Call for Submissions: Poems for Peace: Anthology

Some of you might be interested in submitting poems to this anthology. I know I am.

August 1, 2018 deadline!

poems for peace: an anthology to uplift encourage & inspire

This anthology, poems for peace (forthcoming, fall 2018), is the love-child of a group of poets and listeners who have been gathering quarterly in San Antonio, Texas since Nov. 11, 2017 in association with the San Antonio peaceCENTER.  This anthology will be published as a peaceCENTERbook, with all proceeds going to support the CENTER.

While we are aware that many horrors occur in our world and that, as a people, we seem to be in turmoil and conflict on many fronts, our aim is to provide respite from the apparent problems and to purposefully turn our attention to the good, the Whole, the Holy, that which is full of peace and comfort.

For this inaugural issue of poems for peace, we seek work that is metaphysical, celebratory, fun, funny, lighthearted, playful, thoughtful, warm, tender, beautiful, compassionate, heart-opening, or spiritual without proselytizing, nostalgic without being overly sentimental, empowered without being politically charged and rich with imagery and story but not with graphic insensibility or dealing with overtly, hot topics that may trigger anxiety or anger in the listener (like abuse issues, natural disasters, or tragedy in general).

Rather, we seek work that uplifts, encourages and inspires.  We are especially interested in the metaphysically broad; we look for the profound, real, fearless, gender-inclusive, curious voice.

Guidelines:

Please send 3-5 previously unpublished poems of up to ten pages in length and in any form in a single Word document, making sure that no identifying information appears within the document.  Include a brief, bio (100 words or less) in your cover letter.  Submissions are being hosted by Moon Shadow Sanctuary Press via Submittable only (see link below).

The book will be perfect bound and available online through the  peaceCENTERbook link and other online venues plus locally in bookstores TBA.  Poets included in the anthology may be invited to participate in future poets for peace events.  For more information or to ask questions about poets for peace or submissions, look for us on Face Book, or send us a message here:  fb.me/poetsforpeaceSA

Deadline: August 1, 2018

Click here to submit: https://moonshadowsanctuarypress.submittable.com/submit

The Fullness That Precedes

image

The Fullness That Precedes

it is not
the moon but
rain that attracts

me to this
place no faint
light no shadow

but the fullness
that precedes its
history that of

magic from nothing
to nothing by
which one may

discern perfection a
cloud the solitary
note of distraction

image

Written in the 80s, “The Fullness That Precedes” first appeared here in May 2015.

The Ballad of Banaabkwe and Her Gulls

Anna Marie Sewell’s poetry is a force of nature. Read this!

Prairiepomes

What diplomacy today
can bring to the rescue mice fit to chew through
plastic nooses carelessly left to wind around
the bleeding necks and throats of sea elephants?
You don’t hear that fable, now, do you? – Don Perkins

1.
Banaabekwe, at her loom of seagrass
slowly, in dappled morning sun, weaves
stories for her little ones, to wear as necklace
until they are strong enough
to swim all the way out to sea.

There, the young manatees lay
their grass mantles upon a tide roller
a brave declaration of status attained
and pledge of love to salt water.

It is the gulls who act as midwives
to this epic surfing task; they cry
urging on the young ones, and send
their own youth to the challenge –

– Who can snatch a grass garland
from the crest of a wave, before
it breaks? Who dares leave it longest
even…

View original post 723 more words

The Military Industrial Complex’s CPAs Never Sleep

 avocado

The Military Industrial Complex’s CPAs Never Sleep

We so seldom bury people at sea
in weighted shrouds,
preferring instead sealed
containers or ashes
mixed with concrete.

Little girls skip
down the street,
giggling, unaware of their
value on the open
market. Dollars, oil.
Weapons. All fungible.

On the forgotten shelf,
the avocado’s flesh
blackens inside
its withering armor.
How is too much
never enough?

Targets based on
possibilities, innuendo,
cost-benefit analysis:
three men and a camel,
wedding parties,
hospitals, homes.

When morning comes,
they’re still awake,
collating damage, counting
opportunities, massaging
sums, ignoring cost,
harvesting their dead fruit.

military

This first appeared here in September 2016.

Gaza

file00098429292

Gaza

We presume affliction by census,
whereas light

requires no faith.
Is the roofless house a home? When you call
who answers? The vulture

spreads its wings
but remains on post. Shifting,
I note minute of angle, windage. No

regrets, only tension. Breathe in. Exhale.
Again.

***

“Gaza” first appeared here in July, 2014, and is included in my chapbook, If Your Matter Could Reform.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Ashes

file0001138262091

Ashes

To sweeten the dish, add salt. To bear the pain,
render the insoluble. She envied

the past its incursions, yet the past yields to all,
avoidance to acceptance, trees to smoke.

My mother brought to this country a token of her death to come.

Now it sits on my shelf bearing implements of music.
In her last days I played Sakura on the mandolin,

trusting that she might find comfort
in the blossoms fluttering through the failing notes,

a return to mornings
of tea and rice, of
warmth and paper walls and deep laughter.

Today the rain spells forgive

and every idea becomes form, every shadow a symptom,
each gesture a word, a naming in silence.

Scatter me in air I’ve never breathed.

* * *

“Ashes,” first appeared in Extract(s) in 2013, was reprinted on The Reverie Poetry Journal, and is included in my chapbook, If Your Matter Could Reform.

DSC_0206

The Stone Remains Silent Even When Disturbed

image

The Stone Remains Silent Even When Disturbed

In whose tongue
do you dream?
I fall closer to death

than birth, yet
the moon’s sliver
still parts the bare

branches and an unfilled
trench divides the
ground. Bit by bit,

we separate – you
remain in the earth,
recumbent, as I gather

years in stride.
Even the rain
leaves us alone.

image

This first appeared in December 2015.