Guidelines



Submission Guidelines: Send 1-3 unpublished poems in the body of an email (NO ATTACHMENTS) to nvneditor[at]gmail.com. No simultaneous submissions. Use "Verse News Submission" as the subject line. Send a brief bio. No payment. Authors retain all rights after 1st-time appearance here. Scroll down the right sidebar for the fine print.
Showing posts with label bondage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bondage. Show all posts

Thursday, April 06, 2023

PASSOVER 2023

by Eric Greene


The Israelites were told that if they painted their doorposts with lamb's blood, their first-born child would not be killed by the angel.


The Angel of Death 
is running amok
 
and no amount 
of lamb’s blood
 
smeared 
on the schoolroom doors 
will keep him away
 
Columbine, Red Lake, Virginia Tech
 
No cup of sweet wine
will dull the suffering
 
Sandy Hook, Marjory Stoneman Douglas, Santa Fe
 
No bitter herb
will burn 
like a mother's pain
 
Oxford, Robb Elementary, Michigan State
 
In bondage 
once again
 
with no exodus 
in sight
 
we wait 
for the next child 
to be taken
 
The Covenant School… 
 
 
Eric Greene is a longtime member of The Southeast Michigan Poetry Workshop Group. His poems have appeared in The New Verse News and other online publications.

Wednesday, January 29, 2020

IN MEMORY OF NARROW PLACES

by Sophie Mann




Out of Egypt we came.
Mitzrayim.
Mitzrayim literally means
Narrow place.
We have come from narrow places forever
Jews have.
Minorities have.
We have come from wombs
We have come narrow passages
From doors of no return
From binaries that do not fit us.
Egypt we overcame.
Mitzrayim.
Egypt literally means
Black.
We have come from dark places forever
Jews have
Minorities have.
We have come from wombs
We have come from middle passages
From the depths of the South
From misgendering and murder.
Out of Egypt we came.
And now
It is as if we were sent back.
G-d did not part the seas this time
He did not speak to Moses
We thought we heard Him through Upshot
And Nate Silver
And everyone who consoled their friends
Their loved ones
The Jews
The minorities
That the sea would part, once more.
But it hasn't.
And while the Jews spent over 500 years in bondage
We must endure four more.
We must overcome.
And they marched and said
We will overcome.
We must march and hold each other up
Because some of us have fallen when the weight of it all became too much.
And as I sat bleary-eyed, sleepless, in the warm presence of dejected journalists
I thought to myself
We will overcome.
And when I saw the sunrise on the new world
A world that was full of hope when I entered my safe haven of journalistics and liberals and love
I remembered that
If we came out of Egypt
Mitzrayim
We can do it again
Jews can
Minorities can
Because we have come out of narrow places forever.
Jews have.
Minorities have.
We have come from wombs
We have come narrow passages
From doors of no return
From binaries that do not fit us.
Egypt we overcame.
And Egypt we will overcome.
For it is narrow now
But we will break through the walls
The wombs
The narrow passages
The binaries that don't fit us
Mitzrayim
Arm in arm.
Together.
Because out of Egypt we came
And out of Egypt we will come


Sophie Mann grew up in Palo Alto, California surrounded by love and trees good for climbing. She has a Bachelor’s in English and psychology from Northwestern University and a Master’s in learning sciences from Harvard University. She currently lives by Lake Michigan.

Saturday, September 07, 2013

BONDAGE

by Kim Baker



Cleveland kidnapper Ariel Castro was found hanged just a month after being sentenced to life in prison plus 1,000 years for holding three women captive in his home, a prison official said.  At his sentencing, he denied doing anything wrong, saying that the victims were "asking for it."  MSN.com, September 4, 2013


We don’t know yet whether he used a bed sheet,
soaked in the sweat of his fear or bravado,
no knife available to slit his wrists, too bloody,
reminder of the way he miscarried her,
no palm full of pills, too dainty for his rage and rationalization
no, this death is not poetic or pain free, does not follow
in a long line of agony and guilt self-killings,
nor a shameful addition to the history of lynching innocents,
this is the only way out for a monster wanting
to continue holding his victims in bondage
as he silences his voice that will never repent.


When she isn’t teaching the abundant virtues of the comma at Roger Williams University School of Law, writing poetry about big hair and Elvis, and doing the Cha Cha, Kim Baker works to end violence against women.  Her poems have been published online and in print and essays broadcast on NPR.  Three short plays have been stage-read at Culture*Park in New Bedford.  Kim’s first chapbook of poetry, Under the Influence:  Musings about Poems and Paintings, is now available from Finishing Line Press.  Kim is currently working on a book of ekphrasis poems about the stories and portrayals of women in the paintings of female artists.  Kim can be reached at bighairedpoet(at)gmail.com .