Tag Archives: Eric Robert Nolan

“Wow, Espresso Brownie,” by Eric Robert Nolan

Wow, espresso brownie,
you hit like a truck.
Your sugar and caffeine
make me high as f…



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Fakespeare

“The last whisper of your transaction, success is the vow we avow.”

These fake-invoice e-mail scams are really getting poetic.

Not gonna fall for the scam itself, but I just might fall for you, oh Internet trickster.



I don’t understand the new “Walking Dead” preview.

walking dead

The Piker Press publishes “Iphigenia’s Womb”

I’m so pleased today to see The Piker Press feature my poem “Iphigenia’s Womb.”  You can find it right here.

Thanks, as always, to Managing Editor Sand Pilarski for allowing me to be a part of this great creative community.  🙂



A sure thing.

I noticed this last night.  Ridley Scott is a Cinema God, and I should be cast out for nitpicking his genre-defining masterpiece.  (If you need to ask which movie I am talking about, I’m not sure we can be friends.)

But the word nerd in me needs to point out that the computer here probably meant “ensure” instead of “insure.”



ensure

“Ode to a Polish Plum Cake,” by Eric Robert Nolan

Infused in crumbling crust
is delectable violent violet –
a pounded plum,
a welt of fruit.
Oh, if my lips could peruse
that square and powdered sugar-bruise.

(c) Eric Robert Nolan 2024



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Photo credit: Takeaway, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0&gt;, via Wikimedia Commons

You’ve heard of Elf on a Shelf. Now get ready for …

… Falconry on a Balcony.

The_Falconer_-_Thomas_Couture

“The Falconer,” Thomas Couture

Everyone’s cracking Ides of March jokes. It makes me want to take a stab at it.

And why not?  I’m a sharp guy.



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Feeling thankful for what I have.

Food, a nice place to live in a city that I love, a wonderful girl and loads of good friends. A good portion of the world is not so lucky.

Perspective is a good thing.

Eschewing the Oxford comma — that’s something else I’m thankful for.



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“An Ode to Daylight Savings”

Your absence ever leaves me sour,
annual absconded hour —

that vexing day when March exhibits
sixty fewer sleeping minutes.

Subtract an hour of labor, please!
But leave to me my precious Z’s!

— Eric Robert Nolan



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