11/09/2019

When Publishers Reject Your Poems.....

Like me, many of you love hearing, reading or writing poems. If you are, or have been discouraged about not getting your poems published and the rejection letters keep coming from the publishers, I have some thoughts I would like to share:

1) Keep writing more poems. Don't give up.
2) Keep reading more poems from many different poets. Read English translations of poetry written by poets writing in other languages. The more good poetry you read, the more you will realize there are areas where you can perfect your writing. You will also be exposed to many more poetry styles, and you will become aware of the work of other poets across the globe, and might even make some connections. Poets like to know that people are reading their work, and they appreciate feedback.
3) Attend an open mic in your city and read your poems (I have not been brave enough yet to do this, but I hope to one day)
4) Do a book review of a new poetry collection. You will get your name out there, and the author will appreciate it.
5) Attend a writing workshop or retreat. There are many taking place in different cities and countries.
6) Reach out to a published poet and ask for advice; ask if they are willing to read a few of your poems and give you feedback, or if they have the time, and are able to provide some short term mentorship. I have reached out to poets such as Lorna Goodison, Christine Craig, and Pam Mordecai (all featured in the past on the blog), and they have all been very gracious with their time and advice. I have also taken the time to purchase their works, and in one case I wrote a review on the blog. One of these poets even shared with me that she actually self-published her first collection when publishers did not accept it. Which leads me to tip number 7.
7) Don't be afraid to self-publish your work. Publishers can never accept or publish all the manuscripts ever written, because of the sheer volume, and self-publishing has lost the stigma it once had. If you self-publish, you are also likely to get some reviews, which is useful feedback, and you will get your name out there. Many self-published authors have gone on to be prolific writers, and have achieved success all on their own. In my own case, I self-published my first collection, From Cane Field to the Sea, which was really a tribute to my mom and grandmother. Even if it never wins awards and makes me rich, the poems are special and personal to me.
8) Finally, when the next rejection letter comes, you could write a reply reminding them about J.K. Rowling, and the publishers who initially rejected her work. Just kidding! You don't have to waste your time and energy replying to publishers. Just keep writing, keep believing in your work, and aim to improve your craft.

Happy poetry writing!

10/15/2019

Shout-Out To Caribbean Poetry Fans!

I just want to give a shout out to all the readers today who checked out the blog. They viewed from Jamaica, United States, Indonesia, Ireland, Mexico, Malaysia, Netherlands, Romania, and St. Vincent and the Grenadines.

Appreciate your support. Hope to have some new poets and poetry up soon.

Enjoy your week.

Poetically yours,

Yasmin

10/02/2019

Doe Songs, by Danielle Boodoo-Fortune

Hi Caribbean poetry fans!

I should have posted this a while back, but I have not been updating the blog for a while. What can I say? Life has been happening!

Anyway, I am happy to add my congratulations to Danielle Boodoo-Fortune, on the publication of her first book of poetry, Doe Songs (Peepal Tree Press). I have featured Danielle on the blog in the past, and I am excited to be sharing more about her work here.

If you haven't yet, get your copy, and give me your feedback.

In the meantime, enjoy a poem from Danielle, entitled, Petitioning the Patron Saint of Childbirth:

There is a place not far from here where
two rivers meet the sea, a shore dark
and pitted as a caiman's back.
My thoughts drift here when I pray to you,
to swollen water and lonely pit,
tide-risen belly of a mangrove god.

Every white room I enter is untruth.
The doctor is not my maker. He can barely keep
my bones together. He cannot sew me
into wholeness, even with your holy medallion
round my neck. Oh saint, there is so much
I cannot tell you.

Perhaps I will confide in Xochiquetzal,
goddess of childbirth, mother of ocelots and flowers.
Perhaps I will write letters
to my own mother with invisible pigment
made of colostrum and brine.

But these words are all seeds; hard-shelled
and deep-veined like nutmeg, falling to earth
in careless handfuls. I know this forest of silence
is of my own making.

Now what can you say to me
that the wild Atlantic has not?
I've already heard the one about
everything happening for a reason.

Dear saint, I know you will not
take me in your pristine arms
and make me weightless, even if I beg
Behind my eyes at night there is only water,
my unborn child inside me a turn of turtles
flailing in the deep, crossing the unknown.

Source: Poetry Foundation. Accessed October 2, 2019