Poetry Tips: No Holiday Blues

This is a month where there are no three day weekends, same with October. This week I want you to write about the “No Holiday Blues”, think of the long stretches of working without a break, of no holidays with loved ones to share with, and lament. As you can tell, I am more than ready for a break, so I imagine you might be, too. Join me in writing about not having a holiday this month!

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

34th Parallel Open Submissions

You may e-mail one poem up to 3500 words to this magazine either by pasting it into the e-mail or attaching as a word document. You will also need to provide a cover letter! Be sure your contact information is on it. In the subject line of your e-mail include “Poetry Submission” in the heading and send it to: submissionsAT34thparallelDOTnet

For more details, go to:
http://www.34thparallel.net/submit.html

Good luck to all who submit, please drop by tomorrow for more poetry tips…

Poems Found by Poet Hound

https://sites.google.com/site/rhpchaphoshomccreesh/no-seething-want
“No Seething Want, No Treacherous Ambition” by Hosho McCreesh

http://poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/21784
“Refusing, at Fifty-Two, to Write Sonnets” by Thomas Lynch

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

Unusually Busy

I’ll be doing wed-Friday posts this week thank to unusually busy weekends, but will return back to full schedule posting after these next two weeks so please continue to drop in…

Poetry Tips: Perseverance

There are times when all poets feel as though the well has run dry or that they just can’t get anyone to accept their poems. In those times you must persevere and continue on. Making a routine of writing helps, as does acknowledging the odds of your poem being accepted among hundreds of other contenders. This week take the time to persevere through any pitfalls, even a poem that is giving you trouble. Perseverance pays off in the end, as many wise people say: “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.” Write poems about the heroes you know who have persevered when you are stuck and the dark clouds just might lift…

Good luck to all who continue to persevere, please drop in again next week…

Nerve Cowboy Open Submissions

Straight from the site:

NERVE COWBOY is always looking for the kind of writers who just seem to know what word comes next. We also like to feature drawings and illustrations by artists who see things a little differently. Send poems, short-short stories (up to 5 pages) and black & white art along with a SASE (self-addressed stamped envelope) to:
Joseph Shields and Jerry Hagins, Editors
Nerve Cowboy
PO Box 4973
Austin, Texas 78765
Please also look at their web-site for further details by going to:
http://jwhagins.com/submission.html

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

Poems Found by Poet Hound

http://www.sundresspublications.com/wickedalice/gendron30.html
“GhostPatriotHusband” by Erin Gendron

https://sites.google.com/site/rhpissue34/howie-good-1
“Meditations on a Candle Flame” by Howie Good

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

Nerve Cowboy Spring Issue #29

Yes, this issue was delivered late but it was worth the wait! There are some edgy poems and some powerful ones—especially by Burn Thompson. The artwork inside is always paired with just the right poems and I am happy to share a small sample with you:

Snack
By James Valvis

My daughter asks me for a snack.
She wants chocolate chip cookies.
It’s after lunch, before dinner, so I say no,
but I can see the hurt sting her eyes,
a flash of tears that lately come on
suddenly like all her other emotions.
She’s hungry. She’s always hungry.
This past year she’s put on weight.
Her belly sticks out, her legs are flabby.
Her cheek dimple has smoothed over.
It’s embarrassing, she says, her new shirt
too tight, and as I ponder if she’ll need
a training bra at nine years old,
she wonders if boys will ever like her.
At dinner most nights she eats like me,
a heavyset man with a big appetite.
Dishing it out, I pause mid-spoonful
and wonder if I’m adding too much.
I remember how my parents, to keep
my sister from eating, chained the fridge
around the handles and padlocked it.
She still topped 400 before stapling
her stomach and spending the next year
eating nothing but thin mashed potatoes.
I tell my daughter to come sit on my lap.
She does and her weight is suffocating.
It was barely days ago, practically hours,
that I bounced her around on my shoulders
and flung her in the air like a tennis ball.
Now she’s nearly too big to fit on my lap.
What a harsh job parenting is sometimes.
Sorry, kid, I tell her in my mind.
No cookies for you this afternoon.
I’ve nothing sweeter to offer than a hug.

My heart goes out to the father and the daughter in this poem. The heartbreak of the father watching the pounds accumulate along with the realization that he may be contributing through snacks or extra helpings at dinner is palpable. The end shows that the father offers instead of sweets, love through a hug, and brings kindness in the closing of the poem. I’m left with a sense of hope that the father will do what is best in the kindest of ways to help his daughter become healthier, it is a touching poem.



In Alaska And Homeless
By Burn Thompson

Coming here all my poetry lost
and most all else- missed my poems most as if struggling up
mountain crests- missed so much the story a long poem
of mine tells. Spent a year in a homeless shelter-
never missed the rest. My past calling, I heard faint church bells
ringing- didn’t answer. In a corner Tlingits-

beads stringing. Moved out. Camping on the city fringe,
my things people stole. Still there’s kindness-
given a snowsuit with new tags. Sleeping bag gone, my tarp
around me I roll. I sleep cold- lose weight-
see my coat on me sag. Without paper walked streets composing
lines of verse. For my memory’s sake, I keep my lines terse.

This is one of two poems Mr. Thompson wrote about being homeless and I picked this one because despite the hardships he is still composing and creating verses. The will of survival and the will to create are strong in his lines above and incredibly moving to me.



A Flight Attendant’s Lament
By Lori Jakiela

They told me I was going to Paris
so why am I stuck in Atlanta, Georgia
in a tiki hut on Bobbie Brown Boulevard
eating crab legs out of a dented bucket?
A guy in a blue Hawaiian shirt
loads the jukebox with a $20
and plays Jimmy Buffett’s “Why Don’t We
Get Drunk and Screw”
over and over and over
then sends me a beer with a note that says, “Smile.”
I raise the beer to say thanks, hold a crab leg up
in a salute, then ask the bartender for a pen.
Somewhere there’s an ocean.
Somewhere beauty’s waiting.
On the note, I write back,
“I am smiling.
Sincerely,
Mona Lisa.”

I like the sass of this poet, and I think it’s a nice change of pace from the previous two for today’s feature. This poet dead-pans her experience as a flight attendant stuck in Atlanta (and I, for one, hate being stuck in Atlanta’s airport, though Atlanta itself is nice), so I could not help including it in this sample. The ending is funny and clever, thank you, Lori Jakiela.


If you enjoyed this sample and would like to learn more about Nerve Cowboy and/or find out about subscribing, visit their website below:
http://www.jwhagins.com/nervecowboy.html

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

The Book of Kells

Kelli Russell Agodon is a writer and editor in the Pacific Northwest who hosts this blog full of advice, real life experiences in writing and learning, and so much more. Check it out at:

http://ofkells.blogspot.com/

Thanks for clicking in, please stop by tomorrow for a featured journal…

Poetry Tips: The Wee Hours

Lately I’ve been waking up in the wee hours of the morning thanks to a variety of events including nightmares, pets, barking dogs, loud neighbors, etc. It inspired me to get up, stretch, and type out a few poetic tirades on the interruptions. This week, write about your own experience with the wee hours of the morning—do you sleep right through them and therefore the goings-on outside are a mystery? Are you an early riser who enjoys the first peak at dawn? Either way, there’s a whole world moving while most of us are still sleeping.

Good luck to all who try it, please stop by next week…

Rattle Open Submissions

Rattle is open year-round and often has tribute issues if you take a look at their web-site, see the link below. Otherwise, you may send up to six poems, your contact information must appear on each page, and you may e-mail them to submissionsATrattleDOTcom.
http://www.rattle.com/submissions.htm

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

Poems Found by Poet Hound

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=177976
“The Appalachian Book of the Dead” by Charles Wright

http://www.juked.com/2010/07/deadpeople.asp
“I’m Not Here to Look at Dead People,” by Arlene Ang

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

Jim Murdoch's This Is Not About What You Think

Jim Murdoch is a novelist and poet whose latest collection of poems, This Is Not About What You Think, begs you to take a closer look at not only his own poems but all poems. Published by fvbooks.com in July, this collection will allow your own thoughts and experiences to flow through his words so that while the collection may not tell a complete story it will allow you to build your own through reading. Below I am happy to share a few poems:

Advice to Children

People will fail you.
It's a fact of life —
they'll let you down.

But not always.
And that's the worst of it —
sometimes they don't.

But most times it's hard to tell.

I think this poem tells it like it is, don’t you? The people you think you can count on fail to and the people you don’t think you can count on turn out to be dependable. Isn’t that the way life is?



Father Figure

This is the floor beside my bed
where I kneel to talk to God.
If I press my ear to the floor.
I can hear Him talk to Mum.
About me. It is always me.

I know what God looks like.
He looks just like my dad.
I heard him tell my mum:
"In this house I am God."
I heard that through the floor.

Now I only pretend to pray
because I don't want my dad
to really hear the things I think.
Now he's not sure I'm so bad.
I don't want him to know I am.

I just want my dad to love me.

I can picture a child writing this poem and it definitely tugs at the heartstrings. It is something I think a majority of us can relate to, feeling that a parent is larger than life, larger than God, and the feeling of wanting to please that parent more than God.



True Love II

My father had a heart transplant.
Years ago, before I was born,
doctors took
out his broken heart

and gave him a machine instead.
The strange thing about this machine
was it was
powered by sadness.

Of course he was always just Dad,
but, when I discovered the truth,
at first I
hated the sadness

then I became thankful for it
because as long as I could see
him be sad
he would be with me.

And so I made it my job to
make him the saddest dad in the
whole wide world.
What else could I do?

This is another poem that lends itself to a child’s perspective. Love, sadness, and thoughtfulness are intertwined in the complicated relationship of parents to children. However, this poem can also expand outward to a myriad of relationships between people, relationships fueled by dysfunction or sadness fueled by mutual tragedies. In a way, this poem could be a children’s book given the right illustrator, and that is what I picture with this poem.


If you enjoyed this short sample, you can read more poems at:
http://www.jimmurdoch.co.uk/think_excerpt.html


To purchase a copy of This Is Not About What You Think for yourself for 5.99 Pounds from the UK, visit the Fandango Virtual site at:
http://www.fvbooks.com/jmurdoch/jmurdoch4.htm


To learn more about Jim Murdoch and his writing, visit his The Truth About Lies blog at:
http://jim-murdoch.blogspot.com/


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

Tiny Words

Find Haiku and micropoetry daily at this delightful and eye-pleasing blog by checking out the link below:

http://tinywords.com/

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

Poetry Tips: Wreckage

This writing prompt comes from personal experience with a fender bender. This week write poems inspired by “wrecks” whether they be physical, emotional, mental, or both. For me, it was physical, for you it may be something else. Good luck to all who try it!

Thank you for dropping by, please stop by again next week…