Literary as hell.

Tag: poem (Page 3 of 7)

Poetry by Rich Ives

Yesterday

 

The end of a century flipping like a calendar number,

and here I am kissing a short squat building where

everyone says hello, and no one recognizes me.

 

Upstairs there are families I once lived in, but

pawnshops have moved in like stray cats. In the garden,

 

rhizome dreams borrow the curiosity from a stare,

sending up tomorrow as a stalk and teaching it to listen.


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The Jeweler, a poem by Gonzalinho da Costa

The Jeweler

by Gonzalinho da Costa

 

Afternoon is a jeweler

Setting hours in gold,

As silver glinting waves

Slap the garnet shore.

 


Gonzalinho da Costa—a pen name—teaches at the Ateneo Graduate School of Business, Makati City, Philippines. He is a management research and communication consultant. A lover of world literature, he has completed three humanities degrees and writes poetry as a hobby.

“What have I eaten?” by Annie Turner

What have I eaten?

(Inspired by Sylvia Plath)

 

 

In response to my mother’s nagging question,
“What have you eaten today, Annie?”

 

What have I eaten?
Lies and smirks.
My diet calls for uncertainty,
I’ve got a hunger for what hurts.

  Breadcrumbs of grumbles,
And bits of anxieties unsung,
Tastes that sit familiar on my tongue.

           (I think I am made of dust and thirsty for your rain.)

 

All I have eaten for 13 months
Are leftover scraps of stale hope
And heaping portions of quiet patience.
My big eyes for love left unfulfilled,
My stomach full of deprivation.

 

 

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Annie is a writer/poet named after her mother’s favorite book, Anne of Green Gables (so it’s spelled Anne-with-an-E!). She’s obsessed with poetry, stargazing, antiques, & animals, and she’s always on the lookout for unusual and/or beautiful words to record in her notebook, which she never leaves the house without. For more of Annie’s poetry and writing, follow her on Twitter (@Beannie129) or email her at aturn139@gmail.com.

“The San Franciscan Group Home,” a poem by M. O. Mc

At least once a week

3 kids are thrown into the frying pan

carelessly yolked together

olive oil siphoned off

black & salt left out on purpose

the shells still have transparent film

stuck to the side of the garbage disposal    

homework crumbled like cake is there too

There is surplus salmon pink late notices

broken shards of glass

swept from the kitchen aluminum floor

overflowing for space Continue reading

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