Thursday, October 10, 2019

Poet Blood. By Sara Minges



Blood poets will
bet it all,
every last nickel,
damn it all to hell,
for one last poem

to feel alive, one last time
like an addict needing 
one last hit.

Blood full of whisky dreams
pulsing to the drum
of the road less taken.  

They will wait for that poem
like a lusty love affair
they can’t quite let go of.

Somewhere between 
Bourbon Street
and Café du Monde, 
they’ll sit, drinking a mug
of chickory, waiting.

They know better of course.  





Sara Minges is a 2019 Pitch Best Poet of KC Nominee, Founder of Wonder Woman Rising, peer mentor, coach and motivational speaker living in Overland Park, KS.  She is the author of Naked Toes (Chameleon Press, 2019), and her work has also appeared in Prompts! An Anthology (39 West Press, 2016), Hessler Street Fair 50th Edition (Writing Knights Press, 2019) and Angel’s Share (Shine Runner Press, 2019).  She’s been a featured poet at Blue Monday (2015, Kansas City, MO); Swordfish Tom’s Speakeasy (Kansas City, MO); 3 Wishes (Merriam, KS); Poets & Pints (Minneapolis, MN); Mac’s Back Books, CLE Urban Winery, Visible Voices, and Glass City Roasters (Cleveland and Toledo, OH); In One Ear (Chicago, IL), The Porch (Nashville, TN) and Crescent Moon (Lincoln, NE).  

2 comments:

Them Voices.. By Michael E. Duckwall

  I tried talking to myself, they say ten different voices in one head means “Schizophrenia?” or however you spell it. The voices say “My sp...