Journal, Halcyon Days Magazine, and The Society of Classical Poets.

 

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.

The Only Sound – A Poem by Daipayan Nair

The Only Sound

Cacophony is a reminder, we exist.
I search for the Sun ray behind it.
Wherever I find, I find it with a stretch
and stretches are never sad –
Smiles at you; at me
and that, the night one leaves with its absence
is also a stretch.
Such an optimism making us optimists
by default,
that a sound dies when something isn’t seen
or something isn’t meant to be seen
leaving a bigger sound,
proclaiming an arrival on a glass pane
and a departure
both of which cannot be heard.

 

 

About the Poet:
Born in the year 1988 in a town named Silchar in Assam, India, Daipayan Nair is a freelance writer, author, poet, surrealist and admin of a few active groups on social media platforms. His poems have been published in quite a few international as well as national magazines and anthologies. He has also been awarded a few prizes including the recent Reuel International Prize For Poetry 2016. His recently published book containing his collection named ‘The Frost’, a bouquet of lyrical poems.

WordPress Link: https://daipayannair.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.

I Can Ask For No Answer – A Poem by Megan Alford

I Can Ask For No Answer

Upon arrival and when leaving,
I can ask for no answer, if I relax,

who will pay for dish soap?
I am trying to wake up.

What is soft enough?
If I could be generous, I could be good.

A hotdog in a car park, and feeling happy.
Where to leave the best memories,

Toronto, Vancouver, Berlin,
home, or home, or what?

Lost in a Value Village,
trying on shoes in Montreal,

my fingers get caught,
sticking out of the treetops

 

 

 

About the Poet:
A graduate of Toronto’s George Brown College in Dance Performance, Megan Alford went on to complete her Bachelor of Arts in Concordia University’s Creative Writing Program. Her poems have been published in Matrix Magazine, Soliloquies Anthology, Encore Literary Magazine, Vallum, Room, and Cirque Literary Journal. In Montreal, she was shortlisted for the 2010 Irving Layton Award in both poetry and fiction. Originally from Prince Edward Island, she now resides 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.

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.

Janus by Benjamin Norris

Janus
 by Benjamin Norris

the morning brought sheets of grazing snows
fighting for feet amidst memory of spring
at times like these the promise of hope is a
seasonal shift, an answering mind
brought on winds which whip themselves east and
cough over tracks. I see bones under skin and

remember that I am a long way from there
where I learnt to breathe bottles and teachers
would leer through jars holding artifice made
to mimic the plants that push through the paving
and remind us why – so hard to leave
but the hard ground will split in the summer

 

 

Benjamin Norris is a poet and lecturer from Wales who currently resides in Budapest, where he lectures Indian Cultural Studies and Art History at a leading university. His poetry is mainly preoccupied with a sense of longing for distance from familiarity, whilst being unable to escape one’s roots and the trappings which come with culture.

His poetry has been published in collections, newspapers and magazines varying from Exberliner, Artwurst, Magpie Magazine, all three printed journals of the IIAL, The Guardian, Scopophilia, The Love of Looking, Bristol Stories, Tales from the Big Smoke and several more, and he is seeking new venues in which to show his latest work which differs greatly from previous pieces.

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