Subtexting – A Poem by Marie C Lecrivain

Poetry Breakfast


I don’t know if you aware of this,
but I cry after our conversations,
which are few and far between.

Your voice grows softer with each
discourse, though your laugh is still
full of joy, and your wit hasn’t lost

its razor edge. I ask how you are,
and defensiveness emerges in your
voice, that question of how much

you’ll reveal because you know why
I call, and I need to convince
myself all parts of you are still

present and accounted for. I know
you’re reconciled with loneliness,
as you hope – one day- I’ll be, but this

is where our paths diverge, as they did
the moment I entered the world,
much to your sorrow and displeasure.

In the meantime, love and filial bonds
are the rule of the hour. What’s left unsaid
is the greatest gift to our shared memory.



About the Poet:

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Fighting Political Correctness — Civilly

Yonason Goldson

DissentConservatives across America are cheering University of Chicago dean John Ellison for his recent letter informing incoming students that they may have to suffer the indignity of confronting people they don’t agree with and ideas that make them uncomfortable.

Needless to say, the position was immediately denounced by zealots who sincerely believe that the only way to preserve intellectual freedom is by muzzling any and every utterance that they find threatening to their own feelings and worldview.

The sad reality is that there are racists and sexists in the world, just as some people are intellectually dishonest and plain rude.  (Some of them are running for president of the United States.)

But people such as these will not go away or change their stripes because others attempt to silence them.  The only effect of censorship is to drive people into more insulated camps and encourage their withdrawal into more extreme factions…

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Sanskrit and cosmic energy.

இந்திரா பார்த்தசாரதி

Today there was an interesting news item in TOI that if one were to study and speak the Sanskrit language, the possibility of her/his becoming a genius is not remote. Reason: it is a scientific language in the sense that ‘when it is written and spoken it helps maintain the balance between the left and right hand side of our brain hemisphere’. One can experience, it is said, the cosmic energy ,while conversing in this language.It is also argued that there are therapeutic advantages in learning this languages for those who suffer from cleft palate. No surgery is needed to  set it right.Just speak Sanskrit!

I do not understand why the study of Sanskrit needs to be sold in this manner. For all I know, Sanskrit, as we know now was never a spoken language  of the common man,  in any part of the country, now known as Bharat.  One…

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Poem by John Smallshaw

Mapping it out.

No barons down in Earls court and no Surrey in the quays
the underground’s a mess if names are things that please
in Raynors lane there’s rain again
in Catford there are mice
in Epping it is epic and I think that’s awful nice,
In Battersea there is no sea
in Clapham they don’t clap
at shooters hill they don’t shoot guns
and Network East’s a trap.

In Stepney there are several steps
in deptford they sink under debts
nothing gets me on my way than to pass through Green lanes, Harringay, now I don’t know many gays down there but I’m friends with some
up in Sloane square
no Knights in Knightsbridge anymore
no Kings at Kingly court
Bradford’s not in Bingley either
neither here nor there nor in Trafalgar Square will you see any ships

bur the underground’s a fabulous place for going out on trips.

Louisiana and the Waters of Life and Death

Yonason Goldson

As residents across Louisiana struggle against catastrophic flooding, we should all take a few moments to contemplate how quickly nature can become our greatest adversary.  Water is both the source of all life and the greatest destructive force on earth.  I ponder the paradox in these reflections from after the Pacific Rim tsunami of 2005.

maxresdefaultVolcanoes. Hurricanes. Earthquakes. Fires. Tornadoes. Blizzards. Drought.

In a time when reports of terrorism have become all too common, it is sobering to consider the myriad ways nature possesses to inflict death and violence on a scale surpassing the most destructive instruments devised by man. Of all these, however, destruction by water, whether from the sea or from the sky, holds a unique terror in the scope and measure of its devastation.

Aside from the 150,000 lives already reported lost across nearly a dozen countries along the Indian Ocean, dehydration, disease and hunger threaten as…

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Four Thousand Secrets

Veronica Aldous


Four Thousand Secrets

Repository of dreams, lidded like a sewing box
Loveliness of nothingness, that no one wants to hear
Wind soughing in the branches, the way the window

Went jet black as if a mirror made of ink had poured
Itself on night and walked off crying, scraping heels

Friendly, this particular way of sitting
One to one, each turned to solitude but sharing
Air, expectant spaces, the way a feather floats
From a pillow,
Knowing the stand of trees just down the road

Some tea, oh lovely dear?

Moments where everything was exposed like skin
That flaked and shed itself, was damaged and renewed
Warm hands beneath a solemn moon, a kind of tryst

How somewhere there is an envelope
Addressed to me
Still sealed.

Veronica Aldous 2016 All Rights Reserved

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Veronica Aldous


The trees have been so whipped by gods
They show their tears in drifts of coins
Paying their obeisance to the soil
In flashing polka dots strewn like confetti
Upon the veils of still-green juices
I am affronted by the wind’s tearing
The way it skews the season
I want to hold my hands upon the moon’s curves
Peer into its surfaces, hold back falling
Shove my staff into the yellow shoals

Summer’s elusive kisses still pressing
Upon September’s cooling  brow.

Veronica Aldous 2016 All Rights reserved

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We Took You Down! by Paul Tristram

In Between Hangovers

You were warned
about wearing your heart
upon your sleeve.
You should have
erased your sensitivity
or hidden it.
Only Vultures, Vampires
and Sociopaths
are interested
in your nice side.
It’s the easiest way in
through those castle walls.
You asked for it,
with your caring,
welcoming smile,
open arms
and excruciating naivety.
People like you
make us fucking sick.
I cannot wait until you heal
so we can do it all over again.
We’ll eventually stamp,
batter and cut
that uniqueness
right fucking out of you.

SAMSUNG Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight; this too may pass, yet. Buy his books ‘Scribblings Of A Madman’ (Lit Fest Press) ‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at And a split poetry…

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Closing Time – A Poem by Sheila Wellehan

Poetry Breakfast

Closing Time

The last two weeks of August
feel like last call
people are frantic, in a bit of a panic
summer is rocketing by

so instead of ordering one more
Black Russian or Rusty Nail
they squeeze in one more beach trip
boat ride or barbecue.

On the sand men stand as tall as they can
thrusting out their pelvises like tusks
as they gawk at all the goddesses.
Women check their images in cellphones

reassuring themselves that their hair
and make-up are still flawless
then fuss with bathing suit tops
trying to look busty

without crossing the line into slutty.
Children vomit after too many amusement rides
their parents try not to swear
foggy days feel like tragedies.

Every day there’s a swimmer pulled from a riptide
a kayaker rescued at sea
mountains of backpacks and wallets stolen
as the lawless lock in their profits.

Traffic jams and…

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