Rejection

I received my first rejection email the other night. It was from an online poetry magazine called Blue Skies. I believe that it is run by a member or former member of the Fort writing group. I had gotten word of an open call for submissions from the leader of the Fort group and submitted three poems before the first of the year. They were about Alberta places: the Fort, Edmonton and a range road near our home. The rejection was short and to the point, which was “sorry, but I don’t like your poems”. At least that is how I read it.

Poetry, in my own opinion, is one of the most subjective forms of written expression, and for the most part I don’t enjoy reading others poetry or even listening to them read it. I think that is because many poets are pretty ordinary writers and it shows in their choice of topic, theme, word choice, comparisons and structure. By far the most common has to do with emotional upset, particularly of the romantic variety, and consequently it reads like the bad poetry of a heartbroken 15 year old. Plaintive and cliche. Of course there are those poets who write about things - like their cats - or are “landscape” artists who drone on about flowers and meadows and the brilliant blue sky.

I didn’t really love the poems I submitted because I was tied to writing about Alberta as a place. That was the theme. The work was a forced and I guess it showed too much. Oh well, I am not a poet by nature though I can write it and an ever inspired to do so spontaneously on occasion, but I really just consider poetry a writing exercise more than something to do on purpose day in and day out.

Since I haven’t much invested in these poems, I am going to publish them myself here and on my Anniegirl1138 site.

Prairie Canopy

Sitting atop the earth like a crown
A canopy covering
Cloudy or crisply stark
Close enough to touch
Where far off rains occasionally drape its horizon
And the moon might hold a mid-day chat with the sun
A clean blue awning over all I can see
That darkens gradually from the prairie to become a backdrop for the clouds


Range Road 213

East past the tracks in Josephburg
Right at the gymkhana field
Forest lined but for acreage drives, canola fields and ponies grazing
Rolling and narrow it leads to the Yellowhead
From there, anywhere

Edmonton Skyline

Just past the Camrose exit
Heading west on Yellowhead Trail
And nearer than it looks
Sits Edmonton
So much like a cutout,
A child’s toy,
Waiting to be reached for
Scooped and carried
Away from refineries
Hazy obscurity

That the problem with writing to order. It’s soulless.