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Category Archives: Poetry

I’m involved in editing this anthology and have been going through what we’ve got so far. We’ve had some fantastic submissions so far, but room for more! Deadline 31 August 2017.

Open call for submissions of flash fiction and poetry for a charity anthology

 

We’re seeking submissions of poetry and flash fiction for a charity anthology  which will raise money for the Alf Dubs Children’s Fund.

 

Lord Alfred Dubs was rescued by the Kindertransport in 1939 and brought to Britain as a refugee when he was 6 years old. The fund’s aim is to help lone children refugees, protect them from traffickers, and get them to safety.

 

You can read more about it here.

 

Please note that as this is to raise funds for charity, no payment will be made to authors. The project is being run by volunteers with all profit going straight to the fund.

 

The anthology will be released in conjunction with a second anthology of science fiction short stories (for which submissions are full) later this year.

 

Submissions Guidelines

  • 100 line limit for poetry
  • 1000 word limit for flash fiction
  • Authors and poets may submit up to three pieces
  • The theme is child or refugee, but this can be a ‘flavour to the piece’ rather than a strict theme
  • Due to the nature of the charity, only PG submissions will be accepted
  • doc., docx., rtf., or txt. files please.
  • We’re not going to get strict on font or formatting, but nothing too weird please.

 

Please note that all pieces may be subject to editing (with your co-operation and permission of course), but please ensure that all submissions are as polished as possible.

 

We will ask for first publication rights. Full copyright and all other rights etc will be retained by the respective authors.

 

Any questions, please ask. Or get writing and send your submissions to charityanthology@gmail.com by 31st August.

 

Editors:

 

Sandra Fairbrother (writes as SW Fairbrother)

www.swfairbrother.com

 

Mark Lewis

https://syntheticscribe.wordpress.com/

 

Jesse Marbulcanti

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My latest collaboration as part of the Clockhouse London Writers is out now!

I Sing the Body Acrostic, linked attached below is part of another fine issue of Sein und Werden!

http://www.kissthewitch.co.uk/seinundwerden/spring16/index.html

In other news I’ve had a short ‘Interference’ accepted for the October issue of Morpheus Tales, watch this space!

Check out the latest Sein und Werden, it has a very interesting theme ‘Black Out’. It features found texts redacted and adapted to make new and thoughtful pieces. Poetry, prose, art and multimedia pieces. Includes the Clockhouse London Writers collaboration ‘Songs that Won the War’.

http://www.kissthewitch.co.uk/seinundwerden/winter15/

Pleased to be a part of the very interesting online magazine sein und werden again, this time as part of a collective effort with the other members of the Clockhouse London Writers!

Link below, read it it’s a lot of fun and free:

http://www.kissthewitch.co.uk/seinundwerden/winter13/index.html

This was back when Harry Potter ruled the book charts.  When it was still possible to visually do a survey of what people are reading on the train.  Now it would be something like ‘iPad, Kindle, generic Tab….;

Didcot Parkway to Bracknell Commuter Reading Survey II

Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows by J K Rowling x 6
Blood & Money by Graham Hurley
Imperium by Robert Harris
The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens
Fat by Rob Grant
Siege of Heaven by Tom Harper
The Glamour by Christopher Priest
The Dragon Reborn by Robert Jordan
The Subtle Knife by Phillip Pullman
Have I Got Views For You by Boris Johnson
Wicked by Jilly Cooper
Once by James Herbert
Vernon God Little by DBC Pierre
The Afghan by Fredrick Forsythe
Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
Transformers by Alan Dean Foster
Piers Ploughman by Anthony Trollope

Au Pair

One side of an overheard mobile phone conversation.

Where have you been?
Sleeping?
Well I suppose you feel better.
The house was beautiful
But
I’ve been thinking
We could get ourselves into a financial mess.
We should sit down.
Tonight.
And have a serious conversation.
I’ll get all the figures out.
She’s costing us a lot of money.
Not just her pay
But expenses;
Running her car.
I’m not suggesting we let her go now.
I’m not;
We promised to keep her
For a year; we’ll do that.
The children can cope
The school meals are good.
They can have ham sandwiches for tea
We could make a big daal at the weekend.
I’m not saying
We tell her to go now.
But when she does go again
It’s what she wants to do, she said,
Then tell her she doesn’t need to come back.
She’s only here for the work permit.
Of course we’ll need to take on a cleaner.
But just once every couple of weeks.
We’ll talk tonight
I know it’s a bad time.

Blue Notebook

Red leather bag rests on her thighs;
she takes out a burgundy leather notebook.
Tears out a black page, rests it on the cover,
scribbles on it with a silver calligraphy pen.

What mysteries? What thoughts, what hopes?
What dreams?

Milk
Potatoes
Carrots
Tetley Tea Bags
Water Filter
Crisps (Salt & Vinegar)

Another found object.  Aren’t ties crazy things to wear when you think about it?  I myself have a collection of ties I would never wear now: Spock, Q from Star Trek The Next Generation, Dastardly and Muttley.  Not ties to engender confidence in one’s professionalism I fear.

White Mice

Staring ahead
closing eyes sleepily,
leaning back against the filthy seat:
Hands crossed;
blue suit
white shirt.
Tie decorated with white mice,
sleeping
on cartoon cheese
(full of holes)
triangular,
nibbled.

More notes on commuting, in the bygone pre-credit crunch age.  That summer it seemed like the apocalypse even before the financial crisis kicked in, with towns in the Midlands and Wales under water.

Flood

Red Tie, a blossoming of pink butterflies;
Smart Black Suit
Legs crossed,
Shining black shoes,
Raised blonde-dark hair.
Red face (sunburn).
He talks to a colleague
In a deep gray suit,
Psychedelic tie,
Peering at the Times,
Reading about submerged Tewkesbury.

They talk:
About the flood, the roof not even leaking,
30,000 gallons of rain per second
And drought
And how financial services is doing well
But retail and IT are slow.

It’s been too long since I’ve posted.  Parenthood, Summer, life, holidays, studying, work, you know.   I thought it was time I posted another poem in The Passengers series.  My current workplace does not require me to wear a tie.  It was mandatory at the job before that.  What does it all really mean?

Tied In

It rustles gently,
silk tie on nylon shirt.
Coiling against my book
smelling of the day;
polluted train stations.
Silk, yet the weave
coarse.
Shiny ripples.
Deep purple fibres,
contrast with lilac fibres;
crossed with straight
navy thick lines.

The tie was a leaving present;
Legal and General;
chosen by Anthony Jones,
(tasked with finding the most ugly).
I was leaving a company
with a casual dress policy.
For an accountancy-led company
That insisted on ties
at all times.

My soon-to be former colleagues were disappointed.
The tie, not too bad; Anthony Jones’ taste,
too conventional to be lurid.

I never wore it at my next job,
or the next, or next.
Until now.
I have embraced the shiny purple tie.