January 2011
18 posts
testing 1-2-3
phoenixpoet:
new poetry publisher looking to put out books by a few passionate, hungry, and inexplicable writers over the next 3 months. applicants must be willing to put in work, but unafraid to change the world. the faint of heart need not apply.
interested parties should email rhapsodyinblu@gmail.com with “ver-bat-im” in the subject line ASAP.
click here for more info.
please repost.
“Before you can inspire with emotion, you must be swamped with it yourself....”
– Winston Churchill - (via biancaarenee)
8 tags
Reason #139704329803 To Submit to Borderline
All poems published by us this year (2011) will automatically be in the running for one of our 6 Nominations for the 2012 Pushcart Prize.
If you’re not familiar with the Prize, read more info about it here.
Long story short? Do it!
P.S.,
The same goes for our sister-journal, Anatomy & Etymology. For more information, and to find out how to submit poems for the debut issue, click...
Anatomy & Etymology
is our new sister journal.
science and poetry and trouble, oh my<3
Help Us Take Over the World (one reader at a time)
Your mission, if you choose to accept it:
Repost your favorite Borderline poem from any of the past 3 issues.
When reposting, ask your followers to join the reader side of the Borderline family by following us on Tumblr.
The logic: Every person who follows us gets an instantly-free subscription to Borderline, so PLEASE spread the word so that we can continue spreading all of the happiness,...
A.J. Huffman - Vol.1 Issue 3
Narcissus’ Wife
“But if it’s selfless love you’re looking for,
you’ve got the wrong goddess.”
— Margaret Atwood
He took me
to the water.
Showed me
his reflection.
And told me
the story of love.
But my eyes
did not focus.
And the waves
he commanded
were not true blue.
They fell
beneath his touch.
Showing me
what I was meant to see.
But deeper in the dark
there was...
realproperlike - Vol. 1 Issue 3
“war of the worlds freewrite” or “the nerve of orson welles!”
(based on a facebook conversation between myself (realproperlike) and fellow poet curtis meyer)
8:45 pm
as i crank the crank of the chevrolet coupe vigorously, the brim of my fedora engulfs my forehead and eyesight like how it is rumored that martians eat the brains...
K Ruckus - Vol.1 Issue 3
Hoof-winked I approached the wolf first. I loved the wolf. I loved him for being Everything that I’m not. I’ve always been a slow creature. Dumpy, and clumsy. The only thing I have is my words… It’s widely known that pigs are the Wisest of all the animals, it just doesn’t make us the best. I stalked him once… The wolf was majestic, sleek, agile, toned body built to...
Matthew Richards - Vol. 1 Issue 3
Princess Peach Becomes a Firefighter
I spent my whole life running from flames. But it won’t cease, this burning nursery calls me with the weight of collapsing cradles and the volume of every scream Bowser has ever forced from my lungs. Since I was born, my mother has taught me that rescue is unbecoming of a lady. There is nothing to be saved, no valuables to be salvaged from this...
Elliot D. Smith - Vol. 1 Issue 3
FROM A VOICE FINDING ITS WAY TO THE DEEP END I no longer live inside you like a noose, waiting for the moment I serpentine around your neck and betray the name you deny. It’s much better this way, with me stretched out on longer vocal chords, laying in wait, anticipating reunions with friends who haven’t yet heard my escape from your prison bars. I have always been people’s first clue about you....
Neil Hilborn - Vol. 1 Issue 3
My Grandmother in Detox My first drink was blistering sunshine, a sparkle in my throat. My fifty-third was static from a burned-out radio. You knew me after 282. You, my daughter, my screaming bundle of quiet. Last week, when your father shuffled with me through the hospital doors, it was for a cyst. A cyst. The doctors must have heard my liver howling for fire. That was six days ago. Before I...
Colin Gilbert - Vol.1 Issue 3
To Anna Nicole Smith from the Six Soldiers Who Died the Same Day as Her 1 When I enlisted I was told to get a girl back home. Not necessarily a girlfriend. A reason to return. Something with a pulse, with an ass to slap. Someone I could admit to never loving. After we made it to Baghdad, we hung your picture beside women in flag bikinis, long-legged tables for lust. Men did ignoble things to...
Safia Elhillo - Vol. 1 Issue 3
Questions for John Coltrane, from his saxophone dear John, what greater love is there than that between sweat and brow? what lullabies nest in your breath when you are silent? what am I without your breath? what am I when you are silent? a sword is only as powerful as its swordsman I have no voice without your whispers my dear John, what other women have known the notes traced into your palms?...
Paulie Lipman - Vol. 1 Issue 3
SQUEAKY
In August 2009 Manson Family member Lynette Fromme was released from prison after serving 30 years for attempting to assassinate the president. When I was 13 my father shut his mouth so hard that his last word to me was the hissing breeze through the delicate bayonets of his teeth After that he would only part his lips to grin flint at me like a spiked redwood tree Its only relief was...
Niccolea M. Nance - Vol. 1 Issue 3
Love, Mother I breathed deeply and decided to give you a chance made waters and fields for you traced rain from cloud to ground this was my art this was my love for you I see I loved you too much fed you too richly gave you too fine of harvests for too many centuries because you have grown fat gone beyond our partnership beyond agrarian purity into smoke stack filled skies ever hungrier for more...