when I submitted this poem to the magazine, I received the following reply:
Unfortunately we are going to pass on your work. We don’t feel that it is quite the right fit for our A Portrait in Blues anthology. Good luck placing it elsewhere.
Platypus Press Editors
Rather, this poem contains all the blues’ features, only the message is not served on a plate. Pay attention to key words. It’s a poem about the separation of a (wo)man from the toxic environment and finding strength and meaning in their own being.
authors’ note: Rest assured my remark does not contain any hint of the petty conceit. Enjoy my poem.
I have found my face
It is beautiful…
to smile by the lake, to kneel before my image
Beside my one true lover
Who gazes upon my improved facial features
I touch them with my newborn newly lengthened arms
Recreating myself , but in my own image
what a magnificent creature I am
the pure form, offended by piss-poor perfection
I have no need for this damned society
Of humanity’s cretinous castaways,
now that I have found
my mad reflection
that gazes at what she cannot touch!
and one love
With this new love brought from Heaven to Earth
with this beautiful creation emerged from the freezing water
there will be no more Petrarchan Platonic patheticalness
no more dark clouds above my shoulders with the strong pungent smell of storm
there will be.. No!
no more waking life, no!
No more wounds in my back, no crying at night
I understand that love is essential
I am taking the silvered mirror
I am kissing the lips of God
I am having my first date.
Vanity on the fox’s trail
Behold, a miracle!
Supposedly one-sided at instants
Suitable for a scrambled moment
The martyr and her daughter who wash their feet
Tasseled with nails instead of sandals
Anything but sough
Shores and scrapings fantasizing
Daughter do you wish the powder to slip you
To disturb the onus, non-being and tendrils
Wistful across the stones you overcome
Blacker than night
You fear there will no longer be vertebrates
It is the third hour in the night After
from “The Darkness will understand”
Why are there no borders
Between lies and life
Before the virginal knees
I was born in the dalliance of light and shades of the waterfall
And waited to bite the fruits
Through one world or a century
And they were bitter inside
I return to the scent of home
The island which swims through night and water
This is a poem, “Dripping Windmils”, written by Leila Samarrai, theme: the poem is about the modern Prometheus, defended by God, unlike the original legend, the sensible man who is faced with injustice and cruelty in a merciless battle with beasts in human form .. When he brought them the fire they, evildoers, burned his face starting gossiping and chanting lies about him, trying to destroy him in every way, spitting the fire in his face… Then he experiences, logically, metamorphosis into a dragon. Moral of the story: never attack a dragon or: it has always been mediocre trying to destroy the man who is in any way set aside them and above them. Especially the decieved one’s with soft and tender hearts. But even the tenderest voice can become a thunder if the blow of lightning from the villains was a strike to something more elevated thus challenging the wrath of gods themselves.