September: call for submissions

Fancy giving it a go, then let Kristiana know.

FREE VERSE REVOLUTION

To new and regular contributors to Free Verse Revolution, the September submissions window is open!

The theme will be Melancholy and it can be interpreted in any way you wish; whether that be loss, loneliness, sorrow or the melancholy found in missing the simple and little things.

I accept poetry and short pieces of prose which interpret the theme of the month in some way, and only one piece from each writer; but you may send up to three pieces for consideration.

Submission guidelines:

Send your submissions to myscreamingtwenties@gmail.com

September’s theme: Melancholy

Interpret the theme any way you wish; you do not need to use the word as a title. Pieces may be previously published.

Submission format: poem/short prose should be attached via email as a Word Document or Google Doc. Please refrain from pasting it into the email as this makes formatting very difficult.

Images: if you wish to…

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Chance was to Blame – The Mush from the Hill

Published on FVR as part of the August theme ‘Chance’. This one was inspired by an old black and white movie. Fancy a guess at which one?

FREE VERSE REVOLUTION

Is life mapped out or is the waking day chaotic chance. It was chance saw misfortune fall round about him, a sad state of affairs, changing a life of innocence? A macabre event on fateful evening, chance rolled the dice and he found himself on the losing side of natural.

Mysteries of life hiding from human eyes. Had he known, a pleasant evenings walk to be the demise of his normal life at that very moment when the moon was high? Shining so bright, sensing the malaise afore witness to the savage confrontation. Now the moon weeps over ancient curse.

Chance no longer plays a part, the game has been played, fortune lost. Makes no difference his temperament before said evening. He now lives a life of meticulous change the purest of heart can’t stop. And while the full moon shines, the wolf bane will bloom and the wolfman…

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Trophy – The Mush from the Hill

This one was published on Free Verse Revolution as part of their July theme of ‘Love’. Go check out some of the other great works over there.

FREE VERSE REVOLUTION

She was loved once

She once loved

But love has a cruel way 

Of casting aside those that 

Are seen as no more than

Trophies to be presented

Until the trophy becomes

Battered and tarnished

Scratched and bruised

Then it is just discarded

For no one to love

Not even herself


John is a Welsh Poet from the coastal city of Swansea in South Wales. His inspiration has come from many aspects of his life and the beauty of his local surroundings. He also likes to add a little imagination for good measure. You can read more of John’s work at The Mush from the Hill.

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Incarceration – The Mush from the Hill

First published on Free Verse Revolution as part of their monthly theme – Freedom.

FREE VERSE REVOLUTION

Is anyone truly free?

We sit looking out of

Rose tinted windows

Incarcerated by the

Need for a living wage

Craving cool fresh air to breathe

Fleeting thoughts pass by

Of what is our reality?

Like yesterday’s twitter feed

Blowing in solar winds

Of social media’s cyber space

Fake headlines catching our eye

The truth, a truth so hard to find

The waking day now a monkey puzzle

In a world of who or what to believe

Information overload blinds the mind

Talking down to us like hired help

While patting our heads for being good  

Politicians and conspiracy theorists unite

Welcome to Dystopia the land of the free

Where you will be happy, won’t you!

Because they will tell you how to be

Garbage in, garbage out

Losing our intelligence and free will

It won’t be long and you’ll see

There will be a new spelling

Of the…

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Slaves to Time – The Mush from the Hill

First published on Free Verse Revolution as part of their Monthly Theme: Time.

FREE VERSE REVOLUTION

We think of life as a marathon

But look back and we’ve run a sprint

Where did all that time go?

No more than an emotional glint

When did we become slaves to time?

Living our lives by the clock face

Strapped to our wrists

Ticking at a regular pace

I remember a time when time didn’t exist

I can even tell you the year – 1982

Time was no more than day and night

To live in the moment was all I wanted to do

I was thirteen that summer time

Playing footie over the Ganges Field

My marathon, all but started

With friends and fun, happiness my yield

Now I find time has overtaken me

With less in front than behind

Sprinting towards the finish line

My future no longer defined

Oh time; you liar, deceiver

Letting us believe we will live forever

Like a con artists promise

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