Cover Design/ArtWork @2022 Experiments in Fiction/ Nick Reeves
Dear All,
Thank you for your submissions to the anthology Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women. I am privileged and honored to be your editor. Your poems and your talent brought me to tears.
Thank you to our publisher Ingrid Wilson, and toNick Reeves for the beautiful cover book. I am thrilled to work with Ingrid on this anthology.
Submissions are open until April 15. You can read the submissions guidelines here and find more info here.
You will receive a notification of acceptance or rejection in the beginning of May.
A Poem from Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings
Seduction by Gabriela Marie Milton
the rhythm of castanets awakens the moon on opal rings your kisses spin a cricket’s hitting a crescendo waves tattoo dark shadows on your skin sonority, you who vibrates the souls of those who haunt at night the Port of Cartagena
I toss in smells of apricots and plumes the Hand of Fatima takes off my veils your forehead sinks into the sweat of lovers who sever their veins oh, dream of the unknowns, you, latency, the sigh of blood which flows in spring both mud and flowers grow
didn’t you know that when you said I love you you stepped on roads of fables and folk tales? you glued your heart onto a purple sunset smells of lilac and of roses, impregnated strolls, seduction, it wasn’t me it was you who stole his soul
Updates/Clarifications on the Anthology Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women
The deadline for submission is April 15. You still have time to submit.
The copyright of the poems you submit is yours.
We do not accept simultaneous submissions.
We accept previously published poems.
You can submit regardless of the country you are located in.
You cannot submit if you are under 18 years of age.
With respect to the length of your poems, please follow the guidelines for submission. There are several poems that did not, and are exceptional. I decided to publish them. To make things fair, those of you who struggled to follow the guidelines for submission can now submit the third poem. Make sure your poem is no longer than 40 lines. Please label your submission: Third Poem Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women
You will receive a notification of acceptance/rejection in the beginning of May.
If you still have questions please use the comment section below.
“Dear Mama: An Immigrant’s Secret Cry” author Shailja Sharma, published by Pittsburgh-based Setu Publications, a merit-based, peer-reviewed publisher with a preface by Gabriela Marie Milton.
When Shailja sent me the manuscript of her book and asked me to write a preface I was sure I was not going to do it. I had too much work to do: too much research, too many responsibilities, too many hours helping various communities, including the poetry community. I definitely was not going to do it. That was valid before I opened the manuscript. The moment I opened it I could not put it down.
First, here is Shailja talking about her book:
“Dear Mama: An Immigrant’s Secret Cry” is a secret tear flowing from an immigrant’s heart. It’s the tear that is hidden from mama for many years while settling in a land away from home. It feels better when it finally flows. These poems depict lacks and memories, struggles and hardships, as well as hopes, promises, potential, and empowerment. Some of these pieces were recently published world-wide. Due to an excellent readership, the author was compelled to extend and compile this book.”
Below is my preface and the Amazon link where you can find the book.
In 2017, Jessica Traynor, wrote an opinion piece in The Irish Times entitled “James Joyce, the emigrant who left Dublin in body but not in mind.” The theme of immigration has been a constant presence in world literature. Most recently, contemporary novels such as Julie Otsuka’s The Buddha in the Attic, and Cristina Henriquez’s The Book of Unknown Americans excellently depict the challenges and struggles of immigrants.
Shailja Sharma (Ph.D.), a psychologist practicing in the USA, steps on the same roads with her beautiful poetry volume entitled Dear Mama: An Immigrant’s Secret Cry. The book reflects the trauma immigrants endure when settling in new lands. The opening poem screams alienation: “I missed telling you how much I missed you.”
In order for the new life to keep as least a semblance of past – a past where the familiar lies – the author tries to reproduce in her place of settlement Indian customs. Lines like: Hold your Deepak/Flaunt the sari, are representative. Shailja decries the lack of free-play, discrimination, prejudice, and longs for the smoothness and protection that once she felt at home.
Dear Mama: An Immigrant’s Secret Cry, stands apart not only because of the theme the author addresses – immigration being a major subject in multiple societies these days – but also by the power of its astonishing verse, the talent of its author, and the empowerment the author offers. In the pages of this book the reader will find poetry at its best. Shailja Sharma’s verses are the mirror in which immigrants can find themselves and, equally, the highest expression of poetic endeavor.
Here is a snippet from the book
There used to be a wall with a hook that anchored my belongings. Some wet memories have pickled over the years. It’s raining and my feet are running to the backyard to save grandmother’s pickle jars. I know it’s too late, but I continue to stand in prickly rain drops. My wounds are wet and I am shivering. I am crying for the concrete floor, on which, sat a folded towel holding her steaming pressure-cooker. I have lost that floor…
A Gentle Reminder – Please do not forget to submit to the anthology Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women.
You can find the call for submissions HERE. Please follow the guidelines for submissions. Poetry that does not follow the guidelines will not be taken in consideration.
I searched for love in the thrilling nights of the February carnival. Around me scavengers of night. I managed to look like Ophelia dressed in negligees & incapable of understanding my own distress.
An Update on the Anthology Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women
To those of you who already submitted a big thank you.
However, several submissions do not follow the guidelines for submissions. Poetry not submitted according to the guidelines will not be taken in consideration. So please follow the guidelines if you wish to submit or if you already submitted and you did not follow the guidelines please consider to revise and resubmit.
Submit your poems in a Word Document, together with a short bio. You should use Times New Roman 12, double space. No poem should be longer than one page. No bio should be longer than 400 characters.
Please title you submission Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women.
Example of email submission:
Dear Editor,
Attached please find my submission for Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women.
Best,
…..
The deadline for submission is April 15.
The plan is to have the anthology published at the end of May 2022.
Looking forward to your submissions.
Please let me know if you have any questions in the comments below.
Everyday I work to feature wonderful poetry written by my fellow poets. I will be most grateful if you can read and support these poets. Kindness, generosity, and supporting our community are things that I highly appreciate.
Thank you everyone.
Wishing you a great weekend and a fabulous Valentine’s Day.
I am thrilled that my poem “A Night of Marble and of Gingerbread” was included in Hebe to Hades, A Free Verse Revolution Anthology.
Thank you to Kristiana, the editor of this wonderful volume.
A Night of Marble and of Gingerbread by Gabriela Marie Milton
on the top of the mountain the pines silhouette against the whisper of the rocks the night is cut from marble, and from gingerbread the wind stops on a branch touched by a naked star I take the measure of that which forever youth gives red poppies that never wither seeds that never impregnate the ground a love that still plays with toys, and lights candles in a Christmas tree in the middle of summer the moon is mortal and concerned with trivial matters and so am I Hebe, how many know that you are the bud of incest and patricide? how many know your child’s eyes witnessed so many crimes? filled with pain, you stop growing up, isn’t it so? oh, don’t cry here is my impermanent heart wear it for one day in the morning you will see the old oak dying in the rain at noon butterflies will sit on your hair in the night a Lethean forgetfulness will lecture on the beauty of transitory love kisses will feel like honey on the tongue the breath of love will rest on your skin you will grow up what? you do not want your forever youth back? dream it’s spring
Image: Dante Gabriel Rossetti – Beata Beatrix, Public Domain
Poem by Gabriela Marie Milton
I see you a lost stranger dissimulating grief in the #fall’s shadows I feel you dreams of wild young tigers in the Sahara of my suns the fate plays games I drag you into the lands of spells which crawl passions strike till all is left from us are ashes in a bowl#vss365#poetrypic.twitter.com/FSgZoNHrU4
Richard Westall, “The Artist’s Wife, As Sappho”- Public Domain
Poem by Gabriela Marie Milton
pearls braid themselves onto my dress yesterday’s departure sign I shed sweet tears on the tip of the old oak oh, cross, you burn the skin he so much loved rosy moons turn water into wine she came again tonight the nightingale who sings of Sappho’s suicide
Woman: Splendor and Sorrow: | Love Poems and Poetic Prose by Gabriela Marie Milton featured in San Francisco Book Review
Woman: Splendor and Sorrow: Love Poems and Poetic Prose by Gabriela Marie Milton is a touching poetry collection centering on love, philosophy, and heartbreak. Packed with rich imagery and figurative language, Milton’s poems color the pages with beauty, inspiration, and sincerity…
I learned how to read in the mint forest under a pale October moon. My eyes, blueberries mama gathered in her wicker basket. The unassuaged yearnings of a golden autumn spread under my skin. I found the rivers where fish were born, and nightingales sang. I thought to myself: you, night, how beautiful you are crowned with black poppies and nursing ancient lovers at your chest. A boat sailed straight through my heart. The earth stretched its arms to pick up stars. Then a war started. A bat-eyed wind blew, and the earth turned toward itself. And I thought to myself: you night, how painful you are. Tell me something after I die and before tomorrow’s departure. Let me wear twelve sage leaves on my lips. Let my body blossom on the Hill of Slane when the breath of sleep rises from the empty crypt. You night, how wise you are.
The Anthology
From the publisher:
“From a shaft of sunlight warming the kitchen floor to a lush forest by Walden pond, what is it about experiencing nature that pleases and fulfills us? In the third volume of the Vita Brevis Poetry Anthology, established and emerging poets from around the world show what nature means to them. This is nature poetry at its most precise and moving, continuing the long tradition of Transcendentalism, deciphering ourselves and the world that sustains us — with art.”
Vita Brevis Anthology
Announcements
There is exciting news published in MasticadoresUsa. Please visit the site Here. Like and follow to support our literary community.
On a different note, this month I will features two poetry collections published or to be published by two of your fellow poets. Please stay tuned for more news.
Congratulations to those who entered the poetry contest Woman: Splendor and Sorrow: | Love Poems and Poetic Prose and won Honorable Mentions. I am most grateful for your contribution. The beauty of your poems filled me with joy. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!
The authors, their sites, and their poetry:
Honorable Mentions – Poetry Contest Woman: Splendor and Sorrow: | Love Poems and Poetic Prose [in no particular order]
Joni Caggiano, inspired by The child to be, You Were The Best of Us
Daylilies and lavender fall from a sky of bright eyes, in the silhouette of a boat, under a quarter moon. Born on the month of the ram with your right fist on your pink cheek. I was twenty, and you were my gift from God and my second love. My milk came like a white river on the third day. Red, your color, dwelling within the passion where fire seared black, my white peasant dress. Burning away the smell of gardenias and honeysuckle, a miracle fashioned within our fervidness. Meeting your father in an arid desert on foreign sand, oh, how I was craving dreams, escape, and freedom. He was to be my savior, but he was only a man. Like the red coral of the sea, our child was the best of him and me.
Cindy Georgakas, Inspired by Self-Indulgence, Chance Meeting
We sat at the coffee shop and chatted, eyes riveted drinking in the rose hips of winter in February, where children run in the snow. We escape from hardships and cold. Electricity between us like thunder of the night. Steam escaping… sent shivers up my spine. Different silhouettes in denseness, yin and yang. worlds apart, but one species. We scan each other; Small-town country to city slicker. Voices echoed, through the caravan of the room. A chance meeting, where tight spaces took distance away. Mountains etched with grooves on either side, sandwiched between the icicle cafe, where bodies collide. Cupid piercing the heart. Sweetness found wrapped In foil like the chocolate waiting at our chairs. We sigh, our coffee cold. Country song on the radio singing “Live like you were dying”
Jeff Flesch, inspired by and…love… and… love… is seen.
is not the end this story may commence like petals on a flowers recompense
and… as love breaks the moon in two I’m reminded of you tranquility among stormy seas the key
you… me….
and… the dreams cast far out into the wild we idly stand by regarding each other for a while
then… what is distant can be seen shapes and figures cut from trees earthly figures caught in a blissful underwater scene as
hope… becomes something familiar caressing the tree tops with delicate fingers made from years of turmoiled laughter transfigured into something adjoined to the hereafter
and… love… is seen.
Karima Hoisan, inspired by Sahara, The Stars of Wadi Rum
After the devoured lamb licking our fingers clean 2 million stars of Wadi Rum pulling our eyes up to the sky You hooked my little pinkie with yours as we lay in the sand hearing the adolescent boy playing the Oud until he made us cry.
Purple mountains pink sand, fake feet fights laughing undercover we muffled our laughter with your sleeve. No-one has the right to be this happy
All I need is you.
Your profile, a Persian princess framed in embers from a dying fire…. My honored one, I trace your nose with my feather, wrap the blanket tighter, those gelid desert nights. are swirling swirling.
“Tomorrow I’ll buy the best gold to adorn us. You always laugh when I am serious. I’m really serious!”
Some masks with silver tooling and hanging coins, We’ll tinkle and impress next time we buy bread, but tonight…. I just need you alone. Cling to me, we are a shipwrecked life raft for each other on this rolling sea of sand.
* * * * * *
“The caves are so beautiful in morning light “Come sleep up above with us” “You’ll miss it all”
Beneath the golden wattle We meet again to read poetry The spring wind pays us a visit I pick yellow out of your tawny locks and brush them off your lips with a kiss Your freckles bloom like pansies
Announcements
The poems of all other finalists will be featured immediately after the New Year.
Thank you once again for entering the poetry contest Woman: Splendor and Sorrow: | Love Poems and Poetic Prose.
A new literary initiative will be announced after Thanksgiving.
