The NY Literary Magazine

A Distinguished Selection of the Finest Modern Literature


rhyming poems

Unfit by Ron Walker

The shadows sway,
and stand agape,
and hair erect-
upon the nape
of time inside
this whiskey glass-
into Dragon Pass…

I have a soul
that must be sold-
I’m told it’s worth
the weight in gold,
I cannot get it back-
from voices on
this hellbound track…

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Sister Blue by Brenda Davis Harsham

Brother new, sister blue, I miss you.
Both lost at age four. Pain is evermore.

Is it wrong that I still long to belong?
To share every care and touch your hair?

To pillow fight, fly a kite, hold me tight,
whisper secrets in the dark, swing in the park?

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A Pox on ‘is Lordship by Spencer Ratcliff

I only nicked a spoon or two; perhaps a fork ‘n’ knife.
Then flogged em off behind the pub so I could buy some
bloody grub to feed the kids and wife.

They adn’t ate for firty arrs wiv rumbling guts ‘n’ aches.
Saw the tears roll darn the cheek
fer yet another bleeding week
wivart some bread or cakes.

Worked me bum off day ‘n’ night to make a bob or two.
Ad a shilling left for rent
wiv all the rest already spent…
didn’t know what else ter bleeding do.

Couldn’t bear ter see ‘em starve or ‘ear the baby weep.
So like a little ‘ungry mouse
I snuck inter ‘is Lordship’s ouse
while ee was fast asleep.

Some bastard at the Bull ’n’ Bush seed me do the deal.
Ee recognised the silverware;
ad the allmark to compare….
and so me kids never got that meal.

They cuffed me ‘ands behind me back and threw me in a cell.
They put me in the Bailey dock;
and kept me under key and lock,
then sent me darn ter hell.

They said I’d ang at Tyburn, but then they changed their mind.
Instead they give me seven years
of labour ard wiv sweat and tears…
cos they was really kind.

Wivvin a week I’m in an ulk ‘n’ off ter Noo Sarth Wales.
They beats yer ard ‘n’ whips yer bad,
sends yer nearly effing mad
inside them floatin’ gaols.

I gets there March of 1812 and lives me life in chains.
It urts to work ‘n’ urts to walk
and even urts to bloody talk,
so few of us complains.

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A Lonely Sigh by Tina Cox

A lonely sigh up to the moon
A broken heart an empty room
A heaving breast that goes untouched
A velvet thigh no lovers blush
No lips to part
No gentle kiss

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Mr. Buckles by Jennifer Criss

The bunny slumped way over on the shelf
Abandoned and a bit sorry for himself
He had been her favorite for years and years
Dragged through the dirt and carried by the ears

One eye, a black button had come undone
His matted faux fur bleached from the sun
On school yard, playgrounds, and grandma’s front stair
With Ann, Mr. Buckles went everywhere

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Ten Years by Damon Chambers

In the last ten years I have faced cancer and survived a stroke.
Let me be the one to tell you that your health is no joke.

In the last ten years I had a marriage end in divorce.

Keeping my family together at any cost wasn’t something I could force.

In the last ten years I found a new love more than a few times at that.
I learned once again relationships can quickly go flat.

In the last ten years I lost my mother way too early.

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