The Poetry Corner featuring Nina Romano!

Good morning and welcome to this week’s Poetry Corner! Please join me in welcoming Nina Romano! 🙂


In my pristine green wash room,
I turn a black wool sweater inside out,
so my hand beading will remain intact
when I gently rub-a-dub-dub.

My jeans are old and frayed,
but memories line their pockets.
I extract sunflower seeds from the seams,
and it seems I’m once again cheering
at a soccer game in Foro Italico
an upward view of Belsito balconies
aflutter with overburdened clotheslines.

Tossing the jeans
in the washing machine,
I see the hems are worn
and remember Roman summers
when I was a fleet charioteer
guiding tourists in the Coliseum,
near the Ghetto whose narrow alleys
were tented over by hanging sheets.

Ashes on a skirt give vent to dreams
of volcanic danger,
walking the edges of Etna
where peasant girls in headscarves
hang clothes to dry in Sirocco winds.

Ah! and here are Nike shorts and socks—
outfit of a marathon racer to win your love—
I’d follow you anywhere, travel-lover.
You romance my heart as no one else,
like nothing else on earth—
We cruise the Mediterranean,
while the shoreline fisherman mend nets,
and women soak their salt-encrusted clothes.

A color profusion, a muted peacock’s tail on silk,
speaks of beckoning coastlines;
haunting images race back to me,
sailing the world’s wide open arms and finger lakes,
and I can picture still women in hijab
beating cotton robes upon flat rocks
on the banks of the Nile.

Open rock beach spaces
engorged by roaring surf
lead to fjords in Croatia,
and women rinsing soap from coverlets,
twisting towels of excess water.

Seas pilot us to tributaries of the Yangtze,
and evocative landscapes of river markets
as we travel on flat-bottom boats
in Bangkok and from the back of barges
washtubs overflowing.

And always, always
baptizing babies,
burying their dead in water graves,
women laundering
women cleansing away
the bloodstains of martyrs
in wars they never sought.

About the Poem: “Travels from My Laundry Room” was first published in the Northville Review, and it is in my poetry collection, Faraway Confections.

Awesome poem! Thank you for sharing, Nina! 🙂

Contact Nina Romano at:



If you would like to share your poetry here, or know anyone that would like to be featured, please email me at

As always, any poetry shared remains the property of the poet. I only share it with the poet’s permission.


About CP Bialois

Where do I begin? Well first I guess it's only fair to say that CP Bialois isn't my real name. It's a collaboration I made out of the three greatest pets anyone could ever want. My real name is Ed and I'm just an average person that has found a way to do what he loves. For as long back as I can remember I loved to pretend. Whether it was with my Transformers, GI Joe, or He-Man toys I loved to create intricate plots and have them fight it out. As a fan of horror, science fiction, action, and comedy I dare say my taste in movies are well rounded. Some of my favorites were Star Wars, Star Trek, martial arts, and anything with Swarzenegger in them. I'd write my own stories about the characters I saw in the theaters or TV or I'd just daydream about what I'd see myself as the hero of course. You can't have a daydream without beating the bad guys, getting the girl, etc. It's just not right to envision yourself as a flunky or sidekick. As far as books I loved Sherlock Holmes, Treasure Island, Dracula, and the normal assortment. My early love was the Star Trek novels, I'd read them or the Hardy Boys relentlessly. For a time I could tell you the plot of over a hundred books not to mention comics. I have to come clean and say that I learned to read because of comic books. I was bored, make that extremely bored when we started to read in school. Reading "the cat fell down" really didn't interest me. My dad, who continues to astound me with his insight to this day, figured comics would work. With that in mind he went to the newstand in town and bought issues of Donald Duck, Scrooge McDuck, Tales From the Crypt, and Spider-man. He patiently read through them with me until I picked it up. Whether it was him or the comics I learned to read in about two weeks and for a while few were as good as I was. For years after that whenever we'd go out he'd always spring for a couple of comic books for me. While it wasn't exactly the perfect beginning everything I've ever read or have seen has influenced me in some way and now is the time I'd like to share some of the ideas I've had over the years with all of you. I hope you enjoy my stories, they're always fun to write and I don't see myself stopping anytime soon.
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