Most events are installed on their deadline date, unless there is a long submission window or unless it's a rolling submission.
P=Poetry, N=Nonfiction, F=Fiction
Boudin is currently looking for creative work that speaks on the beautiful moments of queer life, the not so beautiful moments, and even the everyday uneventful moments. The goal of this issue if to remind everyone that queer people have always been here and will always be here. We cannot be erased.
We want to read haibun and tanka prose that excites. It should leave THE DOOR AJAR to the world, and work with tension.
The theme is ‘Competition’. Remember, it needs to make us laugh! (In a good way)
Whether doors conjure memories or set your mind on a fictional adventure, we welcome your creative work.
Time of Singing welcomes poetry that talks about God and our relationship with Him and each other--as well as general inspirational and nature poems.
A poem could have 12 syllables, 12 words, or 12 lines; it could be an erasure of page 12 or Chapter 12 of a particular book; it could be created from a word-pool you generated by gathering every twelfth word of a source; it could be a cento combining 12 different sources.
"In the Kitchen" poetry could involve foods, customs, kitchen talk, preparation, or teaching.
Summer is close and we like to spend much time outside. You are challenged to observe the sky, to explore the objects in the sky: airplanes, kites, skyscrapers, balloons, clouds, rainbow, moon, stars, anything you want.
As we all contend with the global ":crisis" in politics, climate and return to bias and prejudice, we're asking our readers to consider ways of engaging in tapping into our own collective and inner resilience.
What does it mean to be a poet engaged with the physical material of the world around us? How does poetic form change in the encounter with other beings? How do we write collaboratively with—rather than about—nonhuman beings and ecologies?
Yaffle’s Nest invite you to submit poems about what you consider to be the best songs of all time.
Put on your Sunday best for this edition of Griffith Review, which goes behind the seams to unpick the many paradoxes of fashion.
In this issue, we explore the boundaries drawn around us—by law, by faith, by fear—and the ones we are willing to cross, no matter the cost.
What ideas does the word sanctuary evoke for you? Are you thinking about being rescued, or offering rescue? Where do you find sanctuary?
A mountain could be desolate or teaming with life; it could be a struggle, an idea, or a large thing in an otherwise small space. It could also be a hurdle or something to conquer.
Stories for this theme have a chance to really immerse us in the ocean's depths—from mythical creatures and mysterious islands to terrifying trenches and lighthouses standing against time and tide.
The intimate spaces, fleeting moments, and hidden corners where life reveals its depth. A single room, a brief encounter, or a whispered thought, these tiny realms often hold a quiet power that is often left unexpressed.
Tell us about survival: what it is and what it means. Tell us about coping in a dumpster fire world. Tell us about what scares you and how to overcome it. You get the idea!
We want examples from outside of the mainstream, stories about practices, ideas, and movements that were/are suppressed by economic, socio-cultural, religious, or imperial (colonial) powers.
Gold isn't just a precious metal. It's the light that shines through darkness, illuminating our shared humanity. The warmth that brings us together when the world feels cold. The glow of beloved faces in firelight, a setting sun, candles on a table.