Thursday, November 16, 2017

Tuesday, October 10, 2017

My poem, "Do Not Resuscitate," was the contest runner-up and is up now at the Hospital Drive website.  This poem pretty much wrote itself, as what happens in the poem happened almost exactly in real life.

Friday, August 25, 2017

New Poems

I have two poems up--one about my ovaries--yay!!--and one about a rather feminist Cinderella, at Rag Queen Review.  Be sure to check out the fabulous poems by Alessandra Bava and Sarah Nichols.

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

The Indianapolis Review

I've got a poem in the brand spanking new journal The Indianapolis Review.  It's a gorgeous journal with fabulous artwork, a conversation with Adrian Matejka, and other poems by really fantastic poets.  One really nice thing that happened:  someone happened to really like my line "peonies that could fill bras" and drew an amazing and beautiful rendition of that image and shared it with me on Facebook!  How cool is that?!?

Sunday, July 9, 2017

Crab Creek Review Finalist!

I'm very excited to share that my poem, "Self-Portrait as Seven Deadly Sins," is a finalist in the poetry contest at Crab Creek Review!  Diane Seuss was the contest judge and wrote very nice things about my poem as well as the winner and other finalist that you can read here.  I absolutely adore this journal and am so pleased to be part of it.  You should get a subscription to the magazine so you can read the wonderful work they publish. 

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

My "Self-Portrait as Tide Pool" is up at a very new journal, The Curve.  I'm super excited to be the first featured poet!  Hope you enjoy. 

Friday, June 2, 2017

God Comes Over

I have three new poems up at Calamus Journal and you can read how God comes over to clean my house here.

Saturday, May 27, 2017

The Johnson Girls



My new chapbook, The Johnson Girls, is now available for purchasing.  The poem that's available to read has its last line chopped off, unfortunately.  So you should buy the chapbook to find out how it's suppose to read!!!

Did I mention my maiden name was Johnson?  And that my sisters and I drove a white Monte Carlo everywhere?  You should read these poems.  :)

Saturday, April 1, 2017

Donika Kelly's Poem for April 1st

Love Poem:  Chimera


I thought myself lion and serpent. Thought
myself body enough for two, for we.
Found comfort in never being lonely.

What burst from my back, from my bones, what lived
along the ridge from crown to crown, from mane
to forked tongue beneath the skin. What clamor

we made in birthing. What hiss and rumble
at the splitting, at the horns and beard,
at the glottal bleat. What bridges our back.

What strong neck, what bright eye. What menagerie
are we. What we've made of ourselves.


from Bestiary.  Donika Kelly

Thursday, September 1, 2016

Commit To

Image of the Day:  Grey day in the city--and traffic, construction, utility work.  Driving just sucks.


What I'm reading:  Security Mom by Juliette Kayyem.  Landscape with Headless Mama by Jennifer Givhan.  Poems and fiction in the journal Cherry Tree, which I highly recommend.

I've got stacks and stacks of books I really want to read and yet can't seem to successfully read one completely.  I start reading a book, am enjoying it, and then hear about a book that sounds fantastic and go buy it on Amazon and then it sits in a pile in my house. I really don't see this changing any time soon, either.  I annoy myself.

So I took an on-line course for the month of August and didn't do very well in it.  I managed to write two poems out of the assigned four, and didn't comment nearly enough on the other participants' work.  Fail.  I think a weekly on-line course is as much time as I can commit to.  I've gotten a slew of rejections, but many have been very kind, asking me to submit again.  I also have a few acceptances which is also nice.  I have three poems here at Border Crossing, which is filled with amazing poems and writing. 

But I've started another Poem-A-Day group for September.  I've been getting like four or five poems from these monthly spurts of poetry and then stop for various reasons.  Which is something, I guess.


The Truth You Heard


The truth you heard is wrong, is happy-hung
absurd inside your dumb and rusty heart,
love-sick and goat-jaw at the seams, wet tongue
of God a quick surprise of stop and start
and does-not-care, and if inside the breath
on which you fall asleep a prayer abides
within your chest, the crusty shibboleth
of violent ends, of trust in smallish lies,
perhaps you start to doubt the stumbled halls
of dreams that render in dissolve, in mise
en scène
of box inside of box, so small
and so serene. So, then, the lie: a tree,
a sin, a careless whim, a flesh of rain,
and so the world, the loss, the lovely pain.


John Blair

The Squannacook

I have a poem here in the new journal Rockvale Review , a gorgeous journal to read cover to cover.  Spend some time reading all the deliciou...