Monday, June 29, 2009

Submission Call-Autumn Sky Poetry, Number 15, October 2009

-----------------
For the first time ever, Autumn Sky Poetry will be publishing artwork as well as poems. If you are a poet who also dabbles in any of the visual arts, send me your work. I'm looking for poems with corresponding artwork:

—Do you have a poem about a barn? Send me the poem and the photo that you took that inspired the poem.

—Do you like to draw abstract shapes? Send me the poem you wrote and the doodle that you drew in the margin.

—Do you paint? Send me the painting and the poem you wrote about it.

—Did your sister or your son draw something after reading your poem? Send them in together.

—Alternatively, you may submit ekphrastic poems with a corresponding link to the art that inspired the poem. I won't publish the art, but I will include the link with the poem.
-----------------
Send submissions to: autumnskypoetryeditor@gmail.com

Send up to four poems within the body of the email. I only read the first four poems.

Attach the artwork as a .jpg. I will only accept four graphic attachments per submission.

To submit to this particular issue, make sure you include the words: "Submission Number 15" in the subject line of your email. All other email with attachments will be discarded unopened.
-----------------

-It's all about the poetry.
Christine Klocek-Lim
editor, Autumn Sky Poetry
-----------------

Friday, June 26, 2009

The myth of the "good old days"

Was just reading an op-ed on the NYTimes by Judith Warner about how nasty moms are toward each other. The sad reality of it and the anecdotes in the comments that followed convinced me to click away before I ruined my entire day. I ended up on yet another opinion piece, this one about Jon & Kate (seems none of us can escape articles about this particular couple). As I read through the educated opinions, I came across this one by Elizabeth Hartley-Brewer:

"When children had more freedom to play outside, and families’ front doors were left open for the neighborhood kids to traipse through, grabbing meals from which ever mom was handy when hunger hit, children would regularly see how other families lived. "

I want to know: who has ever lived like this? I just had a conversation with someone last week about this utopian vision of life. People talk about it all the time, but I certainly didn't grow up in world where I could just pop into the neighbors' houses. In my neighborhood, the kids stayed at home by themselves as our moms and dads worked at the factories around which the economy of my hometown was built. I would've been in big trouble if I rambled over to the neighbor's house, and most especially if I'd begged food! You do NOT ask for handouts because that implies your own parents cannot take care of you. Big time no-no. Still, I wondered if someone, somewhere had a childhood like this. I asked my mom:

"Well," she said, "I used to be able to hop into my cousin's apartment." My mom's mom worked in a factory and her dad was a butcher. Her grandmother took care of her and her cousins.

"That doesn't count," I insisted. Really, it doesn't. The whole extended family lived in one house and they had doors that opened into each other's apartments. That's a bit different from playing with the neighbor's kids in a sort of suburban utopia.

I asked my dad. He just looked at me incredulously. His dad was a coal-miner, his mom worked in a factory. I asked my husband. He was in day-care when he was a kid. I asked my mother-in-law. Nope. My father-in-law? Not even (the family was a wee bit concerned with escaping North Korea when he was a kid).

I asked an old friend: she was in boarding school. Another friend was in day-care. Another friend told me that she and her friends ran wild in the streets and that she's lucky she made it to high school. I asked a bunch of other people and none of them lived like this either. How far back into the past must one go to find this lovely childhood? If you go too far, you run into child labor and hideous infant mortality rates. Hmm. Before WWII a lot of people didn't even own their own homes where kids could dash to and fro because the culture of the single-family house wasn't yet built.

So, where did this particular vision of the wonderful good-old-days come from? I think it's a collective yearning for better than what one has. There's always someone or sometime that was or is better than your life now, and you want it, desperately. You want it enough to paint the past with lovely colors over top of the grim reality. I suppose this is not surprising. It's much more pleasant to repress the horrible details of the past than it is to remember fully just how difficult life has always been, otherwise the future stretches ahead of us too awful to bear.

Or perhaps my sample-size is just too small and really, paradise existed in small-town America. I don't know the location of this town, and I haven't met any of the kids who grew up there or their kids, but maybe, just maybe it was real.

Yeah, NOT.


ETA: I just realized that last week the neighbor's grandkids came by unannounced, as they often do, to play with my boys. I put a bowl of strawberries on the counter for them to eat. A few hours later the girls went home and the bowl was empty. The "good old days" aren't in the past, they're today and tomorrow!

Sunday, June 07, 2009

Please check out the latest issue of Holly Rose Review. I'm happy to have my poem "Endearment" included (with audio) next to the gorgeous art of Seven Beckham.

As the editor, Theresa Edwards says:

"The theme is PASSION with worldwide contributors. Poetry by Arlene Ang, Donavon Davidson, Lane Falcon, Peter Joseph Glovizcki, Kathryn Good-Schiff, Seth Jani, Pamela Johnson Parker, Christine Klocek-Lim, Daphne Lazarus, Jee Leong Koh, Donnelle McGee, Marie-Elizabeth Mali, Colleen Mills, Erika Moya, Rhonda Palmer, Siimon Petkovich, Jayne Pupek, Edwin Rivera, Kathrin Schaeppi, & Martha Silano. Tattoos by Seven Beckham, Chris Belville, Cengiz Eyvazov, Luba Goldina, Shotsie Gorman, Maxime Lanouette, Soul Expressions, & Shane Tan. Original art by Tiffany Carpenter, Bob Dilworth, and Thomas Woodruff.

The poems are reminiscent, sensual, and bold. The art unleashes anger, fear, love, and determination. And expressions are limitless throughout as emotion screams, swells, and flourishes on each page."

And did I mention they have a store? You can buy a mug! Or a t-shirt!