Irene Koronas


Irene Koronas






old blue blood sonnet


her age 75 or 80 maybe younger

her patina image on jewel box

thin red lips, white and black dress


simple loneliness


her husband dead 13 or 14 years

she stopped counting days.

nothing moves or shines


her eyes scrutinize


I may not wear red lip stick

or pancake makeup, my eyes cast blue

as she saunters, sure footed, by me




his rain sonnet


rain washes street debris

his tears watered in


his fall, he piles them in notebooks

rejoicing when sun appears redundan


clouds move off the heat

dries leaves. his special font


he reads for those teetering

women who sit in cushioned lofts


dreams his hands will reach

their breasts strapped behind foamy frost


lacy satin, lounging along beach

he’ll swim into their arms


write in his notebooks to keep sane










Irene Koronas is the poetry editor for Wilderness House Literary Review. She has three full length books, Portraits Drawn from Many, Ibbetson Street Press; Pentakomo Cyprus, Cervena Barva Press; and Turtle Grass; Muddy River Books. She has numerous chapbooks; poetry in many anthologies. She reviews poetry books for the small press community.


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