I’m not jealous now
Welcome back to the Poet's Corner. Please submit your original poetry to ldroosevelt@gmail.com.
I’m not jealous now
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...
Poet’s Corner
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...
Poet’s Corner: Wake up call
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...
Blue Bronco
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...
Poet’s Corner
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...
Poet’s Corner
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...
Poet’s Corner
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...
Poet’s Corner
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...
Poet’s Corner: Steve’s Cars
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,...
The Poet
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...
Ferry Land
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...