Poetry Tips: Old Fashioned Love Song

Yes, I was listening to the radio when exactly this song came on. This week see if you can write an old-fashioned love poem, it may just turn into a song you can sing to your loved one!

Good luck to all who try it, please drop in again next week…

Black Warrior Review Open Submissions

Straight from the site:

"We have moved to an online submission system, which can be found at http://bwrsubmissions.ua.edu.

SPECIAL NOTE: Poetry and Nonfiction are STILL OPEN for both regular and contest submissions. Please visit the submission manager to submit.
Snail mail submissions were officially closed as of 4/25/2010. Any snail mail submissions we receive will now be recycled. Please take note.

We read submissions year-round, though our response time is slower in the summer. Please submit only once every six months. The average response time for submissions is between 2 and 4 months. If you have not received a response after 4 months (excepting the summer), send a query and SASE through the mail, or email us at blackwarriorreview@gmail.com, and we'll check on the status of your submission.
In addition to poetry and fiction, Black Warrior Review is also seeking creative nonfiction that experiments, plays, and throws the occasional snowball in our faces. We call for essays that offer up a new perspective, an unvoiced thought, an overlooked association—and we hope that you will send us pieces that not only challenge us with their content, but also with their form. We prize the lyric and the language driven, both the sparsely stated and the indulgently ruminative.

Please do not mix genres in the same submission.

We do NOT accept unsolicited e-mail submissions, nor do we consider previously published work.
We encourage you to read Black Warrior Review before submitting. Sample issues are available for $10; one-year subscriptions for $16.

Simultaneous submissions are fine, if noted (please notify us immediately if the work is accepted somewhere else)."

Check out the site listed above and good luck to all who submit…

Poems Found by Poet Hound

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=29826
“Tomorrow” by Dennis O’Driscoll

http://www.righthandpointing.com/Issue15/kevin-above.htm
“From Above” by Kevin McLellan

Thanks for clicking in, please drop by tomorrow for more open submissions…

Ed Galing's Diner

Diner is a collection of poems by Ed Galing, published by Alternating Current’s Propaganda Press in 1999 about…Diners! Of course! It is a wonderful homage to all the diners Mr. Galing (and you and I, for that matter) have eaten in across American. Below are a few of my favorites:


those who work in
diners

in the front,
and in the back,
somehow never get
enough credit
for the great job
they do…

that big fat cook
who works the kitchen grill,
hot steam rolling down
his face,
slapping orders together
like a machine,
no letup…

the dishwasher,
the dirtiest job
in the place,
(and i know)
my hat is off to you…

the cashier,
the waitresses…

and last week,
joe the cook,
and mary the blonde waitress,
got married, in the diner,
closed for the day, they hired
a preacher, invited everyone to their
diner wedding,
decorated with flowers,
wine flowed, people cheered,

they kissed each other…now married…
went back to work the next day.


Not only is this a poem where Mr. Galing acknowledges the roles of the diners but he captures briefly the wonderful event in anyone’s life by adding in the wedding of two of the workers. I think what I love best is that he ends it with the couple returning to work the very next day—my parents went through the same thing (only Dad worked in a factory and Mom worked at the local burger joint). Here Mr. Galing portrays diner life exactly as it is, no more, no less, no romanticizing, no embellishment, just like a no-frills diner.




counter work

i like sitting
at the counter
in my diner

grab a quick
lonely cupa
coffee and Danish

read the paper
and rub elbows
with the big fat guy
next to me,
on one side,
and the little thin
bald headed guy on the other,
who asks me to pass him the sugar…
it’s easy to make friends
at the counter,
when you’re by yourself,
or in a hurry…
the counter is for the
brave ones,
like myself,
trying to catch a waitress’
eye,
as they flit by…
that’s the hard part.
but hell, what’s the hurry
anyway?

Mr. Galing says exactly what I’ve always thought about the counter: It’s for the “brave ones,” the people who are typically their alone, braving a seat next to the unknown folks at the counter. I like the picture he paints of who sits there and the difficulty of capturing the eye of the ever-busy waitress, the hustle and bustle you’d expect while you sit “alone” at the counter making new friends.



cashier

i hear the rumor
this morning
when i walk into
this diner

where i eat
all the time

mary the cashier
has died…

worked the front
for twenty five
years

always pleasant
gave you a cheery
hello and goodbye

if you got to know
mary the way i
did,
you got to like her
a lot…
knew all about her family,
her two sons and her
daughter,

how she worked the 11 to 7 shift
so she could be
home during the day

mary is gone
mary has left the diner
to serve at
the table in heaven

hope God knows
how lucky he is.

I love this poem because it’s one most can relate to—most of us frequent a restaurant or diner and have a favorite waiter or waitress we’ve come to rely on each visit, one we’ve gotten to know and make part of our lives even if it’s in a small way. I also love the ending, that mary is now working in Heaven’s Diner, serving God, which is an idea that brings a smile to my face. Mr. Galing allows himself to be sentimental, as well he should be, in dedicating a poem to a favorite diner worker who has passed away.



If you enjoyed this short sample of poems as much as I have you can purchase a copy of Diner for yourself for $5.00 (not including Shipping & Handling) through the Propaganda Press Catalog at:

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



You can find more of Ed Galing’s work at
http://Alt-current.com



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

Barefeet and Long Nightgowns

Beautiful short poems by Jessica Thompson can be found below at:

http://barefeetandnightgowns.wordpress.com/

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

Poetry Tips: Crime Rhyme

This week I want you to look at local headlines and find an unusual crime and see if you can make a rhyming poem out of it. In addition to illustrating the details of the crime you have the added effort of rhyme and most likely rhythm, but it is a fun challenge for me and I hope it is for you as well.

Good luck to all who try it, please drop in again next week…

Blue Collar Open Submissions

You may send up to 5 poems and include a Self-addressed stamped envelope when mailing to:

Blue Collar Review P.O. Box 11417 Norfolk, VA 23517
For further details, go to:

http://www.angelfire.com/va/bcr/Guidelines.html

Good luck to all who submit, please drop in again tomorrow…

Poems Found by Poet Hound

http://www.juked.com/2010/06/crossexamination.asp
“Katherine: Cross Examination,” by Mark Neely

http://poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/21538
“Detail of My Sort of Light,” by Ander Monson

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

Lilliput Review Issue #173

The poems collected in the latest issue of Lilliput Review speak of falling leaves, sunlight, hope and despair. For some reason, the poems that lend themselves towards darker feelings are the ones that inspired me and so I share a few with you:


even in daylight, these shadows find me

by: Constance Campbell of Austin, TX

I admire one-line poems and this one leaves any reader the imagination to decide upon what kind of shadows Ms. Campbell speaks of. For me, it is the lingering memories of sad times despite the outdoor sunshine. For you it may simply be that the trees offer shade amongst the cloudless blue skies.



the solution wasn’t
obvious to begin with
trapeze bars swinging
abandoned a lion
crying in the dark
of his cage

by: J.M. Hall of Nashville, TN

For some, the circus is a joyous and entertaining experience but for this poet there is painted a darker picture. Personally, I picture empty trapeze bars due to a tragic fall, the lion mourning its trainer. What do you picture?



Drove by this farmhouse
where someone had taken a crow
and hung it upside down
dead and dangling
upon a pole
right in the middle
of the garden—

healthy stalks
bending
toward the light.

By: Charlie Mehrhoff of Oakland, ME

I have to say, I’ve always liked Mr. Mehrhoff’s poems. This one’s imagery appears daunting yet even though the dead crow may be there to warn off other garden pests the garden is portrayed and healthy and growing at the end. An interesting juxtaposition of life and death, don’t you think?


If you enjoyed this collection you will also be pleased to know that each issue is only $1.00 and if you’d like to find out more about Lilliput Review please check out the official web-site at:

http://sites.google.com/site/lilliputreview/home

You can also visit the editor, Don Wentworth’s, blog at:

http://lilliputreview.blogspot.com/

Thanks always for reading, please drop in again tomorrow for more Open Submissions…

The Good Typist

Aesthetically pleasing, intriguing and fun to read, check out Kristin McHenry’s blog at:

http://thegoodtypist.blogspot.com/

Thanks for dropping in, please stop by tomorrow…

Poetry Tips: Heat Wave

I don’t know about you, but heat and humidity have been nearly insufferable here in Florida. This week is about poems regarding the hot summer weather, too hot? Not hot enough? Just right? Wherever you are, take your inspiration from the temperature!

Good luck to all who try it, please drop in again next week….

Anderbo Open Submissions

Straight from the source:
Poetry - submit up to 6 poems

Send submissions to editors@anderbo.com

A submission may be sent in the body of an e-mail and/or as an attachment in any common file format such as doc or rtf. Mac users, please be sure that your doc files are readable by PCs. No docx files, ever. And please, only one story per submission. Poets, we require your poems to be in the e-mail, or together as a single attachment. Simultaneous submissions OK with notification. If you don't hear from us within a month, let us know.



http://www.anderbo.com/guidelines.html

Good luck to all who submit, please stop in tomorrow…

Poems Found by Poet Hound

http://www.rattle.com/eissues/eIssue8.pdf
Page 5, Mike White’s “Nascar”

http://poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/21532
Medbh McGuckian’s “Painting By Moonlight”

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

Ed Galing's Lower East Side Poems

Ed Galing was born in New York City in 1917 on the lower east side, hence the inspiration for this collection of poems. While being widely published in magazines and small press venues he also enjoys playing harmonica. Lower East Side Poems was published in 2008 by Propaganda Press and Ibbetson Street Press, respectively. This collection is dead-pan and delightful to read. He speaks of childhood and also what it is like to be 90-odd years old, and I have to admit it is going to be difficult to narrow it down to just a few poems to share with you all but I will do my best:


Tantzen

My mother used to say
“Ich gay tantzen.”
(I am going dancing)
In the Jewish
idiom
it sounds so
honey clear,
“tantzen”
“tantzen”
“ich gay tantzen”
dancing,
dancing,
I am going
dancing,
all my life
it seems as if
I have always
been dancing,
sometimes a
slow waltz,
other times a tango,
sometimes i Fox Trot
and when my
wife and I were
young,
together we
did the Jitterbug,
“Ich gay tantzen,
mother.”
Look at me
in my old age
my wife has
departed before
me,
my tears spill on
my pillow each night,
where has everyone
gone?
“ich gay tantzen.”
“ich gay tantzen.”


This is a poem that not only tugs at the heartstrings but it allows the reader to paint a picture of Mr. Galing’s life from generation to generation of family who love to dance together and the loneliness of his best partner now departed. Simply put, this one shot an arrow through my own heart.



Day’s Work

if my father taught
me anything
it was how to exist
where existence
was hard to do.
and where every
breath of air
in our lower
east side building
was filled with
the acrid odor
of rotten vegetables
that most of us
tenants ate, when
we could afford
to buy the left-
overs, from the
pushcarts on orchard
street
oh, the rabble, oh
the stench,
oh the jostling
and pushing of
so many of us
as we walked along
pavements so crowded
that we had to almost
walk out into the middle
of the street…
my father made life
as endurable as possible,
by wearing the same clothes
all year round, and when they
tore,
his needle and thread would mend them,
he ate little, mostly potatoes,
which gave him that round little
belly, and portly gait,
and he busied himself around
the apartment we had,
my mother in the kitchen,
making food on the coal stove,
learning how to squeeze beets
to make borscht,
and me in my six year old wisdom,
learning how to steal an
occasional apple from the
pushcart outside…
all in a day’s work in
those days.

What I love about this poem is that it is conversational in style. I can hear Mr. Galing’s voice telling the story as naturally as any storyteller would only it happens to be in the form of a poem. The content is eye-opening in that a child would have to steal to fill his belly and to have a father that did his best to provide but could barely do so. It’s a wonderfully told story.


The Warehouse

this is my first day in
this nursing home,
my son said, dad,
this is the best place
for you right now,
yeah, sure it is…
just because i had a
small stroke at eighty
he puts me in here…
well, i can’t blame him,
he is sixty himself,
works night and day,
he can’t take care of
me, especially now…
dad, he says, soon as
you get better, you
can come home with my
wife and me
yeah, crap too… it will
never happen…
anyway, now that i am here
in a wheelchair, i have a
roommate next bed, a big
black guy who snores all
the time,
and the hallways are full
of screaming alzheimer
people, and broken down men
and women who each live in
their own hell… i call it a
warehouse for old people,
before we di…
once you get in here you
don’t come out…
(they say the food
ain’t bad here…)

I was an Activities Director of a long-term care facility (fancy way of saying nursing home) once upon a time and many of the residents expressed exactly what Mr. Galing says here, and his experience with his son is one I saw repeated often. I knew I had to share this one with you all just so you may have a glimpse into such a life in such a place. His dead-pan perspective is right on the money to me, and it’s a poem I connected to personally and felt was worth everyone’s time to read.


Diner Blues

used to be
i would go to this diner
not far from my house
and have a
lunch or breakfast
and my wife
would be sitting
across from me
and it felt good
just lie it
should be when
you got some
buddy with you
to enjoy life
like it should be,
but just when you
get to know what
it’s all about,
it’s over
kids gone
wife gone
you wonder why
you are still here.

so now i sit alone
and watch the
young couple in
another booth
she smiles
her eyes are gray
i can see them
because i am right
in back of them
and she is facing me
and looking at me…

i feel like crying
i want to make love to her
i drink my coffee
and keep my thoughts
to myself.

This poem is also another that tugs at my emotions. As Mr. Galing remembers with longing he also sees his past being relived in a younger couple and in his wistfulness also feels a familiar attraction to the young woman. It’s a well-done natural transition from longing for his wife to the feelings brought about by the young couple and then to the woman.

There are about a half dozen more poems I would love to share with you but you ought to know that Mr. Galing also has a blog with more of his poems which you can find here:
http://edgaling.blogspot.com/


Also, if I shared too many poems, you would not be as inspired to acquire a copy of this poignant collection for yourself. To purchase a copy of Lower East Side Poems for a mere $5.00 (not including shipping and handling), go to:

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

I hope you’ve enjoyed these as much as I have, thanks for reading and please check in tomorrow…

A Voice Box

This amazing site has a variety of poets whose work you can listen to from the Bay area, check it out at:

http://andrewkenower.typepad.com/a_voice_box/

Thanks for clicking in, please drop in again…