FIRST ANNUAL MAGGY POETRY CONTEST JUDGED BY DARA WIER (HAS BEEN EXTENDED!) Maggy poetry magazine is proud to announce its first poetry contest, with winning poems selected by Dara Wier. Winning poems will be published in Maggy, issue 2, due out in fall 2010, and will announced by September 1st. All winning entries will be selected anonymously by Dara Wier. Dara Wier is the author of numerous collections of poetry, including most recently, Selected Poems (Wave Books, 2009), Remnants of Hannah (2006), Reverse Rapture (2005), which received the 2006 SFSU Poetry Center Book Award, Hat On a Pond (2002), Voyages in English (2001), Our Master Plan(1998), which received the Phi Beta Kappa Award, Blue for the Plough(1992), The Book of Knowledge (1988),All You Have in Common (1984), The 8-Step Grapevine (1980), and Blood, Hook & Eye (1977). Guidelines 1. All entries must be previously unpublished poems. 2. Do not include [...]
Alina Gregorian
(it’s scaffolding) (it’s supposed to be temporary) (the domino effect) (had been forgotten about) (it was in storage) (nobody knew where) (that’s a logging road) (you can see its gutters) (they leave handprints) (they shudder with dolor) (nobody could settle on any particular color) (they meant different things to different people) (for luck) (on the […]
V. I sometimes hold it half a sin To put in words the grief I feel; For words, like Nature, half reveal And half conceal the Soul within. But, for the unquiet heart and brain, A use in measured language lies; The sad mechanic exercise, Like dull narcotics, numbing pain. In words, like weeds, I’ll wrap me o’er, Like coarsest clothes against the cold: But that large grief which these enfold Is given in outline and no more. – Alfred Lord Tennyson from “In Memoriam A.H.H.”
Novel I. No one’s serious at seventeen. –On beautiful nights when beer and lemonade And loud, blinding cafés are the last thing you need –You stroll beneath green lindens on the promenade. Lindens smell fine on fine June nights! Sometimes the air is so sweet that you close your eyes; The wind brings sounds–the town is near– And carries scents of vineyards and beer… II. –Over there, framed by a branch You can see a little patch of dark blue Strung by a sinister star that fades With faint quiverings, so mall and white… June nights! Seventeen!–Drink it in. Sap is champagne, it goes to your head… The mind wanders, you feel a kiss On your lips, quivering like a living thing… III. The wild heart Crusoes through a thousand novels –And when a young girl walks alluringly Through a streetlamp’s pale light, beneath the ominous shadow Of her father’s [...]
by Elizabeth Bishop The moon in the bureau mirror looks out a million miles (and perhaps with pride, at herself, but she never, never smiles) far and away beyond sleep, or perhaps she’s a daytime sleeper. By the Universe deserted, she’d tell it to go to hell, and she’d find a body of water, or a mirror, on which to dwell. So wrap up care in a cobweb and drop it down the well into that world inverted where left is always right, where the shadows are really the body, where we stay awake all night, where the heavens are shallow as the sea is now deep, and you love me. Share this: Related Posts more correspondence The Melody Ascends Stepwise February 15, 2010 Nothing to say
I am happy to be posting on an even-numbered day in an even-numbered month in an even-numbered year. Give It Up! It was very early in the morning, the streets clean and deserted, I was on my way to the station. As I compared the tower clock with my watch I realized it was much later than I had thought and that I had to hurry; the shock of this discovery made me feel uncertain of the way, I wasn’t very well acquainted with the town as yet; fortunately, there was a policeman at hand, I ran to him and breathlessly asked him the way. He smiled and said: “You asking me the way?” “Yes,” I said, “since I can’t find it myself.” “Give it up! Give it up!” said he, and turned with a sudden jerk, like someone who wants to be alone with his laughter. by Franz Kafka [...]