April 16, 2024

Introducing PS Conway, Poetry Writer-in-Residence

Introducing PS Conway, Poetry Writer-in-Residence

We are excited to announce our third Poet-in-Residence, PS Conway! He is a prolific writer who posts his poems on his website, Facebook, and X (formerly Twitter). Last year, we invited him to submit his poems to The Fictional Café. We enjoyed them so much; we nominated him for a Pushcart Prize.  His poetry collection, Echoes Lost in Stars: Poems by PS Conway, was published in March. It is his first solo publication and hit Amazon No.1 Top New Release three times in its first three weeks of release. He was also kind enough to give us a few poems from his book, which you can read down below. Please join us in wishing PS a successful residency!  A Note from PS: I am so humbled to become a member of the talented Fictional Café…

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April 1, 2024

Fictional Cafe’s National Poetry Month, 2024

Fictional Cafe’s National Poetry Month, 2024

For the 4th year, Fictional Cafe spends the month of April celebrating poets and their poetry. April Fool’s Day notwithstanding, welcome to America’s National Poetry Month! We have a full month of great poetry, written by our own Coffee Club members, to share with you. Two highlights: please welcome our new Poet-in-Residence PS Conway! Just last month PS published his first collection of poetry in a book entitled Echoes Lost in Stars. It was an immediate hit bestseller. Grab your copy from your favorite bookseller. This guy loves to write, and we’re saving a special spot for an excerpt in two weeks. But first up for the month is a frequent contributor, Michael Larrain, who has written a six-part epic poem entitled “The Life of A Private Eye.” It’s engrossing, and we just published Part…

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August 9, 2023

“Coddled by Mountains,” Poetry by PS Conway

“Coddled by Mountains,” Poetry by PS Conway

coddled by mountains watercolor skyline we have forgotten the artist but recall the art on a wall, set apart while all the while Cézanne lies face down in a field surrounded, coddled by mountains carefully crafted by the same god he helped re-create ** seaside ministrations bundled warm and dry midst the juniper subtle scents of pine and lavender blend to blunt the violence of raging surf and the winds that lament with banshee song first days of February, tides carry reminders of winter’s devastations flotsam mottles waves snowflakes cascade white blur the aplomb of the horizon line springtide seems so far away, here amongst the rocks and sand, no driftwood dry enough to light a fire no reeds to weave a holy rood nor to silence the dogged banshee keen the poet has denied…

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