“Devastation” Published at Headline Poetry Today

Happy to have a poem published today (“Devastation”) at Headline Poetry.

The history of the poem arises from when I taught ELL years ago.  It was around 2002.  I taught with a colleague who was a refugee from Sarajevo. She survived the siege–and the stories she told still haunt me.

saravejo siege

Thanks to the editors at Headline Poetry.

 

Photo credit: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

The Destructive Age of Urban Warfare; or, How to Kill a City and How to Protect It

John Spencer | March 28, 2019

 

 

 

 

Poets? About Frontier Poetry: poetry contest and submissions

poetry        Frontier Poetry is accepting poetry

for a Summer Poetry Award and poetry for General Submissions.

What is Frontier looking for?  It’s refreshing that Frontier specifically tells poets.  In their words:

As a home for emerging authors & established voices together, we are looking for poems that express both traditional excellence in craft and a willing fearlessness in content and form. For us, the frontier of poetry is a place where voices—of all colors, ages, orientations, identities— are made equal by a shared belief in the power of language to confront the dark, the vast, the unexplored.

For further tips, you can look here: What We Look for at Frontier.

In other words, this is a literary press that tells you what they want, offers poets free submissions as well as reading fees for contests.  It has it all, it has a vision, and it is exciting to read there.

Good luck!

And thanks for reading.

Found Poem (on old flash drive)

C5438C4D-7EFC-4B03-8398-D253E9D9DDE8  What a pleasure to find an old rough draft of a poem on an old flash drive.  I was looking for a document when I found this, simply titled: “Work on this poem.”

So I will work on this poem.  I’m not sure about the rhetorical questions or who the “you” in the poem is, but I like a bit of mystery.

It starts like this…

Mud-crusted rags
wrap blistered feet.
Earthbound, I walk
beneath topsoil.
How would I drive?

Bridges stop around curves,
hidden in the fog or dust
a glimpse of surprised faces
before plunging
into the wide river of our poetry.
Where could I drive?

 

Then it goes on, but I won’t post more since I want to revise and rework to submit.

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Thanks for reading.