Poetry by Jacquie Burckley, in the style of Kim Addonizio:
Dinner Plate
Tell me about your week
Tell me about your mornings and the nights
Tell me about your homemade meals and
the meals made by someone else
in the back under fluorescent light.
Let me make you a meal that will
loosen your belt.
Kidnapped
It’s been eight days, I think;
I keep losing track.
She succumbed fairly quickly.
I put in very little effort;
guns.
They work every time.
The water left dripping
The leaves outside crunch under all
Let’s have some fun. I thought
of a little experiment:
Cut ’em loose, will it be fight or flight?
They always scream.
Second Poem for You
I know you and I know your intellect;
I know how you tick, work, function, and though
I strive and try to perfect and deflect
the familiarity and comfort, like a glow,
I am left naked and aware. The idea sits
and grows. As the morning sun shines through,
we say the words without moving our lips.
I’ve checked out. I check in and before
the shower washes the night away
it seems you already settled the score.
I am left naked and aware
of the impact of my history,
stripped all to eyes and hair:
a bronze sea of pain and misery.
Poetry by Chrissy Schreiber, in the style of Christina Rossetti:
Warm Sun in Golden Hair
Warm sun in golden hair
Sand rough between the toes
The briny ocean air
And salt upon the nose
An aura about the sea
Arrests me
Upon a Bed of Peonies
Upon a bed of peonies,
Fragrance on the breeze,
Among the buzz of honey bees –
Berries we two eat.
Juices running down our chins,
Petals nuzzle me –
Where else would we two lovers go,
But to peonies?
Creaking, Wooden Benches Swinging
Creaking, wooden benches swinging,
Hanging like moss upon the trees,
Flowers, grass, and mushrooms springing
From earth with gentle ease,
And there a soft voice whispering,
And there the moonlight flickering,
And there the whippoorwill simpering,
As I sit here listening.
(Read) Between the Vines 