Sunday, April 18, 2010

My horn blows!

They say that if you swing the bat enough times you'll get a hit. In my case, if I endlessly submit, something will stick. Yesterday notice came that one of my poetry submissions was accepted for publication.

WAHFUCKINHOO! (And if that offends, perhaps you've come to the wrong blog.)

What makes this better than a contract from a publisher? Answer: Having it recognized and deemed suitable for print by a group of peers. The peers in question are students who've participated in the Honors level English Lit. classes at Finger Lakes Community College. It's an honor to be honored by the Honors House student body. (And baby do I ever LOVE alliteration!)

Without further adieu, here is my first publishing creditial (unfortunately the cool formatting utilized in MSW doesn't transfer to this blog).



Because you can’t

by K. Calarco



Why can’t I go back


to the place


where the song comes from?



a safe place.



frosted leaves;



innocent skies;



unbroken hearts.



hope.



You.



Why must I stay here


where nothing happens


at all?



Unlived and splintered


in the half dark.





So there you have it. Although I'm blocked and tormented by my Evil Inner Critic while trying to spin a novel, poetry is the essence of my creative beast.

8 comments:

Edie Ramer said...

Terrific poem, Kath! I can feel your happiness. Congratulations again!

Kath Calarco said...

Thanks, Edie! I feel almost famous. ;-)

Robin said...

Congratulations! I loved the poem! You're famous in my book. :)

Kath Calarco said...

Thanks, Binx! Right back at 'ya!

Erica Orloff said...

Wow . . . this is very, very awesome! Really captures a feeling.

Kath Calarco said...

Thanks, Ms. O.! Every once in a while when I wax, it's poetic. ;-)

Natasha Fondren said...

Oh Kath! Congratulations! And wow, I mean, poetry is such a tougher field than prose. You rock!

And this poem is SO evocative. I can feel that feeling precisely!

I'm ticked pink for you, Kath! You deserve this!

Kath Calarco said...

Thanks so much, Natasha. My heart drove that poem, stirring plenty of old feelings. Love when that happens. It's sort of an emotional scrapbook. :)