Poet's Corner

Welcome back to the Poet's Corner. Please submit your original poetry to ldroosevelt@gmail.com.

I will cling in his memory for a while As a terrible being, a hungry pig All my emotions sunk at the bottom of a dank well Of taciturn suspicion He will say to himself ‘I do not...

You’re doing a crossword. I’m working on a puzzle. Do you love me enough? What’s the missing word? Do I love you enough? Where’s the missing piece? Yesterday I was cross with you. You weren’t paying enough attention. You were cross with...

To: my second hand man By Annabelle Hackney   I know that I am sun sweet, but it’s January & sometimes (diagonal from often) I consider what it’s like to not know the difference between a body and a...

By Susan Thompson   It’s quiet out here in February The light on the water is glassy Smooth as a mirror Listen intently You can hear the hum of a faraway boat But there is no sign of it Just a line...

Fan Ogilvie has published two books of poems, “You” and “Easinesses Found,” several chapbooks, including “The Other Side of the Hill” and “In this Place,” and a memoir, “Knot a Life.” She is planning...

Down old Oyster Pond Road where the bayliner waits we drive Blue Bronco past Athearn's farm and past the broken fence off graded trail and onto mushy march our tires spinning in green, mossy mud we arrive at The Breach where...

By Betty Robbie   ‘See that big puff coming?’ Your words in my voice, Delivered to my 5 year old charges, On your water, 80 years later.   ‘You’re pinching!’ ‘Pull it in, ease out until it luffs,’ ‘Hike out, let everything go before...

It’s snowed every day since you left, the sky sloughing flakes as you’ve shed me, thick and fast. I’ll walk outside, leave a trail of prints as proof of my feet; back in the kitchen’s yellow warmth, as snow...

breath By Clark Myers think of your ribs as bricks stepped toward the sky think of your breath as smoke and your love toward your loved as late night embers think of your heart as bellows and kindling our place here is to burn...

Christmas in Sarasota By Don McLagan It’s not Currier & Ives here. The set sun silhouettes palms and fishermen with their evening nets. The reflection of Christmas wrinkles warm on the bay.   No doubt local kids find nothing amiss and nestle...

Despite the appearances we have no cause for despair no need to count misfortunes no point in bemoaning this year no value in fearing what's to come   Do we really believe that with all we possess within and all we've gained...

The fountains are frozen Dec. 1, 2018 By Amarylis Douglas,   The fountains are frozen. The Buddha has tears. December first, National AIDS Day: so many years back, back in the throes of the epidemic, every artist, every painter, every designer, every...

Welcome back to the Poets' Corner. This month's theme was "gratitude." The theme for December will be "2019." Please submit poems that look back on this year (with humor, pathos, anger — whatever you...

By Linda Bergeron Freedman Under the hood there sits a thinker Only to fix the wires and tinker Which car will I do today he said With a smile he starts to plan in his head Is it blue,...

In an instant I faded away ... I looked to my right And then I took off, like an Eagle I flew — And I couldn't stop It wouldn't let me go But I wasn't finished yet ... — By Joseph F....

The willowy girl with Jean Harlow hair 
And dimples that wink in Irish soap skin
 Starts to vogue in the kitchen. She’ll be on the tabletop soon enough 
Tonight’s craic has begun. The student old marrieds defend their Lucky...

her words lost like snow falling gently on a spring lawn her breath drawn in silence exhaling white mist she is sound vibrating mantras ring every cell she is earth gathering the fallen limbs for trails no rumbling along subway tracks no longer a poet singing, rather than a calling at...

There’s a magic that resides In the waters between land and isles There’s a stirring in the air Every time the whistles blare What form of magic is churned in the wakes? For it transports you from place to...

By Rick Glassberg They are a singular, superior creation. From the time I knew this, I’ve treasured and loved women. I wouldn’t have succeeded or survived in life without a woman as my rock. Their god given souls are all...