Tag Archives: Lyric poetry

Napoleonic Ambitions

By Kyle Brandt-Lubart

Like a dagger drawn before

You can see the whites of their eyes

A malcontent mist gathers forces

Particulates aligned by entropy 

Descend on the rotunda

A fully formed reflection 

Of man’s most infectious needs

Doesn’t stop to hear the sermon

Before the bayonet charge

They are guests in a foreign land who

Crush seeds underfoot

In the name of carnivorous showmanship

Left gnawing on bones

Denied the choicest bits

How to fiend for nourishment

Didn’t need to be taught

To fallow field tenders

Who grew tired of wait your turn

They chant glory be as

Disposable heroics earn 

Cheap paper ribbons

To celebrate the empty shell of victory

Claimed on scorched Earth

Without treatment or salve

The burned follow the blind

Who follow the hungry

As they march into howling winter

Insatiable for power’s contorted shadow


Kyle Brandt-Lubart (she/her)  is a poet, visual artist, and Licensed Clinical Social Worker who resides in St. Louis, Missouri, USA. Brandt-Lubart works full-time, providing free therapy services to uninsured and underinsured individuals living with mental illness. She was a St. Louis Regional Arts Commission Community Arts Training Institute Fellow from 2017-2018. Her writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Vita Brevis, Agapanthus Collective, and MoonInk Tanka Poetry Anthology, and she was selected as a Dear Butte writer-in-residence for Fall 2021. She is co-author/illustrator of the chapbook, It Made A Sound, which is due to be released in Fall 2021.

Undressed

By John Maurer

One must be comfortable in their skin

Before they peel it with scalpel

Before they lay it in front of the fire

Before they can stop calling it a mask

But this is blush and mascara on a ghost

And I am a raft on a river you can’t step in twice

Since those who know everything have told me 

There is nothing to know

That everything cancels each other out

That knowledge is a drunken game of tennis

Intelligence is the white woven net

This is what we stumble over

Yes, because we are drunk

Also, because we never stop playing

And a game that never ends

Is a game that can never be won


John Maurer is a 26-year-old writer from Pittsburgh that writes fiction, poetry, and everything in-between, but his work always strives to portray that what is true is beautiful. He has been previously published in Claudius Speaks, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, Thought Catalog, and more than fifty others. @JohnPMaurer (johnpmaurer.com)

Summer in Spring

By Yuu Ikeda

Summer already

dwells in spring

I feel it

by my skin

In calmness of spring,

in warmth of spring,

howls of summer

resound weakly

The howls like blazes

fill my skin

with heat

gradually,

and then,

I’m swallowed

by summer

although I’m in spring


Yuu Ikeda is a Japan-based poet. She writes poetry on her website. Her published poems are “The Shadow of A Cross” in 3 Moon Magazine, “On the Bed” in Nymphs, “Love? or Death?” in Sad Girl Review, “Poetry Drops Like Raindrops Do” in JMWW, and more.

Good for You

By Sarah Wood

When you tell me,

As the highest form of compliment, 

“You’re good for me.”

I think of all the ways I would describe you.

Never do I imagine

Using words that would suggest back 

A relationship to myself.

I made a list of things that are “Good for Me”: 

Cardio

Flossing 

Probiotics

Sunscreen

I couldn’t put your name, 

Beneath these

Magicless, Consumable,

Things.

Tell me, could you even see me without seeing yourself?

Or did we mistake self-sacrifice for intimacy?

To love you without leaving myself, 

I have to lose.

To love me without losing myself,

I have to leave.

I don’t want to be good for you. 

I want to be whole.


Sarah Wood is a writer, TEDx speaker and mindfulness facilitator from Michigan, currently living in New York City. She is the founder of Joy Soldier™, a community and toolkit to help people lead more joyful lives. She loves finding new books, hummus, and good questions. Sarah has previously been published in the Huffington Post and Thrive Global.

March

By Felicia Zuniga

Slides in and out
as he pleases
warm some days
cold the next
an inconsiderate liar

Now he breezes in like a false spring

and blows hot secrets into my ears

promises destination vacations, sand and blue skies

so I pack away my wools

until he cancels last minute again

He acts distant on the phone

I can hear the wind in his voice

feel the ice in his touch

unexpected fury and fights

When I see him again

he’s green with delirium

drunk with indecision

by the time he’s gone for good

it’s already April Fool’s and I realize

the joke is on me


Felicia Zuniga is a writer and communications specialist who lives in Calgary, Alberta with her husband and two young sons. She has been writing poetry for over a decade and has been published in a variety of journals including Contemporary Verse 2 – The Canadian Journal of Poetry and Critical Writing, The Antigonish Review, Montreal Writes, Existere – Journal of Arts & Literature and FreeFall Magazine. She has a Master of Journalism degree from Carleton University and a Bachelor of Arts degree in English Honours with a Creative Writing Concentration from the University of Calgary. Learn more at www.feliciazuniga.com.

My North Star is Rhinestone

By Kate Miano

When he runs his hands over me, one part

juts out metal:

A freshly tilled valley,

by which his touches can trail

to other pieces of my topography.

Punctuating my torso for five years

it’s become as much appendage

as an arm.

A bejeweled wound, I carved myself

to map beauty.

Like a secret treasure I know it’s there

before anyone sees it.

My body’s North Star.


Kate Miano (She/Her) is a waitress/editor/writer/occasional nanny. She has an English degree from Suffolk University and has been previously published in magazines such as Venture, Overheard Lit, and Dynamis Journal. She lives in New York City and enjoys yoga, rooftops, and art museums. Kate can be found on Instagram and Twitter: @katemiayes.

Jill Has Root Rot

By Kyle Brandt-Lubart

A helicopter parent

Cared too much to ask

What do you need

Knuckle deep kept hidden

Puddles pooled at the bottom

Can you cry into your stomach?

Jill learned how because 

She needed to store it 

Somewhere untouched by pointed fingers

Good egg turned bad seed

Prying neighbors brayed

Why did she go so far away?

Gossiping winds know

She found somewhere to sow

Her mistakes into sweet moans

To let them ripen into her own

Bump and grind with them 

Into marigold mornings

On the phone amidst static

She wonders how gratitude and disdain

Become intimate with one another 

And if one day she will

Want to plant another seed

Near the cold concrete landing pad


Kyle Brandt-Lubart (she/her)  is a poet, visual artist, and Licensed Clinical Social Worker who resides in St. Louis, Missouri, USA. Brandt-Lubart works full-time, providing free therapy services to uninsured and underinsured individuals living with mental illness. She was a St. Louis Regional Arts Commission Community Arts Training Institute Fellow from 2017-2018. Her writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Vita Brevis, Agapanthus Collective, and MoonInk Tanka Poetry Anthology, and she was selected as a Dear Butte writer-in-residence for Fall 2021. She is co-author/illustrator of the chapbook, It Made A Sound, which is due to be released in Fall 2021.

Milky White Is Dead

By Anic Ulrope

You’re probably just jerking off to this 

you sick,

miserable fuck.

By the way, I’ve seen 

hidden Polaroids 

of your try hardness

The wonder and worry, of

if you are worthy

a husband, to my mother is gone 

Groom removed, the placeholder 

You, the cuck


Anic is a free thinker. A reader of obscure fiction. A writer of selfish convictions and harsh truths. When she is not reading or writing, she is selling books and roller skating, simultaneously if possible. Her writing background is a mixture of public-school English literature teachers, journaling, and collecting dreams, visions and thoughts since she was seven years old.

Her poetry holds space for subjects such as but never limited to mental health, sex, femininity, race, and individuality. She is currently exploring African ancestry and the complex consciousness that generates the African diaspora within American society.

Song of Mammon

By Matthew J. Andrews

When he shows up at my door – 

face smeared into a devilish grin,

one hand gripping a wine bottle,

the other hand pushing his way inside – 

his spirit fills the room like incense

and I take him into my nostrils.

When it gets dark, he puts his hands

around my neck and kisses me

until I shrivel on his acidic lips.

He takes me down into the bed,

where his restless hands melt 

and reshape me like a skilled potter,

and where he advances inside me

like a tumor until I whisper his name

into the empty corners of the room.


Matthew J. Andrews is a private investigator and writer whose poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Orange Blossom Review, Funicular Magazine, and EcoTheo Review. His debut chapbook, I Close My Eyes, and I Almost Remember, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press. He can be contacted at matthewjandrews.com.

Passing

By Kyle Brandt-Lubart

There is always ancestry

Whitewashed walls and a high-rise apartment

Filled with soulless trinkets

Shapeless statues and stale silence

The fridge is full of decomposed decadence

My grandmother insists Depression-era waste aversion

Mingles with keeping up appearances

She serves me rotting milk in my cereal

Shames me for every bite I do not finish

She hides by pretending to be French

By passing

Passing

For a mother who did not condone abuse

For not Arabic

A woman whole

She is in shards

A hapless collage of disdain

For the weak-willed whims of children

I thank her for having us over for a visit

Dreading the next time our blood aligns

I will never get the chance to ask her to explain herself

And am left tonguing a bitter dirge


Kyle Brandt-Lubart (she/her)  is a poet, visual artist, and Licensed Clinical Social Worker who resides in St. Louis, Missouri, USA. Brandt-Lubart works full-time, providing free therapy services to uninsured and underinsured individuals living with mental illness. She was a St. Louis Regional Arts Commission Community Arts Training Institute Fellow from 2017-2018. Her writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Vita Brevis, Agapanthus Collective, and MoonInk Tanka Poetry Anthology, and she was selected as a Dear Butte writer-in-residence for Fall 2021. She is co-author/illustrator of the chapbook, It Made A Sound, which is due to be released in Fall 2021.