I received a rejected letter from a literary journal a day after I turned 34. If my work were to get published, then this would be one of the loveliest birthday gifts from the publishing world. Frankly speaking, I don’t mind rejection letters. I’ve gotten them so much that I can make collage on the wall. It’s part of growing up as a writer. It helps me (the writers) to grow-up and mature before we are accepted by one of the top-five publishing houses.
Now, the editor commented the lack in its ‘form, structure and plot’. And she’s willing to help me to polish it up, so that I’m ‘always welcome to re-submit’ to the journal again. Fine. I did as she told. It’s approaching a week or so, and I have yet to hear from her.
‘When there’s a will, there’s a way.’
Right. ‘That’ isn’t the only journal that’s available in this world. I can never blocking the door, idly standing there. I have to move on, not that I still have my legs that functioning, but I’m not going to waste anymore time. I’ve already submitted it to another literary mag, and had other alternative online journals in mind, as well.
Somehow, the feminism theory that I’d studied in the Jurisprudence class has kept me going ’til this day.
First of all, let me apologize for my four months missing in action. Mr Thunder and Ms Rain are on their way, hence, I have to finish this before they found me. Or, if I’m daring enough to write this under their nose (Eek, if they ever have a nose lol)…
I’ve done some manuscript editing and then put it aside cos’ I have something in mind that I have to do, or else it’ll be like a raven crow pecking my head wherever I go.
WanderInkZ Creative Services – I’ve set up this small business venture on Facebook to sell my framed and printed poems, instead of printing them in a chapbook. This is for those who wish to purchase my work individually, of course it’s not as cheap as a chapbook. Having said so, I’ve spent all my time to choose the best photo frame, beautifully designed papers, of which some I designed on my own, using fabric tapes, lace tapes and other ornaments, in order to provide the best and well-decorated artwork…in writing. I’m also taking in personalized poems ordering. This business will also branching into writing motivational poems, poetry editing services and poetry writing workshop. Do check the page out and click a ‘Like’ (truly appreciate that): https://www.facebook.com/wanderinkzCS
ZiggyZag Arms Poetry Journal – It says it all, as a published poet besides volunteering for Eastlit to be part of the editorial board member, I’ve started my own online poetry journal. It aims to publish under-represented and emerging Asian descent poets around the world (even if you’re half Asian, you’re welcome to submit). The publication months are February, April, June, August, October and December. Do check the website: http://ziggyzagarmspoetryjournal.weebly.com. Facebook ‘Like’ us (truly appreciate that): https://www.facebook.com/ziggyzagarmsPJ
Stay tune for more of me and my other baby-ventures…
Took a detour this morning and found
a missing alphabet at the bus stop,
Is it a sign for the missing puzzle
that I am actually your missing rib
the one I’ve been searching for the longest time?
I can be blunt about a thing called love,
Now I’m saying, please don’t leave; don’t go
It’s not the time, not until I stand before you,
saying: ‘You are mine and now I’m yours’,
and then drenched in each others’ embrace.
You’re the reason I woke up to every happiness,
that my world no more an anti-clockwise,
In the cruelest iridescent I see rainbow
adjoining pieces of you and me, along the way
to a place only where we two belong.
This heart I had opened to let you in,
Stay with me for as long as you wish,
I can always walk away
but here I am choose to believe.
Though the fear is suffocating,
You cast them all away, I don’t know how
but you did it like no one has ever attempted.
I see our footprints on the sand,
In this leap of faith, I’m with you
to walk the eggshell path,
Our hands and feet are bound,
With memories, these hearts beat aloud.
In the brink of darkness, our tears
eager to weave through a second chance,
It’s all so clear that happiness is ahead of us,
Tomorrow is ours to partake. A toast to every sunrise
and sunset that had surpassed,
count them with our faith and in Him we shall trust.
Took a trip to your hometown,
Where you promised to show me around,
By the fountain we’d danced,
a lovely duet of miles and miles apart.
Challenge me the difference between winter and spring,
Before you leave me with Summer the stranger,
‘Two in One Soul’ is unknown to a Scarlet Letter,
but it has envisaged in confusion and bittersweet.
At the playground, of smiling nose and lips,
Men and women sharing the responsibilities,
building merrily institution for their children,
This maternal clock is ticking like a nuclear atomic.
I had scribbled lyrical poems on random basis,
on the notebook you gave me when we first met,
I put my hand on this half-beating heart,
Eyes on the tilted artwork by the dune,
‘My love, I miss you so.’
Kiss when your cigarette’s dying
Sing when my eyes are laughing
This weekend dress I’m putting on
Zip the ribbon that turns you on —
Name our child over the cereal bowl
Cross the thorny continents
Miles and miles to prove my worth
only to realise you’re uneasy to find —
Black is where love has gone to hide
Weaving into this messy trail to fight
each of our phony confession
like orphans of forgotten loneliness.
Saw your words
upon the neon screen of fame,
put on that ear to ear smile,
Not for me only
but for the rest of your
beautiful boys and girls —
Separately, we will write
our chapter to make
a better today;
from this moment on
forget about tomorrow
for a little while,
right here and right now
say grace and give thanks.