Ready to send your poems, short story, or essay out into the world? Stop right there! What do you really know about the literary journal you’ve chosen to submit your writing to? Before you hit “send” on your keyboard or stick a postage stamp on that envelope, make sure you’ve answered these seven important questions.
Today in LGBTQ* History
September 8th, 1907
Gertrude Stein arrives in Paris (1907), her first day as an expat, and meets Alice B. Toklas. The two quickly fall in love (Stein often called Toklas “wifey”) and remain together until Stein’s death (1946).
Information Source: What is Remembered by Alice B. Toklas
Advice to young poets from Sophie Cabot Black.
To see more postcards from our 2012 Poets Via Post program, visit poets.org.
In memory of the late Robin Williams, I decided to write the poem below, describing how depression can take over your life. It’s an illness that can be treated. It’s sad when people see no other way other than suicide and my heart goes out to Williams’ family in their time or mourning. The world has lost such a great man. Don’t take this poem as how everyone feels with depression. The feelings expressed do not reflect how I feel now or in recent past. Mom, please don’t freak out and think I’m going to kill myself, I promise I am fine. :)
Your mind is dark
but still alive, barely holding on
Trying to fall apart
Happiness is seemingly forgone
Everyone sees a smile
Everyone sees a laugh
No one see how you lie
in turmoil, that you’ve had enough
As you site, you ponder
"Why am I even her?
Are there others,” you wonder,
"Who also live in fear?"
You pick up a book
from your very top shelf
Been a while since you’ve given it a look
And you say to yourself,
"If there are others
I would have found them”
You curl into your covers
"Maybe they’re all dead."
That word, it strikes you
with a surprise
Maybe I should be, too.
To stop all the lies.”
Open the book
Turn the pages
Find the one for which you look
In your head, run through the stages.
Denial and Anger are first
Then comes Bargaining
And then Depression becomes worse
Acceptance is never coming.
Finally, your page has come,
the rest of the book hollow
Inside you find you gun
And everything else as follows:
Two bullets and a length of rope
The meds that never worked
You find it hard to cope
with your low self-worth
Load the gun
Turn the safety off
The time has finally come
No one there to see you off…
-Ashley Tomlinson, 8/15/2014, 3:55pm
Rest in Peace Robin Williams; May you finally find peace.
After a rejection, this one last question is tough to ask—but the answer could change your outlook completely.
Are you bold enough to ask this question after a job rejection?
Well I got a knock on my door a little over an hour ago. I open it to find my neighbor standing there with my mattress pad, explaining that her son had grabbed it thinking it was hers. Now since I had already made an ass of myself and threw her stuff on the floor, which I did not admit to, I hurried down to the laundry room to retrieve my not-so-nice note about my “flea-infested cum stained” mattress pad. She had not yet been down there to see it. I grabbed it, told her she probably didn’t want to read it and that I was really pissed off when I wrote it.
Either way, the mystery of the missing mattress pad is solved and I did not make a complete ass of myself with the new neighbor. Again, until next week everyone!
Everyone gets another blog for this week. In my apartment complex we can have stackable washers and dryers in our apartments but they are too small to wash any kind of comforters. On our floor they have a full size washer and dryer that is for the whole building.
While I thought that it would be okay, I did something I don’t normally do. I left my $100 mattress pad on the table in the laundry room down the hall. Waiting for someone to get their blankets out of the dryer, I left it there to start in the washer once the dyer was free for my first load of laundry. I come back 20 minutes later to find my mattress pad GONE and the dyer STILL FULL. Needless to say, I was pretty heated.
I mean really, who STEALS a mattress pad? What if I had bed bugs (which I don’t) or something? That shit is gross beyond belief. I know that I wouldn’t steal anyone’s bed linens simply because bugs are so easy to transfer, especially in an apartment complex.
So because I like to be a polite bitch when something like this happens to me, I left a note. Said note reads: “Whoever STOLE my mattress pad, thought you should know it is FLEA-INFESTED and CUM STAINED. That’s why it was here, TO BE WASHED!”
I’ll keep you updated as this story develops. ;)