Tag Archives: ode

Ode to Eating a Pomegranate in Brooklyn

books poetry lit February 19, 2015 Leave a comment

When I fall in love again I will have another heart

and a second set of eyes which is one way

to watch the woman you love          grow old

The story of my heartbreak started like this:

someone gave me a key that opens many doors

I traded it for a key that opens only one

I traded that one for another and that for another

until there were no more doors

          and I had a fist full of keys

At any given moment only part of the world is gruesome

There are three pomegranates in the fridge

waiting to be broken open

When I fall in love again

my beloved and I will spit seeds into the street

read more

-Patrick Rosal in Wax Wing Magazine

Thank you to Linebreak for publishing one of my poems!

books poetry lit October 15, 2014 Comments: 2

linebreak poem claire hellar

Lovely followers, I’m so excited to say that Linebreak, one of my very favorite poetry publications, picked up one of my poems, “Kitchen Ode”! Please read below and share on Facebook/Twitter if so inclined! (There are handy links at the bottom of the page)

Read or listen to “Kitchen Ode”  on Linebreak

Canticle of Waitresses, Waiting

books poetry lit March 23, 2014 Leave a comment

This is how we herded by the waitress station,

waiting, as the town, turned down to one by snow,

settled like a gown that smothered all that ailed us.

.

How we first heard about the hostages

on Facebook, and then the town knelt down to zero,

still as snow once it resolves itself to ground.

.

How the sidewalk still needed seeding with rock salt.

How even when a person stands still, they can slip.

.

How we counted the seeds of our blessings.

How our blessings rebounded off the booths like buckshot.

.

How we each sometimes rebound into being

a country of one self.

How we other times are one self of a city.

.

How only below zero can we remember

September as that country where we save daylight

like fat over our muscles.

.

How a woman ran at the chained gym doors

to save her daughter.

How she dropped on the unseeded walk.

How we’ll remember her legs as

a fleet of hummingbirds skidding through snow.

.

How sometimes, to give something a shot means kill it.

How other times it means just close your eyes.

–Saara Myrene Raappana, via Augury Books