She had returned from the sun when I visited her smile embraced us welcome as the warmth of the sofa, where we sat together, her restraint soaked the air stifling our words. Suddenly her eyes fille…
Source: Convergence of Healing
Category: https://www.facebook.com/carolyn.oconnell
Where to Submit in November by Entropy–an online literary community
Entropy is a “website featuring literary & non-literary content. A website that seeks to engage with the literary community, that becomes its own community, and creates a space for literary & non-literary ideas.”
In October they posted an article on where to submit in October and November. Click here to read the complete article. Several of the October deadlines have past, but there are many listed with deadlines still to come. Some do have submission fees (though I tried to eliminate those over $5 if possible) and some are paying. Read all the guidelines carefully before submitting your work.
If you like this post, please share with your writerly friends and/or follow my blog or like my Facebook page.
The following listings from the article are still open, have no/low fees, and accept poetry submissions:
Presses:
BlazeVOX / Now / Poetry, Fiction
BOA Editions – A. Poulin, Jr. Poetry Prize / August 1 –…
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NEW TITLE: Letters I Never Sent To You by Paula Varjack
In her debut collection Paula Varjack explores a long and turbulent journey through nine years of travelling through countries, relationships and experiences. The collection is made up of both poetry and prose as Paula tries to wind her way through the constant change of each place she takes us to.
I don’t have a written interview today. Instead I’m very happy to introduce the brand new Burning Eye Podcast of which some of our blog interviews will now be conducted. The Podcast is one of two new media ventures that Burning Eye are experimenting with at the moment, I’m going to leave you wondering after the second for a little longer.
In the meantime, have a listen to my interview with Paula. We talk Edinburgh, editing and the move from performance to page:
Get Letters I Never Sent To You from our web shop today
About
Throughout history the lives of ordinary – and extraordinary – women have often been ignored, their voices not considered worthy of recording. This project aims to rediscov…
Source: About
INKSPILL 2015 COMING SOON – SAVE THE DATE
24th – 25th October
For the 3rd year running AWF is hosting INKSPILL, a free online writing retreat. Come and join us and our Guest Writers for a weekend of writing and motivation.
There is NO SIGN UP, NO FEE.
Just read the posts, share links to your work, comment and LIKE the posts.
AWF offers this retreat to you for FREE, in return all we ask is you LIKE, reblog or share our blog posts.
We have several Guest Writers this year – to be announced soon!
Spread the word! INKSPILL
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Convergence of Healing
She had returned from the sun when I visited her smile embraced us welcome as the warmth of the sofa, where we sat together, her restraint soaked the air stifling our words. Suddenly her eyes fille…
Source: Convergence of Healing
Two New Successes
Trish & Delma
Andy Doyles Retirement Party
Concert for Calais Refugees
Concert for Calais Refugees
Concert for Calais Refugees
Concer for Callais Refugees
Concer for Callais Refugees
I was commissioned to write the following poem to clelbrate the retirement of the Hall Manager at our local church, St. Thomas Aquinas, Ham, Richmond-on-Thames,Surrey England. It was an enjoyable occasion and the poem was well received and Andy the recipitent was very touched and wanted a copy.
His Last Mabon
for Andy Doyle
Archdruid of our church hall he’s plotted our Eisteddfods
harmonized receptions, art shows, dance groups, parties,
our saga of celebrations from Harvest to Patronal Feast,
he was the slate rising to incise bookings. “Speak to Andy”
the song inscribed on every shingle of notebooks
roofing the history of St. Thomas Aquinas, Ham.
Sure as Hafrin’s bore running the border from the sea
he swept floors, collected cups as women
flittered round his baton, bards to his Eisteddfod
of coffee mornings where the ballad of news
rang round lips and children grew to serve,
his teacher’s eye noted their progress, year on year.
But now slate shingles will open as Windows key strokes,
his slate split books no more inscribe
the calendar of bookings for our beloved hall.
Andy’s rising from the mine he’s worked –
you’ll find him perusing papers in our library.
Only on Sundays will he raise his sword of peace
still Archdruid of the coffee morning.
Carolyn O’Connell ©
September 16 2016
The following week 8 September 2016 I attened a Concert for Callis Refugees at St. Richards Church where my poem “Elegy to a Migrant Mother” previously published on “I am not a Silent Poet” was sung by Bo Sundstrom who had set it to music.
Elegy to a Migrant Mother
Growing up in days of conflict
you chose love across the divide,
defying custom, convention and
family allegiance, duties of a daughter.
Escaping to the enemy’s land
doors slammed in your face and
windows waved messages of hate
as you scrubbed strangers’ floors to survive,
mourning an un-suckled child.
Your Romeo rejected his father
accepting exclusion and followed
to find you in enemy territory,
safety in the land of rejection.
When war racked your new land
he fought with new comrades against
an enemy who sought to enslave again.
When peace returned together you
quietly built a new family, bridged the
divide between remnants of the old, and
visited the graves of parents, the homes
of long missed friends where old joys were
remembered, relived. You held your head
high as you walked the streets.
But you would never return to that land
your fate a migrant woman who keeps
secrets safe, silent about the voyage of the past.
Carolyn O’Connell©
Published I am not a silent poet 14/5/2015
‘The Data Quality Analyst’s Lot’ by Hilaire
The Minstrel – To last you a while
Keep Poems Alive is taking a holiday. This will be its last update until January 2017. I will leave you with a longish poem by James Beattie, a Scots writer 1735-1803 (so a rough contemporary of the Paisley poets featured here a few weeks back). He is not very well known, especially outside Scotland. Like his contemporary William Drummond he was writing in the classical or Latinate English manner often called ‘flowery’, whereas politically the need was for writing in Scots. That is the reason for his obscurity. None the less he was a fine poet and this longer poem ending in an elegy is one of his finest pieces. Another substantial poem by him has recently been discovered in Sir Walter Scott’s library at Abbotsford House but it has not yet been published.
One reason for my taking a break is that I will be judging the Robert Tannahill…
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A State Called Shock by Paul Griffiths
I watched as silence strangled opinion.
Just as madness ran amok.
Fear can grip you tight like a vice.
Lost in a state called shock.
I’ve seen reason fly out the window.
To proud to think it can’t fall.
I’ve witness good men turning evil.
Then lining their friends to the wall.
I listened as truth get all twisted.
Lost in the tangle of lies.
I have seen innocence stolen.
From out of the children’s eyes.
I’ve seen human rights ridden rough shod.
Then trampled beneath a Jackboot.
They say power corrupts absolutely.
When the first sign of dissension takes root.
I have seen one man move a nation
To make the masses rise up and applaud.
I witnessed governments toppled.
As tyrants now fall on the sword
I know I don’t have all the answers.
It’s not in my nature to preach.
So never let your opinion get strangled.
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Carolyn O' Connell 