Poetry

Finally Beyond

Finally Beyond the Pine-Treed Back Roads of my Morning Commute, I Think of You Early this September Morning By Tom Laughlin   The bright sun kisses The corn fields that I pass Grown tall and stretched Near to bursting With plump kernels of sweetness within Golden gems that sparkle and spill out over the tops …

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Woman-Loving

Woman-Loving By Racheal Rodman   Too much anxious time is spent thinking about the space that you and I occupy   in a political sense. Rather than ruminate on rhetoric, I refuse huddling under a queer umbrella   and linger instead in rain of Sappho, woman-loving, self-conscious, even gleeful,   not guilty or effaced.

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Thick Thighs

 Thick Thighs By Charlotte Koch   My thighs rub together when I walk. They sing a spiteful symphony, Brisk whispers as I shuffle down the hall— Pooling at the cross roads of my body, Causing flooding for miles around.   Three inches below the apex of my thighs, The point where layers of fat touch …

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We Are You, But Not Your Love

We Are You, But Not Your Love By Amanda Bordenca   You do not control me. Listen when I speak. I hear you but don’t listen. Is it me that you seek? We are you. As confused as you may be. You are not you Without a little of me. Your thoughts we own, Your …

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A Letter to the Unforgiven

A Letter to the Unforgiven By Teri-ann Fico   I remember the first time you parallel parked. You fit so perfectly, so evenly, and even when I stood on the other side of the street, I could still see how much you belonged in that spot, that time, that space. For now you could finally …

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Dance Fever

Dance Fever By Teneisha Mytil   Let the beat move you Let the heat drive you Hearts-a-thumpin Feets-a-stompin As long as I’m with you My soul’s aflame You know I’m not to blame Flashing lights and swinging hips C’mon baby let’s get jiggy with it Reach an all new high We can’t stop Won’t stop …

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Nouveau Riche

Nouveau Riche By Teneisha Mytil   Golden rings and flash banging dresses We are the next generation The princes and princesses   Draped in green paper like fine silk Our eyes are us The healthy amongst the ill   And we sin our way through time Doing the cokes, opes, and dopes Make the world …

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-its, -icks, and -ips

-its, -icks, and -ips By Teneisha Mytil   Please don’t mind my fits My annoying and uninspired little tricks The way the pen in my hands does a little flip Around my fingers every time there’s a little tick tick tick -ing in my brain Which feeds me my daily dose of tips To get …

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Thoughts of a Useless Mind

Thoughts of a Useless Mind A Collection of Irish Shanties By Alexandria Drouin   Cemetery Ballet   Dragging the stick along the fence Approaching the graveyard where they buried the remains A stone: “Here lies her hopes and dreams” The roses will rise, but the ground will freeze   A beautiful carousel covered in snow …

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Unfelt Freedom

Unfelt Freedom By Drew A. Breton   When I walk down the street All I see is my feet Wanna make footsteps Laid down in concrete   Want to be seen for the things I’ve done Just want to be loved by everyone But people don’t see the shooter Only remembering the gun   After …

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Trichotillomania

Trichotillomania By Charlotte Koch   I think the beginning of it all was the pulling. The careful process of latching on, prying that infinitesimal piece of yourself from your own body, to gain control of your thoughts, to go blank for a while.   I can remember seeing myself for the first time, the horror …

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The Way

The Way By Keegan Eller   It’s the way he looks at you with a glint of mischief in his eye as if he knows your reaction before you know what he’s planning. It’s the way he laughs and grins when he does something you would otherwise deem cheesy but it makes a smile burst …

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Offering What Was Left Behind

Offering What Was Left Behind By A.T. Halaby   Often I have taken words by the mouth like I would any lover and faithful to their traces      they are not just pieces of rock kicked on        sidewalks proportioned from boulders little pieces of mountains        shaped by the pressure it took              to separate them.   I …

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In Between

In Between By Dana Shahar   When the song starts to play, It’s the trembling notes that grip you like tiny, pink fingers. When we start to dance, it’s wool socks on carpet and mouths full of laughter. I feel exposed, like an orange, And I reach for the dozens of pieces that made up …

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How I Learned To Smell The Rain

How I Learned To Smell The Rain A Poem for Devi Lockwood By A.T. Halaby   I let the thunder sit on my chest as I slept   as each drop of rain was paused, waiting to   make its move toward the earth.   Just then I witnessed sets of arms reaching out as …

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From Inside My Body

From Inside My Body By A.T. Halaby   Something like. The night Was still happening and. The morning wasn’t ready. Like Language’s suggestion (it’s struggling, I Mean, really, it’s in trouble) Is in its deal with my mind. To tell me what I want to hear. Thoughts don’t tire out, they Don’t have bodies. What …

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Equinox

Equinox By Ashley Puddester   Summer nights draw to a close and our glory days are done. Leaves already changing, and soon winter has begun. Warm, vibrant sun broke through the fog for one last day, Until the absence of you sapped the magic away. Hypothermic souls shiver: frostbitten, sickly blue, The same shade of …

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Down Your Drain

Down Your Drain By Connor Seavey   Wash the demons down your drain Never to be seen again Where do they go When you’re done with them? What are we without them? The night is long Long enough for yearning Crawling slowly Toward something else Close the door Lock the bolt Wash the demons away …

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Breathe

Breathe By Josh Nieman   Inhale. Gasping at the start. Relish in the satisfaction. Gentle touch of my fingers caress your skin. Clutching my hand against your wrist to pin you down. Dripping wet with beads of sweat that spread from every pore. Your senses rush and sway for the entire length of this roller …

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Alone

Alone By Keegan Eller   The moon shines, The sun blinds. The wind blows, Cold as snow. A smile fake, Work of art. The dawn breaks, Like my heart. To have all, But have none. To stand tall, Until you’re done. While you slept, Alone I wept. All the peace, Yet none for me. And …

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It’s Not Okay

By Deenah Jacques   She screams, her throat turns ripe and red her mother’s body lowered into ground. A woman rushes to her, “It’s okay, It’s okay” grasping shoulders, her words flocking in the air, like dazed starlings.   I look over to this scene from a distance dirt shuffling around feet, flowers placed on …

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Give Me Back Mine

  By Chelsea Sanchez Baby I want to smash bottles Against the wall Plates splintered On the hardwood floor   But I can’t bring myself To care   You are the only one Who can pull my strings The only one allowed To wind me up So I can move and dance And cry and …

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Photograph

By Sharitza Pardo   I see her standing in her bright pink leotard fake microphone in her hands, ready to sing her heart out to a song with words she can barely pronounce at that age, eyes focused and brows furrowed, her little sister in a bright blue tutu, curls falling around her shoulders, shaping …

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You know what is the best feeling ever?

By Jacqueline Krozy Snuggling your loving daughter on the carpet, staring up at her nightlight, giving her soft cheeks warm kisses to twinkle little star— right before she goes to bed… then returning to her crib before you slumber. When you enter her room, See her cuddling her books You pick her up, Cradle her …

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All things happen when they are meant to be … in time

By Jackie Krozy   They said, he said, she said, I mechanically wag my head, But really, I do not accept these words. Lava grumbles and lurches, Opening crags in my stomach, As mindfully, I make that hesitant smile, hear their hypocritical advice from greedy hearts That have that sacred thing That my whole life …

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“Not Today”

By Krissy Bradley   Do you love me still? Could you fix the drafty door? He replies, not today dear, but soon I will   I’d rather play black jack down the hill I’ll wait to do that chore Do you love me still?   I rake the leaves alone in the autumn chill I know …

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Sunday Dinner

By Krissy Bradley   Grandfather’s Guinness grows on our maple tree Like shiny coins or crisp bills His glass half full or mostly half empty As he sits in a leaning house with broken window sills   While Mother’s meatballs simmer in sauce Handmade with love and garlic so sweet The magic she makes and the …

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Hands

By Gail Mooney   I. Against the night harbor sea roses open, loose petalled and trembling with scent. My mother cups a flower to my nose saying They smell most beautiful as they die.   She points to a peeled birch her hands freckled like the camouflage of leaf and shade, her palm smoothed across …

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Graffiti

By Amanda Hayes   I wish a part of me could forget the art of you, wash away the memories you canvassed on my lips and the way you spray painted my thighs, simply wipe away the paint you stained down through my hips.   Three years elapse and I painfully grasp the notion of you …

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Father

By Amanda Hayes   You promised me sea glass but gifted me crushed shells. You left me choking under the pressure of the ocean. Stranded and stuck, I endure the anchor of disappointment.   I dreamt that you mattered to me. I called you daddy when the waves got too rough and wrapped around my …

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Sacred Teas

By Carolyn Mayer   In the wax and wane of our conversations we would sometimes misunderstand each other’s words  or misunderstand each other’s thoughts     or she did not hear the words. On Wednesdays, we shared our noon teas and secret conversations just my mother and I        soaking in the numinous intimacy of a new day. …

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Ash Wednesday

By Carolyn Mayer   the finger of black dust–   forgives the pleasure of sex and chocolate   forgives the day’s wine and leisure   forgives collections of cashmere sweaters   and the garden of clay angels with broken wings nest lost fledglings   Ash Wednesday   penitent forehead of dust.

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November 29th

By Carolyn Mayer   Through the smokey haze of the pine lit candles, and the blaring closed caption TV, I held my ear close to Nana’s reaching words.  Her tales of chipped and worn ornaments became myth angels, stars and bells.  With the blaze of her lit cigarette, her slow and vast utterances trailed into …

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Pharmaceutical Blues

By Mary-Kate Haley   I can feed you lines so beautiful, much like your eyes in May. With your lines and lies, this is doable.   Those blue eyes caught my attention like abusing pharmaceuticals. Filled with wonder, relapse, questions; I knew you would help me decay. You helped to write a line of my …

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The Wind

By Mary-Kate Haley   The frigid morning wind blew leaves past at 7 a.m.   Phone off the hook, dangling from the cord like the swaying strings of my heart. “He’s gone,” the voice had said.   Like seasons come and leave so suddenly. The wind blew everything past. but everything seemed motionless– still, my …

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Over

By Jaime Lyn Twombly   They stare at each other across the table and that’s all it takes to for her to be wrapped around his little finger. Shaggy brown hair and a laugh that’s contagious; she lost before she’s even conscious of it. It isn’t supposed to be anything more than dinner. Her walls …

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Secrets

By Jaime Twombly   Grown from a sapling into an Awkward young thing Nibbling on fingertips, clumsy And tripping over shoelaces tied Not so carefully   I tried to write you a poem Rolled the words over my tongue, Put them inside packages tied With little blue bows but They never made it onto paper …

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Sunday

By Jaime Lyn Twombly   It is Sunday and there is nothing but the newspaper and last night’s clothing scattered on the floor A trail to the bedroom from the front door where little feet and big feet are tangled, hanging off the edge of the bed Sweat on your brow and my dirty fingernails …

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Witnessed

By Jaime Lyn Twombly   She was gripping the railing as if she would fall and crash to her death if she let go. Her knuckles turning white, blood rushing from her face leaving a pale and empty mask behind. He was staring at her, the guilt written on his face like scarlet letters, his …

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No Preexisting Medical Conditions

  By Chelsea Sanchez   I die several times a month My heart pounds, chest aches, palms sweat My soul floating out of my skin Is as familiar to me as falling asleep Sharp pains shooting through my back Are shrugged off with commonplace ease Just another Tuesday   Sometimes my lungs are paralyzed No …

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Afterdeath

By Joseph Nardoni   The coffin slid back into the red placental blaze, the door swung shut, like life’s own womb prolapsed inward— she was gone to ash and atmosphere.   He returned to empty house rustles, open-curtained shadows falling from the lips of an end table graced with a dusty coaster and a beer …

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