Recently in Poems Category

The Rejected Semi-Finalist


I haven't posted a poem in, let's see, nine months, so I guess it's about time. Besides, there's stuff going on in my life poetry-wise: Chanson posted this cartoon from Matt Groening about questions poets don't like to be asked; last week I was notified that my collection of poetry is one of 26 semi-finalists (out of over 1000 books submitted) in a very prestigious first-book contest (the prize being $5,000 and publication, so of course I'm planning to win it); and I got this funky rejection letter yesterday that reads

Dear Holly,

We were fascinated by these poems, and drawn to them, particularly to _______, but the decision finally went again using anything from this batch. Do send us more by and by.

Of course I'd rather read that "we love all these poems and will print every last one of them," but being told my work is fascinating is better than other responses I've gotten, such as "interesting subject matter but language is too ornate" (from a journal with a very ornate title) or "too self-satisfied for our taste" (from the most self-satisfied journal I've ever seen).

Bad Habits


This entry on Dale's blog, about why it is that we buy books and don't read them and then go and buy more books, reminded me of this poem, which starts off being about that very same thing. It's another old poem, written and published in the early 90s.

And oh! Guess what! This is my 200th entry.



A Body That Expands


Another Thursday, another mild hangover. Yesterday was a friend's birthday and we went out to celebrate. I only had two beers but they were Belgian beers brewed by Trappist Monks, and we all know how completely loaded those guys like to get. Plus, as sometimes (but not always) happens when I drink, I then couldn't sleep, and took some sort of pill to help the process. All of which made for a crappy next morning.

The good thing about drinking during the week is that it frees my weekend up for extended sobriety. The bad thing about drinking during the week is, well, all the stuff I mentioned above, plus the fact that it means I don't really feel like blogging. And I even have a couple of things I want to write about! I may just have to write the entry today and post it tomorrow.

Chen Yo Jir in a Mexican Restaurant

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The Source of Each Day

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Social Realism

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The Invisible Woman

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Making Tea

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