An apology

We have not updated this page with any new poetry since before Christmas last year.  We have not updated you guys on the fact that you are STILL  welcome to submit poetry 🙂

We are still paying poetic attention. It’s Black History month, read some Maya Angelou or Langston Hughes.  There might be posts here for Women’s History month (that it is in MARCH does not escape us).

Check out the Poetry Pasta Facebook page for calls for submissions, poetry and writing cartoons, articles and pictures.You are always welcome to post your poems on our FB page


Stay tuned … 🙂



Christmastime in America by Donal Mahoney

Christmastime in America by Donal Mahoney

You see the oddest things 
at Christmastime in America.
The bigger the city, 
the stranger the sights.
I was driving downtown 
to buy gifts for the family 
and enjoying bouquets
of beautiful people
bundled in big coats
and colorful scarves
clustered on corners,
shopping in good cheer
amid petals of snow 
dancing in the sun. 

One of them, however,
a beautiful young lady,
had stopped to take issue 
with an old woman in a shawl
picketing Planned Parenthood.
The old woman was riding
on a motor scooter 
designed for the elderly.
She held a sign bigger
than she was and kept
motoring back and forth
as resolute as my aunt
who had been renowned 
for protesting any injustice.
Saving seals in the Antarctic 
had been very important to her.

On this day, however, 
the beautiful young lady
who had taken issue
with the old woman  
was livid and screaming.
She marched behind 
the motor scooter and 
yelled at the old woman 
who appeared oblivious
to all the commotion.
Maybe she was deaf,
I thought, like my aunt.
That can be an advantage
at a time like this.

The letters on the sign were huge
but I couldn’t read them
so I drove around the block
and found a spot at the curb.

It turned out the sign said,
“What might have happened
if Mary of Nazareth 
had been pro-choice?
Now I understood 
why the young lady
was ranting and raving
and why the old woman
kept motoring to and fro.
At Christmastime in America
people get excited,
more so than usual.

When I got home 
I hid my packages 
and told my wife at supper
what I had seen.
I also told her that if Mary 
had chosen otherwise,
I wouldn’t have had 
to go shopping today.
That’s obvious, she said. 

3 poems from Stefanie Bennett

THE THAW    [Stefanie Bennett]
A dam is opening its gates in your eyes …
     The snow on your eyelashes has melted.
     You are visualising some lost country.
     A lone thought like a passing love twinges.
     Our time has gone sour.
Perhaps that blackbird at the window-pane
Signifies what I can’t explain:
     A dam
     Its gates …
HORSE SENSE    [Stefanie Bennett]
My dear Romulus, I must
Concur… all
These little wars
Are too cute
By far
For a pedestrian’s
Inner sanctum.
When in Rome, do
‘Remus’ –.
THE LITERARY LIFE   [Stefanie Bennett]
Beside the back-yard
Rain barrel
The sallow
Blue dog
And gardenia
       … Hope
Stefanie Bennett has published several books of poetry, a novel &
a libretto. Of mixed ancestry [Irish/Italian/Paugussett-Shawnee] she
was born in Queensland, Australia. Her latest poetry title – 2015 – is
“The Vanishing” with Walleah Press.

The Empty Nest by Robin Goodfellow


The Empty Nest by Robin Goodfellow

Sleeping inside a rotting cradle

eyes flutter shut in the dark,

dreaming of songs and of fables,

the quiet from a forgetful heart.

Little leaves caress its face

amongst the fragile silence.

Upon an eroding, changing grace,

it hides itself from violence.

Twigs and buds from long lost times

carelessly lulls it to sleep.

The soundless chirping and broken ties

to an innocence so forever deep.

Worried shadows gather forth,

while white feathers cascade.

They all call forth from endless lore,

while desperately watching it fade.

Abandoned and lost the tiny babe cries

forever entwined in pitiful lies,

yet still it drifts, and can no longer deny

the pleasure of illusions




The cookie jar by Daginne Aignend


The cookie jar by Daginne Aignend

When he gets home from work

he barely greets the wife

plumbs down on the sofa

and reaches out for the cookie jar

He has to clear his head

by consuming a suitable amount

of chocolate chip, macaroons, or whatever cookies

as long as they’re fresh

He really doesn’t enjoy the taste of it

in need as he is

of the soothing chewing jaw movements

to relief his daily frustration

When the wife forgets to refill the jar

he almost feels like hitting her

being that negligent towards his necessities He, the hardworking family man

deserves some more respect

for maintaining her and Bernie, the dachshund

Today, when he entered the house

he knew something was terribly wrong

The cookie jar laid splintered

on the freshly waxed oak parquetry

Instead of the illuminating scent of bakery

he smells chemicals, some disinfectant or detergent

The living room was a paragon of decent cleanliness,

except for his beloved, shattered cookie jar

Suddenly he noticed a small piece of paper

beside the jar, recognizing the handwriting of the wife

‘Burned me at the oven while baking your vanilla biscuits

and realized our relation has been totally burned out

I will only leave behind the shards of the cookie jar

as a symbol of our broken marriage

©Daginne Aignend


Daginne Aignend is a pseudonym for the Dutch poetess Inge Wesdijk. She started to write English poetry four years ago and posted some of her poems on her Facebook page and on her website. She likes hard rock music, photography and fantasy books. Daginne is a vegetarian and spends a lot of time with her animals.

Take Fresh by Franco Esposito

frank w glassesTake Fresh by Franco Esposito

I want to write stories

that tell of life
I have never lived
and words that mill
I have never sung
and yet they ring in me
like some bell on a hill
I have walked across
and realized it calls for me
to take fresh the morning air
and to wake again
in the bright stars
as the moon
and the night

The Beauty of Halloween’s Ugly Side by Ben W.

thumbnail_ben-vvThe Beauty of Halloween’s Ugly Side by Ben W.


It was a special good evening…

I was about to enter the right of wining…

So I engaged my mind in deep thinking…

The inspiration led me to singing:



‘’Though I thought she was near

Decorated pumpkins she wear

“Jack-o-Lanterns!” she hear

Her scary face not mere        

Playing tricks she spare

Her horror brings fear

Lighted bonfires she dare

Her costume colors the white bear

At night, the vampire in her is brought to bear

Her Ghost travels in time’s fare

Her witch-wizard identity she pair

This is seen from her two-eye rear’

She’s beautiful when her ugly side is seen, my dear!’’


‘You sang well about me’ a voice whispered

‘Me?’ I wondered, looking around the place to find the whisperer

 ‘It’s me… The Beauty…that has its shades of ugliness’ replied the voice

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I asked, looking confused

‘Though what makes the Hallo in me makes you Win’ it responded, a bit louder

‘I’m your companion for the day…Halloween!’


(The Voice Disappeared)


‘Oh, it’s Halloween!’ I consciously remembered

‘Now I know why I must win’


Later that evening…


I deliberately made The beauty of the shades of ugliness my companion…

By simply appreciating Halloween’s Conviction


 Author Bio

Following the words of the great Greek philosopher, Socrates, ‘Employ your time by improving with other men’s writings so that you can gain easily what others labored hard for’,  Mr. Ben, as he is fondly called, is poised to impact humanity in all spheres of life and human recognition. With his knowledge zenith, he is willing to disseminate valued and ageless information to all interested persons, groups and organizations-what he toiled to gain over the years.

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His amazing writing skills, novel concepts, creative works and avid reading and communication skills have earned him a recognized membership with the following international affiliations;, and other known writers’ organizations. No doubt, he is not only a writer with a difference but also an entrepreneur, investor and a philanthropist whose slogan reads ‘service to God and humanity are paramount’.