All posts tagged with poetry

September 24, 2020

“Love on the Road” — The Poetry of Irving Glassman

Love On The Road We hug and kiss in the fast food parking area From their SUV my family waves farewell to me We are on the same road until they slow to approach their exit For an instant we are side by side Everyone turns in their seats and throws me an extra kiss They look like any other family Except they’re my family # # # Crossing Over My daughter runs, hops, and skips To the curb’s edge For her ritual rite of passage I assure her it’s safe to cross She runs, hops and skips To the opposite curb “I’m a grown up now,” she yells I yelled back, “Don’t grow up yet. You have time.” …

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September 20, 2020

“Frank Olson” — The Poetry of Charles Rammelkamp

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

Frank Olson “Webber,” my editor barked when I walked into the office that day just after Thanksgiving, 1953. “I want you to look into this story about the CIA guy who jumped out of the tenth floor window at the Statler, on Seventh Avenue. Why did he do it? Could he have been he pushed?” My beat? CIA, MK-ULTRA, “mind-control” drugs. Brainwashing. I knew about Frank Olson already; worked at Camp Dietrich in Maryland, Special Ops, an aerosol expert, his specialty “airborne distribution of biological germs.” Worked on Operation Sea Spray a couple year earlier, where they released a dust that floated like anthrax, near San Francisco. At Dietrich, he directed experiments that involved gassing and poisoning lab animals. “I’ll look right into it, sir,” already booking a flight and hotel in my mind, thinking,…

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September 13, 2020

“Leap of Faith” — An Ekphrasis Poem by Mark Blickley

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

Image by Mark Blickley Leap of Faith I’m a dead frog and I don’t say this with any pity or understanding or shame, it’s just an observation that people seem to like us, like us a bit too much because they like to push hooks through our jaws and cast us out to sea, as well as amputate us for fine dining and draw us as a cartoon shuffling cigar smoking smart ass, and they like to blame us when they choke on the phlegm in their throats, and they swear that some of us give them hideous skin infections while the evil ones enjoy tossing us into their steamy potions as the younger ones imitate us with a game of leaps and crashes, perhaps because we abandon our young and we larger ones like to…

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August 17, 2020

“The Leopard’s Good Idea,” Poetry by Mark A. Murphy

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

The Leopard’s Good Idea or Costume Change The pen is mightier than the sword. Behold The arch-enchanters wand! – itself a nothing! – Edward Bulwer-Lytton 1 One day the crafty leopard hit upon the neat idea to turn out his old wardrobe in favour of a whole new look. Out went last season’s winter warmers as if a change of pelt might bring about a change in personality. Nonetheless, the inclination to swindle outweighs any kindness. So, the cheating and subterfuge runs its course, until the cheat and the cheated part company in the face of wild promises and denials. 2 Now we journey to the end of time to ascertain whether the pen really is mightier than the sword, only to find what we always suspected. …

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August 9, 2020

“Meteor Shower,” Poetry by Mark Hammerschick

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

Meteor Shower Canvas black the eternal oil spill galactic dark matter speckled waves of crystal diamond sky ruby, emerald, sapphire lightspeed silent night bright terminal velocity eyes focus straining in the dark time as seconds, minutes, eons stretch galaxies into small hands that even rain cannot feel for in feeling we begin to fall headlong into night riding the meteors of our past knowing the showers of our future will smother those small hands someday not even the rain has such small hands Smokestacks of oak, hickory and birch lurch in the balance of sleet and snow on a confused Sunday in early May as my woods fill up with snow. It’s a snowy evening tucked away on this Highland Park cul de sac hugging Lake Michigan’s shore as the gales of this Spring day recall the final…

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July 21, 2020

Kira Rice-Christianson — Six Poems

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

Little White Lies I started carrying around these little white lies; they live here on my face. Like when I ask you a question and your answer seems ingenuine but I smile at you softly, anyway. Or when I fix you a plate and you give me your thanks, and I kiss the side of your head. While inside I scold the woman who does as she’s told, though I lay with her each night in bed. Or when you don’t come home for three nights in a row and I lay awake cracking my knuckles and toes. I picture her holding your body, unclothed. The thought leaves me paranoid, and I look through your phone. I shouldn’t have done that, now I can’t sleep. My body is filled with anxiety and heat. I…

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July 14, 2020

“Another Day of Quarantine,” Poems by Michael P. Aleman

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

Another Day of Quarantine The morning sun bathes our bedroom with soft light on a morning more than serene, a real gift on another day of quarantine. Cool March air via a slightly opened window drifts in. I welcome the freshness of the air and the sunlight. They bring the end of night, and assurance that darkness won’t prevail. The true blessing, of course, is being quarantined with you, having you beside me, the halo of your silver hair soft upon your pillow. The morning air billows the window curtain, offering a badly needed certainty that normalcy remains, will sustain us to the end. I abhor the thought of living through this quarantine alone, for you are bride, lover, companion and friend, and if the end is at hand, we’ll weather it together. I will, however,…

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June 22, 2020

“Up There” — Three Poems by Chad W. Lutz

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

Up There this one goes out to anyone that’s ever made me feel I wasn’t enough or felt they were too good & drifted away I remember we fucked in the auditorium your idea & how carnal & playful you were wore a skirt and it hurt but I’ll admit I wasn’t ready here’s to the loves that didn’t last couldn’t last it’s all in the past now but I still daydream time to time Acan Glaske big border you know what that means government shutdowns partisan bickering sniveling banter back and forth we go the first settlers built walls around their encampments wanted to keep the threats out the Lakota the Apache the Comanche they lived on the open range in communion with nature …

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June 18, 2020

Poetry and Prose to Honor Juneteenth

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

We at The Fictional Cafe are shocked, dismayed and angered by American policemen gunning down American men of color. We assume you feel similarly. Times of great stress, like the COVID-19 pandemic, bring out both the best and the worst in people. It is a time in which we must be patient, calm, understanding, even forgiving, even while we protest for change. We have no way of knowing what strife and pain, or growth and joy, await us in the endless days of this pandemic. All we have is today to be the very best humans we can possibly be, and that today, today, is Juneteenth when the world bows its head to remember the end of slavery in America, circa 1865. Of course, we know it wasn’t the end and that racism still runs…

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June 11, 2020

“Silenced,” The Poetry of Joan McNerney

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

Silenced What is never spoken of and pushed down becomes mold crawling over hearts. Strangling our voices, it scuttles through corridors, tunneling, warping each day. My body . . . this swollen thing carried by legs too thin and crippled to uphold it. Pushed down, tightly clamped in now full of pain, gasping for each breath. Smothered, silenced. street corners enveloped in exhaust fumes slate-like formations wait for light to change her carbon dress his face of ashes crushed within this granite body we eat grey food pulling empty air through narrow passageway to ink stain train smudged along blurred landscape of city inside myself searching a designer one clear line of perspective which distinguishes buildings from streets & points to where the synthetic sky…

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