Tag: poetry

  • New Chapbook by Oisín Breen

    New Chapbook by Oisín Breen

    We’d like to share the news of a new chapbook by Gyroscope Review poet Oisín Breen, Lilies on the Deathbed of Étaín and Other Poems. Steeped in the tradition of Irish poetry, Oisín weaves his way through folklore and the natural world with evocative imagery. Introduction by Oisín I’ve never been the best at précis,…

  • The 2022 Year End Anthology

    The 2022 Year End Anthology

    In time for your holiday shopping—The 2022 Year End Anthology of Gyroscope Review. The Gyroscope Review Year-End Anthology for 2022 contains all 4 editions (Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall Crone Power Issue) of Gyroscope Review poetry magazine. Only available in print version, get all your 2022 issues for half the price! The Year End Anthology…

  • 4 Ways to Jump Start Your Poetry

    4 Ways to Jump Start Your Poetry

    4 Ways to Jump Start Your Poetry: Imagine you’re driving on an unknown dirt road and come to a five-way stop. (work with me here) Not using a GPS, or a map, you need to make a decision on which way to go. You know where you’ve been. Excitement rises at the possibilities. Each direction…

  • Poet of the Day – Karen George

    National Poetry Month April 30, 2020 Karen George Frida Kahlo, Henry Ford Hospital (The Flying Bed), 1932         Frida, not everyone wants to see you unclothed on a hospital bed in the open air, industrial Detroit on the horizon, blood puddling beneath you. Clutched in your hand, long umbilical cords attached to floating objects:…

  • Poet of the Day – Claire Rubin

    National Poetry Month April 29, 2020. Claire Rubin Wise Penelope   Twenty years without hearth sitting, shawl weaving, sock sewing, without supervising servants so the roast pig is pleasing to the hoards of lascivious men swigging wine, pinching servants and waving cardboard swords   Twenty years of adventures, the captain of her ship never falling…

  • Poet of the Day – Susan Wismer

    National Poetry Month April 28, 2020 Susan Wismer The Babysitter   I wanted to touch Mrs Quinn’s neck my hand, stubby, unsure, poised four years old   I wanted to trace the round line of her collar the base of her throat rest, just for a moment my pointer finger   on the cup of…