Poetry Tips: 15 Minutes

Lately I’ve been reading articles that talk about spending fifteen minutes a day on something, whether it’s writing a book, organizing a closet, etc. So why not set a timer for fifteen minutes a day for your own creative will? You don’t have to limit yourself to poetry, the idea is to cater to your creative desires in general, maybe it’s taking pictures or drawing, an art project or even sitting down to write that letter you’ve been meaning to write. If you do this for 21 days it is said you’ll form a habit and then creativity will flow easily in all aspects of your life—even with writing poems. I challenge you all to try fifteen minutes a day for the next 21 days to do something, anything creative.

Good luck to all who try it, please stop in next week for Monday’s featured site…

Beloit Poetry Journal Open Submissions

Please note that it is a good idea to view some past issues before submitting your poems. Beloit Poetry Journal is accepting up to five pages of poetry (either as long poems or up to five poems) with a Self Addressed Stamped Envelope enclosed. They do not accept simultaneous submissions but they do read year round. You may send your poems to:

Beloit Poetry Journal
P.O. Box 151
Farmington,
ME 04938

Good luck to all who submit, please stop in tomorrow for more Poetry Tips…

Poems Found By Poet Hound

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=238806
“Untitled” by Dorothea Grossman

http://arseniclobster.magere.com/210101.html
“In the calm days of poverty: we chill on the front porch” by Kenyatta Rogers

Thanks for clicking in, please stop by tomorrow for more Open Submissions...

some misplaced joan of arc by leah angstman

some misplaced joan of arc by leah angstman is published by Alternating Current’s Propaganda Press. This collection features some tongue-in-cheek moments, the frustrations of travel to visit family, and unexpected thrills such as filling in the crossword puzzle of someone else’s New York Times’ newspaper then leaving it behind perfectly intact. Below I am happy to share a few poems:


the day edward norton came into my bar

i wished I were naked
not because
i want to be bare
in front of ed Norton
but because
i happened to be wearing
under terrible coincidence
my incredible hulk shirt
like a geeky comic book fancore nerd

over my shoulder
tvs blaring previews
for the very movie
whose wares i am sporting

approaching the table
placing coasters just perfectly
he knows i know
offers eyes
and says

nice shirt

in my head
i ask him for his autograph
out loud
i ask him what he’d like
to drink


This poem made me laugh aloud, how about you? Whether this actually happened or not it is something I can picture perfectly and how very human nature to want the autograph of the person whose movie you liked but be unable to ask for it when presented the opportunity. All the emotions you can imagine Ms. Angstman experiencing are easily read between the lines here, the humiliation and the hesitation.



no place like home for the holiday

after eighteen hours in the airport
on a snowstorm and a
canceled flight
we arrived
to your stomach flu
to your burnt green bean casserole
to your stockings full of
coal for the twenty-eighth year
like it’s still funny

your unplowed driveway
and unshoveled walk
and broken space heater
that sometimes works on low
sometimes but not always
and not this time

we drank your weird fruit punch concoction
and your way too spiked egg nog
while listening to grandpa’s dentures click
as he shuffles through the house
on slippers and last legs
your instant coffee
that never dissolves in
the luke cold water
from your broken pot
that sometimes works on certain settings
sometimes but not always
and not this time

after working six days a week
for a full year for my only
one-week vacation
we arrived to
your attack cat killing
both allergies and ankles
your same old christmas cds
on repeat
complete with skips
in the same places
from the broken player
that sometimes works if you flick the button hard
sometimes but not always
and not this time

aunt gwen’s same beehive
aunt elsa’s same stringy hair
your same bouffant
and a new wailing sick baby
whose only gift
was the flu bug
fucking babies never give
good gifts

after planning all year
to enjoy home for christmas
we arrived
to your beat up rusted out
midwestern salt-eaten
bottom-falling-out hippie
van stranding us by the
side of the highway in
ghetto flint
your broken van that
sometimes works if you pound your
head on the steering wheel just-so
sometimes but not always
and not this time

For all of you who may have happily escaped the stressful holiday memories I’m sure this poem brought them rushing back into your mind. This poem made me laugh, too, as it is easy to relate to in my own visits with friends and family over the years. I especially love the ending lines “sometimes but not always/and not this time” since this theme really brings home the frustrations of the season and the idea of working so hard for a “vacation” that is obviously anything but. One disaster after another spelled out in the most interesting and perverse ways: brilliant, Ms. Angstman, just brilliant.



bangs are that on which the world hangs

strutting
along mass ave
central square
hopping with a
hip step
strolling with a
cool swinged
swagger
checking myself out
in curio windows
reflections of
junk shops and
hobo hangouts

thinking yeah baby
that’s right
i’m bringin back
the bangs

and i blow up a
little puff of breath
to feather them
as they fall into place
in love with each other
when

my hip hips
and sordid ankle
strike the hole where
a brick had been borrowed
for the foundation of a
hobo’s house

and down i go
pride and face first
my bangs landing
across a puddle of rainwater

wet as anita Ekberg
and still dancing
in their own fountain

Yes, I’m taking up the poems I find humorous in this collection. Who can’t relate to feeling on top of the world and then being fed a dose of humility? I love the imagery of the puff of air blowing the bangs up and then they fall into place “in love with each other” which shows how fluid and smooth the motion is. Then, despite the human, the bangs are “dancing/in their own fountain” at the end, still “hip” in the face of humiliation. I really do enjoy such a funny twist in a poem.



If you enjoyed this sample collection of poems, you may purchase a copy of some misplaced joan of arc on-line at Propaganda Press’ Catalog for $5.00 + $2 US Shipping or $3 Out-of-US Shipping at:

http://alt-current.com/pp/pp_item.html#some_misplaced_joan_of_arc

You may also mail your request for this chapbook along with payment (via check or money order) to:

Alternating Current
PO Box 398058
Cambridge, MA 02139

Please also visit the web-site to learn more about this small press and the poets they publish at:

http://alt-current.com/


Thanks always for reading, please click in tomorrow for more Poems Found by Poet Hound…

Writer's Digest

While this site encompasses all genres of writing you can find relevant articles related to writing poetry, finding markets to publish, and brainstorming ideas. Check it out at:

http://www.writersdigest.com/GeneralMenu/

Thanks for clicking in, please drop by tomorrow for another featured poet…

Poetry Tips: Picking Flowers

We’ve finally had a break from colder-than-usual weather and now the birds are chirping and all of the plants look ready to produce blooms. This week I want you to envision Spring and everything in bloom. Write poems about childhood days of picking flowers for your mother, planting gardens, etc. Anything that brings about fond memories of Spring!

Good luck to all who try it, please stop in next week for another featured site…

Autumn Sky Open Submissions

You may send up to four free-verse poems, simultaneous submissions are accepted so long as you provide notification. Please paste the poems into the body of the e-mail and please include a brief bio as well. You may e-mail your poems to: autumnskypoetryeditorATgmailDOTcom and be sure to place the word “Submission” in the subject line.

For more details go to:
http://www.autumnskypoetry.com/archive/Submission_Guidelines.html

Good luck to all who submit, please drop in tomorrow for more Poetry Tips…

Poems Found by Poet Hound

http://juked.com/2010/02/whitechickens.asp
“White Chickens” by Caroline Manring

http://www.alicebluereview.org/main.html
Julia Cohen’s “I’m Asking For A Little Murmur” and “Panic At My Wilderness”


Also, some news for those who didn’t know (like myself): The poet, Ai, passed away on March 17th and Jerry Williams was kind enough to send me a link to his tribute to her:
http://blog.bestamericanpoetry.com/the_best_american_poetry/2010/03/in-memoriam-to-ai-1947-2010-by-jerry-wiliams-.html


Thanks for clicking in, please drop in tomorrow for more Open Submissions…

Divertimiento by Julian Gallo

Julian Gallo’s collection of poems in Divertimiento detail interpersonal relationships and the less savory moments of encountering old flames, friends, and even strangers.

Cracks In The Paint

Will you be there for me
when the sun disappears behind
tenement water towers;
when the moon sneaks out quietly
from behind factory windows;
when the street lamps ignite over slick,
glistening streets;

Will you be there for me
when pimps release the whores for
nocturnal bliss;
when the nuts and wackos comb
cardboard tenements for smack
and a kiss from dirty chapped lips;
when the dogs pick through the trash,
eyes looking straight
into the urban abyss?

Will you be there for me
when the sun reappears to shine upon
the carnage you leave in your wake?

For I am still waiting,
huddled in the doorway
counting the cracks in the paint

one less button on my coat
one less beat of my heart.

Most poems asking the universal question of emotion “Will you be there for me?” often use much more sentimental imagery often paired with hope. Here, Mr. Gallo takes a twist in using imagery from the grittier sides of life, “nuts and wackos,” and “pimps” who release “whores” while the person in question is described as leaving carnage in their wake. It makes me wonder about the character of the person he is hoping will be there when it is his turn and the imagery leads me to believe that the person will not be there when the time comes.



Auteur

Narcissism in overdrive—
amazing the lengths some people
will go to make absolutely certain that
things, people & events
will completely revolve around
themselves.
You are merely a prop
in a film
they are making that
no one is
watching…

I share this poem because we can all relate to such people. Plainly spoken, Mr. Gallo points out that whoever you are, no one is watching you as closely or cares as much as you do about your life. Frankly, it’s a poem I’d like to leave lying around for certain other people to find, how about you?



A Sort of Mirage

Shadows in ink.
On such evenings I’m
too tired to applaud the maestro
but a fresh mate’ soothes nevertheless.
War has not been declared
and there is not one fraction
of my life left behind.
There are lots of commas
and etceteras lying about the hallway
waiting to be used, waiting to be set
free
to dance across the page.
They seem to comfort each other
after these outbursts;
a sort of mirage
these words I cannot grasp


I like the idea of “lots of commas/and etceteras lying about the hallway” as though all that is unsaid is hanging in the air waiting to land as words on the page. I like the imagery in this poem and the message that all that could be said has not yet been officially declared. I think that is what most writing is: That which is officially declared.



If you enjoyed this sample of poems, you may purchase Divertimiento for $3 (plus $2 US shipping or $3 out-of-US shipping) from Alternating Current (alt-current.com). You can also mail payment to:

Alternating Current
PO Box 398058
Cambridge, MA 02139

Remember that Alternating Current is one of the few presses where poets can be paid for their work so please support the small press!

Thanks always for reading, please stop by tomorrow for more Poems Found by Poet Hound…

Kaleidowhirl site

This is an on-line literary journal with links to poems, all of them wonderful! Please check it out at:

http://home.windstream.net/ellablue/

Thanks for clicking in, please drop in tomorrow for another featured poet…

Poetry Tips: Empty

This week I couldn’t think of anything for poetry tips and came up empty so I’m using the word as inspiration. Write poems about empty items—cups, boxes, homes, or the feeling of emptiness over missing someone, anything that comes to mind with the word “empty.”

Good luck to all who try it! Please drop by next Monday for another featured site…

5 X 5 Open Submissions

You may send up to five short poems by June 1st for the themed issue “SELF” (simultaneous submissions are accepted) via e-mail to poetryAT5X5litmagDOTorg
For more details go to:
http://www.5x5litmag.org/Submit.html

Good luck to all who submit, please check in tomorrow for more Poetry Tips…

Poems Found By Poet Hound

http://poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/20038
“Envoy” by Robert L Stevenson

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=17607
“Scenes of Childhood” by James Merrill

Thanks for clicking in, please stop by tomorrow for more Poetry Tips….

Befallen by K. Alma Peterson

Befallen is a collection of poems that spin off from their creator, K. Alma Peterson, and evolve into new creatures, some exciting, some unnerving. A graduate from the MFA Program for writers at Warren Wilson College, K. Alma Peterson’s poems have appeared in journals such as Hayden’s Ferry Review, Skidrow Penthouse, and Wicked Alice, to name a few. Her poem “Between Us” was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 1999. Below is a small sample from her collection, Befallen, published by Alternating Current:


Lost Poem

An insect insinuates the pleural wall rests a fraction
in the laurelled chamber of goldenrod stalk

a swelling in the stem how did you in your final silence
part the June and Needle grasses find the strap and lever
up the rubric door one hinge broken

your zippered leather pouch a sac of sorts
contains a crow call and a grainy field photo

duly referencing the gall an only chance to fumble
then fly forth


Turning a lost poem into a meandering insect is an interesting idea and evolves as the insect is personified in carrying odds and ends in a sac. The line breaks are interesting, as though the regular lines were separated with space rather than punctuation, that’s how I came to read it.



Acher With Grub and Earworm

Ingrained and firm the summer platitudes begin to rattle in
October’s broadleaved sheaves bring tasseled girls in early
from straight furrows their platinum silks dyed a bristled
horsetail brown they shiver pleasant rumors through maize
and up sleeves of crowpecked men wadded up in cornices
thumping tables for the milkweed to come mingle full sun my
eye introduce me to a purple thistle too pretty to do prickle
yet look away past ruts of crib and silo to lady slippers of hip
bible belts where late rains saunter in winter sobers enough
to muck and clot as they pick so shall they sell us roadside to
passerby in plaids who peel back our paper collars examine
for conformity our kernels gleaned by rote curled and rotting

I really enjoyed this poem/prose piece. It seems a little of both to me and I love the imagery, I immediately think of corn fields in Indiana. I see farmer’s daughters and wives picking the corn while gossiping “they shiver pleasant rumors through maize” and then the “crowpicked men” waiting for supper by thumping the tables. Finally, you realize that the poem has evolved so that “we” become the corn: “so shall they sell us roadside to/passerby n plaids who peel back our paper collars.” It’s an endlessly fascinating transition that happens so fast you hardly notice it until you think about what you’ve just read. Very clever indeed!



The Squid Reconsiders Its Approach

Inking up the ocean I advance dagger-eyed on a jet of
self-propulsion
head-footed and a pulse forgetful I entertain a
fondness for the snail
squeezed and bearing up its whorled frame only a truss
embedded deep and out of mind remains of mine

I speak for all mollusks less advanced the grim calm
pried hard
would ask the knobbed whelk why the false mouth

your muscled foot will overbear you have a crude
tool to grate
on my resolve goad my flesh for weakness my
abductors
revealed doubly tender once my ropy ligaments relax

Maybe it’s the loose clasp of an inconspicuous hinge or
the symmetry
of simple bivalves that compels a predator to have at
them
as do the lightning and the frilly dogwhelk jag and
dollop

I like this poem quite a bit, too. A squid personified who then in turn personifies the mollusks. Here is another poem that evolves in a way that seems independent of the poet.


If you enjoyed this short sample of poems by K. Alma Peterson, you may purchase a copy of Befallen for $7 (plus $2 US Shipping or $3 out-of-US shipping) via check, cash, or money order by mail at:
Alternating Current
PO Box 398058
Cambridge, MA 02139

Or you may purchase a copy on-line at:
http://alternating-current-weekly.blogspot.com/

Thanks always for reading, please drop in tomorrow for more Poems Found by Poet Hound…

Jeffrey Bahr Site

Mr. Bahr has compiled lots of useful information on submissions and journal response times, resources, the works! Check it out at:

http://www.jefferybahr.com/

Thanks for clicking in, please drop in tomorrow for another featured poet…