Poetry Commons^™

Grief, Be My Coverlet, Mohja Kahf

Bryant Literary Review

Grief, be white daisies

Charcoal Nude, John Sibley Williams

Bryant Literary Review

Roughed-up: edges indistinct: body

softly black & blending with all this white

If The Stars Had Voices, Buff Whitman-Bradley

Bryant Literary Review

If the stars had voices
They would surely sound
Like cricket song

Brutality, Laurie Lessen Reiche

Bryant Literary Review

I.

There is something I want to say about brutality.

It comes out the lips of the hateful

mother, the beautiful mother.

My Father’S Loaves And Fishes, Lennie Hay

Bryant Literary Review

In his soft throaty voice he speaks of rice—

washing and rinsing hard kernels,

how hands knock them on the side of a pot

until water runs clear. How it will rise

When Death Comes, Carol Tyx

Bryant Literary Review

after Mary Oliver

When death comes

like the dentist,

sticking her hand

into your mouth,

Gunn Hill, Pat Daneman

Bryant Literary Review

Given time, a place becomes a thing

small enough to hold in memory’s grip,

strong enough to struggle free. Frightened

When I Think About The Funeral, I Find I Can Taste The Mints, Nichole Page

Bryant Literary Review

I can hear the crinkle of the wrapper, the sniffling and speeches

My fingers push it from the plastic casing giving me something to do

Fragments Of Mother, Sheree La Puma

Bryant Literary Review

daughter, i rock your empty

cradle & ask myself,

how long will we

make war?

Could We Be Coyotes, George Longenecker

Bryant Literary Review

who howl all night behind the house,

whose ancestors mated with wolves?

Our Tiny Somewhere, Martina Nicholson

Bryant Literary Review

a description of Earth from Maria Popova

The speck in the last

Voyager photograph

was Earth,

When Fall Arrives, David James

Bryant Literary Review

Fall in four days and another year

winds down to a grinding stop.

The apples ripen in the sun

while the serrano peppers implode.

Saudade, Lisa Russo

Bryant Literary Review

Now that you're gone, you've left me longing.

I smile softly because you were here

All I Know About Pool, Charles Harper Webb

Bryant Literary Review

Winning depends on the right numbers and hues.

If White rolls in a hole, like a dog, you scratch.

Living Dolls, Andrena Zawinski

Bryant Literary Review

A living doll, everywhere you look.

It can sew, it can cook,

It can talk, talk, talk. Sylvia Plath

As a little girl, I never wanted any creepy

Judge, John P. Kristofco

Bryant Literary Review

Richard Witched noticed the small envelope in his mailbox right away.

It sat like a white raft on the sea of gray, brown, and beige detritus that

gathered, as it did almost every day, in his slot.

The Commandment, James Armstrong

Bryant Literary Review

Brontë enthusiasts tend to be a bit fanatical. A university hosts their conference each summer, and grown men and women- not just scholars, but librarians and secretaries and retirees- pay for the privilege to live in cramped dorm rooms for a week, eat lousy food and attend lectures on Villette and Agnes Grey and storm imagery in Wuthering Heights.

Fortress*, . Yvonne

Bryant Literary Review

Not a single ceiling or window fan

In our stifling apartment on the top floor.

Editors' Note

Bryant Literary Review

No abstract provided.

The Good Son, William Torphy

Bryant Literary Review

I'm on Trailways, staring through dirty windows at mounds of snow piled on the side of the road. I couldn't face everyone's questions, their judgments. Even Shirley at the bank gave me a suspicious look when she handed me my cancelled savings book and the $357.45 from my account this morning.

Monkey Time, Eric Greinke

Bryant Literary Review

Communication devices destroy communication.

Text messages erode the language,

Vaya Con Dios, Russ Allison Loar

Bryant Literary Review

I could kill you with this little finger,

He says,

Jutting the scabrous thing out into the shivering night,

Pointed menacingly toward the enemy

Dog Whistle, Tina Cane

Bryant Literary Review

It begins with a tweet the bird kind in which a friend of mine

deems the hummingbird her spirit animal delicate engine

Saying Goodbye In Brussels, Lawrence F. Farrar

Bryant Literary Review

It was a day like many others that had passed since Brett Smalley's arrival in Dusseldorf. It differed, however, in one significant respect for the sales representative of Chicago-based Windham Metallurgical, Inc.

The Bush Burned With Fire And The Bush Was Not Consumed, Peter Munro

Bryant Literary Review

Skin draws gaunt to his skull, deflating

jowls he has borne across eight decades.

The Help, J. Tarwood

Bryant Literary Review

In the morning, the radio

praises God while the maid

cracks eggs.

Little Mercies, Terry Sanville

Bryant Literary Review

I hadn't seen him in fifty years. But I still wanted to kill him. I didn't know when, where, or how. But the way of it seemed crystal.

God And God's, Sandy Weisman

Bryant Literary Review

God ran our house, decided what

we could or could not do.

Night Shadows, Jimmie Pennington

Bryant Literary Review

Night shadows

lie on empty walls

like the silhouettes

of yesterday's dreams

Copy Cat Music, John Krumberger

Bryant Literary Review

I never asked his name

-no suitable pause between the torrent

of New York accented syllables that flowed