"Win, Oh Lord, My Heart" - Josh H.

Anxious thoughts befuddled,

Huddled beneath layers of cruff.

Stuff that is loved and hated

Created by love fogotten,

Rotten in apathy and suppression,

Aggression, foul, lust.

Must I live forever,

Wherever, wandering without thought

Caught in muck and mire.

Aspire to the world

Curled in activity,

Brevity of faith shown

Sewn in body and soul.

Coal, the color of sin.

Win, oh Lord, my heart,

Part the dark abyss,

Kiss the mess,

Confess the death

Breath of life

Strife removed,

Moved beyond words

Towards light and hope.

**Editors' Note**- From now on (we will return to Martin's poem as well), to promote feedback from ourselves and our readers, we are going to write what we liked about a poem after every original work we post.  Feel free to chime in with any feedback- positive or constructive- so we can all learn from this process!

We enjoyed Josh's poem because we think it shows a mastery of language--specifically that he showed restraint and creativity in his form and structure (the rhyming especially) while building vulnerable content within that restraint.

Sonnet 116 - William Shakespeare

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved. 

(Thanks to Bekah O. for this submission)

"God is in the Details" - Martin J. (With Commentary)

You killed me with your books
and your scientific looks
silenced me to mute
and added philosophical dilute
to all the things I've done
and all the hearts I've won
you played out my part
and tore out my heart

Although my name is written
in every single line
of this complicated life
you made yourself a shrine

Has your wisdom whizzled you
has your ego become an ism
will you ever learn
that I'm the cure for schism

Where is the love I gave you
what did you do with it all?
Where's the man that was you,
did he make you fall?

Evermore I seek you
but you tend to shy away
from all the things I have to offer
you try to run away
and I don't know what else to do
to get your attention
to break through to you
and show you my affection

Hear my cry of love
and see the stains of blood
see the outstretched arms
of an everloving God



_____________________ 
Martin's poem demonstrates a consistent voice which we found creative
and endearing. Like Josh's poem, Martin used language to his
advantage, creating his own alliteration with "whizzled." His first paragraph is particularly strong, with the punchy first line.  We liked that smart sarcastic tone, and then how that tone slowly morphs into vulnerable sadness by the end of the poem. 

Letter of Thanks

Greetings!

We are really excited because this week Inklings Journal received a handful of great submissions, including both original and known poetry. Please keep submitting your "inklings" and remember that even though we have been focused on poetry so far, we welcome fiction and creative non-fiction as well (and can be flexible with the word count).

We are waiting to hear back on one of the submissions, and we will post it soon. Until then, enjoy this Mark Strand poem.



Looking forward to hearing from you,
Megan & Katy

"Eating Poetry" - Mark Strand

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.

The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.

The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.

Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.

She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.

I am a new man,
I snarl at her and bark,
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.

(Thanks to Melissa J. for this lovely submission)

Letter from the Editors

Dear Friends,

We are very excited for the reception Inklings Journal received two weeks ago for its debut. We have 16 blogspot follows and a fan page on Facebook that is growing! We also have a design brewing to pumpkin-spice-latte up the visual aspect of this blog (how excited is everyone for Starbucks' holiday drinks?!)

However (in bad paragraph starting form), we have had fewer submissions than expected! Some of you are brilliant writers and we know because we have seen proof of it (whether you are willing to agree or not). This blog is a bit of a stretch for us too (especially Katy), but through sharing we all become better and more confident writers. Katy and I are already benefiting from this by workshopping our old poems together and we'd love for you to be a part of that too.

If you are worried about posting something here that you may want to publish formally elsewhere in the future (because often publications require unpublished work, including online) we would like to publicly state that while we are looking for serious work, our ultimate goal is to share, test, and workshop poetry rather than to publish it. Basically, we're not going to retain any rights to your submissions--they will be yours as yours can be. So if that was holding you back, no need to be concerned anymore!

Also as a reminder, we would love if you would send in your favorite poems (known, unknown, whoever) so we can post them during the week.  We are both really enjoying the way this blog is causing us to read more, find more wonderful lines and have a place to share them with each other and with you. The more people involved in that, the better!

All submissions go to inklingsjournal@gmail.com :)



Katy & Megan

P.S. Yes, we are long-winded; that is who we are (and we like parentheses)! Don't forget to read Donald Hall's beautiful poem below.

"Gold" - Donald Hall

Pale gold of the walls, gold
of the centers of daisies, yellow roses
pressing from a clear bowl. All day
we lay on the bed, my hand
stroking the deep
gold of your thighs and your back.
We slept and woke
entering the golden room together,
lay down in it breathing
quickly, then
slowly again,
caressing and dozing, your hand sleepily
touching my hair now.

We made in those days
tiny identical rooms inside our bodies
which the men who uncover our graves
will find in a thousand years
shining and whole.

"Stone-Old" - Katy R.

That day she found stairs
That were stone-old.

She could tell because they were folded
Into the hillside, and the wild grass
Stretched through the cracks
With surprising familiarity,
The way a daughter slips
Through the crevice
Of her father’s bent arm.

There was nothing left to do
But climb. As she rose
She counted each step.

On number twenty-two
She imagined that at the top
Lived an elderly couple
So in love they
Hadn’t come down in years.

On step eighty-nine
She knew at the peak
She would find a monastery,
Aged and forgotten, beautiful
Like the tip of a sea shell barely exposed.

The steps climbed higher, reaching straight into the sun.
It felt like climbing into a dream, really.

Standing there,
It was if she could see for the first time,
And everything was so orange—
Like the Popsicle that nobody wants,
Unwrapped and melting away in space.

"Take Heart" - Megan H.

She was always telling people to "take heart" and never thought to wonder what it meant until the day she slipped off into a willowy wood and found herself floating among purple flowers and saw a glistening lily pad drift by holding a dragonfly that was lying motionless with it's blue body bent up like a pile of pick-up sticks. Silently she gasped for air and went under and stayed.

"She walks in beauty" - Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Greetings and Guidelines

Welcome to Inklings Journal. We are excited you have found us, and look forward to your submissions and comments. Please check every Tuesday for new entries showing work from known and unknown writers alike :)

Inklings Journal is made up of regular people, mostly idealistic post-grads, who love writing and want to grow in our skills as we build a community of writers. That said, we invite your participation in this altruistic, exclusively online, free journal.


Guidelines for submission:

• We accept original and favorite (and cited) poetry, fiction and creative non-fiction works, up to 500 words (negotiable if fantastic).
• Submit by e-mail (inklingsjournal@gmail.com) in the body of the e-mail, please. No snail mail yet.
  
• Please only send up to 3 poems, and 1 short fiction/non-fiction per week.
  
• We will post submissions based on what fits with the heart of a journal, not necessarily what is most technically impressive. We will give feedback if your submission doesn't fit our purpose (please see Inklings Journal's "about me").
  
• We're looking for work that is accessible, authentic, and demonstrates a love of language and an appreciation for beauty.
• We don't like restrictions for writing, but have prepared a short presentation of what we don't want:

If you'd like to be in our clique
Here's a helpful limerick:
Metered rhyme is always fine
Hallmark greetings cross the line
If you hate your leaders, that's ok
But say it in a care-full way!
Be real, be true, say what you will,
But meaningful language gives a thrill
We're so excited to read your stuff
As long as it's not a bunch of fluff!

We hope you enjoy our Inklings!



Sincerely,
Co-Editors and Founders Katy and Megan