New
The Gumball Post
An online poetry workshop. Post your work before a jury of your peers.
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First you have to make the oranges.
To do that
you must become
an orange tree
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Mom razzes Nixon from the couch,
calling him a dumb hammer
and the insult sounds funny
but we are quiet
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rain that trips and falls
rain that pisses its pants
rain that defies fire
rain that dares peel off its opaque plastic poncho
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Mimic, mimic, mimic, it
repeats even in sleep
like a bloated conure
perched on the aorta.
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See the Machines Here
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Flame the Bard!
(The Gumball Poetry guestbook.) We know you've got something to say to Shakespeare (or to us).
Test our ratings system or leave your mark on Gumball Poetry.
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Know Flash?
Feel like getting seen? Gumball Poetry is looking for some good, poetic (macromedia) flash submissions to publish in a flash-poetry-gallery. Whether it's image-based or word-based, send us your URL of where you currently have it (or if it's not up on the web, please tell us the size before sending). And start thinking fame.
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Gumball Poetry:
a sort of chronology
contact us TOP submissions
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Gumball Bulletin
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A man came and cut a hole in the wall.
Now their room hums and purrs, exchanging
one air for another.
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I know my foot,
the right one, the unlucky one,
the one broken once while skiing:
a mismatch between slope
and talent.
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I have searched for truth in every pause,
stoplight to stoplight.
When the chair accelerates, I am weightless,
an earthbound alien.
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