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October 2018 Guest Editor/s are SHE SPEAKS UK!!! Theme/s: GENDER & REVOLUTION

Burning House Press are excited to welcome SHE SPEAKS UK as our October guest editors!!! As of today She Speaks will take over editorship of Burning House Press online for the full month of October.

Submissions for She Speaks are open from today – 1st October and will remain open until 24th.

She Speaks Theme/s for the month are as follows

 

GENDER & REVOLUTION

 

She Speaks have introduced their theme/s for your guidance:

 

Gender & Revolution

“If I didn’t define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people’s fantasies for me and eaten alive.”

  • Audre Lorde

“No real social change has ever been brought about without a revolution… Revolution is but thought carried into action.”

  • Emma Goldman (Writer and Anarchist)

What does gender look like to you? If gender is a construct, how would you deconstruct it? If you could re-write or reframe gender norms, would you? What would your world look like? What changes, if any, would you like to see?

What does revolution look like? Why is it important and what changes are needed?

We want you to use words or images to investigate gender, revolution, or both. You could draw on personal experiences, historical / her-storical narratives, imagined environments or cultural commentary. We welcome voices that represent different worldviews, beliefs and geographical locations.

We want art that breaks rules; that challenges patriarchy; that expresses personal struggle; that exposes the impact of cultural norms. Don’t be afraid to break out of your comfort zone and push the boundaries.

We can’t wait to see your submissions.

Love,

She Speaks

x

Continue reading “October 2018 Guest Editor/s are SHE SPEAKS UK!!! Theme/s: GENDER & REVOLUTION”

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BELONGING//RETURNING//RETREATING EDITION – SELECTED/CURATED/PRESENTED BY SEPTEMBER 2018 GUEST EDITOR RACHAEL DE MORAVIA

What a month! Burning House Press would like to thank September’s Guest Editor RACHAEL DE MORAVIA for selecting, curating and presenting an INCREDIBLE array of writing and art on the theme/s BELONGING//RETURNING//RETREATING – and for all of the endeavour and hard work that has gone into managing the high volume of contributions received over the month  –  and the wonderful way Rachael has engaged with, and encouraged, submitters to BHP – THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING, RACHAEL!!!

Massive thank you also goes to everyone who contributed to Rachael’s theme/s and all who continue to send BHP your  writing and art – we are so happy and grateful that you entrust us with your work, thank you!!! xX

Here it is, the BELONGING//RETURNING//RETREATING EDITION – every selection in one place for you to read/peruse – enjoy!!! xX

Continue reading “BELONGING//RETURNING//RETREATING EDITION – SELECTED/CURATED/PRESENTED BY SEPTEMBER 2018 GUEST EDITOR RACHAEL DE MORAVIA”

Three poems by Adrian Ernesto Cepeda

¿A Dónde Vas?

She asked watching me
float farther away through
the Great Lakes as I crossed
rivers in Mississippi… Rios
Grande, passing through oceans
Atlantic, in France it was all
about the Seine even the Salton
could see… I would drift further
inside every time with every wave
hoping with each low and high
tide, I could finally find the current
flow of my own rio. Although
I would sail alone, I felt her stirring
aviso’s as I rowed, I always paddled
deeper rippling to create surges
of poems skin pruned, frio waves
her treasured reminders always
carry me sailing towards
home. Continue reading “Three poems by Adrian Ernesto Cepeda”

Saudades de Rio by Eva Rosenn

Does it haunt your dreams, or become like a pebble in your shoe?
The dark glossy leaves of the jeniparana,
The bright pink flowers of the bougainvillea,
The explosion of sugar of the banana ouro hacked from the tree?

Remember hiding in hammocks pretending to nap,
Chasing sandcrabs and stepping in pitch,
Visiting your sister’s pet monkey at the animal hospital—
An extended veranda filled with macaws screaming?

My pearl-crusted tutu for Carnival, the drumbeat of the sambas,
The pelting of the rain against the windshield with no wipers,
The salt of the ocean and the syrup of grape Fanta?

Explain choking on Cornflakes and powdered milk
Or taking the bus to the favela to pick out a live chicken
To our kids with American grocery stores.

Continue reading “Saudades de Rio by Eva Rosenn”

Three poems by Mark Goodwin

February 29th 1933

The saddest thing for the English to bear, is not what they have lost, but instead
what they know has not yet been found, but is nevertheless enduring in the shadows.
– Derrick Adderage

The house has slid here
to this wide street-middle; it floats
like a dark ship on smooth wet tarmac; it splits
the road that seems to flow slowly

either side of it.

The houses lining the street shrink
as this one house inflates
with where it came from.

And him. Continue reading “Three poems by Mark Goodwin”

Three poems by Mingji Liu

Rewinds

Peel open and peek:

inside the flapping, lolling mouth
of our mother’s photo album.

laminated with a sticky-wash skin
in grainy, colour-locked glamours.

encircled as we are, backlit and gypsy-like,
upon the retina of her old kodak.

Leaf through and look:

at our mother’s postgrad bungalow,
and the cats she found and raised alone.

and here, in burnout red, our ex-brothers,
with their lucid, low alley guitars.

and these polaroids of nameless children,
in some backyard mummery we long forgot.

Browse, then burrow:

deep into this picture house novel,

framed by weddings. birthdays. sleepovers.
reunions. divorces. second-hand toyotas.
painted kitchens. political borders. the first dog we ever got.

Then her final photo. Book ends.
Snap shut.
The film roll clicks.
And our lives rewind again.

Continue reading “Three poems by Mingji Liu”

Reunion by V.C. McCabe

The sickly stomach heat
of inescapable guilt
pushes me through the door,

brick in belly, heart on sleeve,
succulent hors d’oeuvres for
ravenous vultures waiting

to cannibalise with freshly
sharpened fangs and claws. Continue reading “Reunion by V.C. McCabe”

Softness as a cosmology by Rishi Dastidar

1. There is nothing soft in the universes.

2. There wasn’t at the start, certainly, unless you count the unexpected wobble that got us going to be some sort of expression of care from a creator we will never see nor hear from ever again.

3. All the energy unleashed becoming skids of hot gas becoming swirls of hot rock having what we will later describe as celestial pub fights, no there is no softness there. Continue reading “Softness as a cosmology by Rishi Dastidar”

Familiar Road by Daniel Fraser

Icy evening, drunk but not too drunk,
a blur of lights round Hollingworth, where blue
unhappy boats skim the winter lake.
Your breath gleams up the window of your
unkempt Volvo estate, the dark red hulk,
snug vessel which covered our childhood miles,
expanses doled out in weekend tropes:
car-boot sales, bacon-sausage-egg,
scalds of tea in Styrofoam and
fish fried in brown batter. Continue reading “Familiar Road by Daniel Fraser”

Fifty Years Later by Kate Wooddell

Whiteness.
Walls gleaming stark with
fresh paint against dusty old tiger murals
while white hairs stroll the halls.  Artificially
whitened
smiles, untanned
skin, some hospital pallid, all
sans melanin.  The most distinguishing characteristic
we share. The pallor
of our segregated shame. Continue reading “Fifty Years Later by Kate Wooddell”

The farm will have us always by Richard Winters

Winters.Mother.c

Mother

The air at 4:30 is cool and lightless, the Moon is waning gibbous, low in the south in Capricornus, and in the southwest, Jupiter is descending in Ophiuchus. And Mother came to see the tiger lilies yesterday, they are blooming beside the pond, marking the farm’s July. Continue reading “The farm will have us always by Richard Winters”

One plus one is two point three by Caroline Stockford

 

for poem14

 

Continue reading “One plus one is two point three by Caroline Stockford”

Three poems by Wanda Deglane

August
August is second-degree burns / from hands grazing against metal / it is waking from sweat-dripping nightmares / and no more room for intimacy / August is a silent scarring / a tension you can taste / stinking rotten in the air / it is a dozen new bruises / peppering my limbs every morning / how my mother wished she could see / a little more color in me / so I show her my arms / my legs / my neck / I beg her, make him leave / please / I won’t come home unless he’s gone / her smile is thin but gorilla glued / she says, I’m just so tired of fighting / can’t we pretend a little more instead? / I board myself up forty miles east / I eat this fake-happy like smoke-staining fruit / soft hair after downpour / and dreams of scissor-stabs tucked neat between my ribs / my brother no longer speaking to me / and forgetting to wake up tomorrow / it’s rush hour in hell / a car swerves to miss me / driver screaming, watch where you’re going / are you trying to die? / I look back at him, doe-like / his honks still blaring in my ears / I have nothing to say.

Continue reading “Three poems by Wanda Deglane”

Strangers in Strange Spaces by Mercy Ananeh-Frempong

I am a sample of millions, billions. I am this sample soaking in these vivid visions and complexities of minds lost at sea. These eyes gaze long and absent mindedly at nothing, and for moments on end, realize that everything is familiar and alien at once. These eyes, tormented by meaninglessness, seek that which they know not. What the hell are we doing here? Who are all these beings floating through these spaces? Once upon a hazy memory, home was a shape-shifting mask bent out of proportion. Once upon a memory blooming, home was the love of life, the love of this life. Continue reading “Strangers in Strange Spaces by Mercy Ananeh-Frempong”

Three poems by Jude Marr

Dispatch From an Altered State

this place is a contagion: I can’t
read here: only
despair: no time remains for new words: only old
obscenities: only enemies
are recognizable: their animus flares: their crabbed
hands pluck at my dis-ease: I lie
under heavy blankets, red raw railing—
Continue reading “Three poems by Jude Marr”

The Angel to the Seabird Sings by Sarah Wallis

The Angel to the Seabird Sings

Continue reading “The Angel to the Seabird Sings by Sarah Wallis”

Berceuses by Petero Kalulé

Dementia

 

       come to mind cloud

come to cloud mind – Marie Ponsot

 

& every now

& then,

i sit by her feet, on her porch

never ever talking.

 

& together,

we watch the soughing

heavens  mutter, str-

etching their

cotton-silvers

 

in lulls  & retorts

of

nearly went  & nearly wait

– crossed & crossed all over.

Continue reading “Berceuses by Petero Kalulé”

‘Some Things’ – A BURNING HOUSE PRESS interview with PANYA BANJOKO – by Trevor Wright

IMG_2021

Who is Panya the Poet and what does she do?

I am a writer, primarily, and an archivist. I mainly write poetry although I have written some children’s stories and I’m toying with a novel.  I also run Nottingham Black Archive and as part of that, a Black Writers Network. It’s all about raising awareness, helping with professional development and showcasing local black talent through a range of different initiatives. Read a Black Author for example which happens in October and where people are invited to read together in Slab Square. I organised a poetry weekender for Windrush 70 featuring Kei Miller then looking do a Festival next year – not just poetry but MC’s, grime and singers because we’re network of all kinds of writers.  I want to showcase the talent, because that’s just not happening. Continue reading “‘Some Things’ – A BURNING HOUSE PRESS interview with PANYA BANJOKO – by Trevor Wright”

Last of the Barbary Lions and other poems; a haibun sequence by Rico Craig

Last of the Barbary Lions

 

ii.

There’s no Hippocratic Oath for vets;

in this world a man is what morals make him. I’m indentured to a thug

with a pocket full of mobile phones,

two weeks into a handshake pact of pills and powders.

I’ve been paid to wait, collude

in the plaza haze, my feet

kicking alleys of August wind.

Perched on a stool in Calle Melos limestone glower,

watching ocean and sea blur in the Strait.

I’m doling tablets to door knocks,

cutting chorizo with a necktie knife; listing

on a nightly lullaby of horse tranquillisers.

I breathe in the dry air, breath out

a stem of opioid desire

and settle at the bar,

petals in my mouth.

This is my last night swallowing broken Spanish,

feet on the solstice line

a half step ahead of winter shade.

The ferries from Morocco

are on endless loop, red hulls

split sky and sea.

  Continue reading “Last of the Barbary Lions and other poems; a haibun sequence by Rico Craig”

September 2018 Guest Editor Is RACHAEL DE MORAVIA!!! Theme/s: BELONGING // RETURNING // RETREATING

Burning House Press are excited to welcome RACHAEL DE MORAVIA as our eighth guest editor! As of today Rachael will take over editorship of Burning House Press online for the full month of September.

Submissions for Rachael are open from today – 1st September and will remain open until 23rd September.

Rachael’s Theme/s for the month are as follows

 

BELONGING // RETURNING // RETREATING

Continue reading “September 2018 Guest Editor Is RACHAEL DE MORAVIA!!! Theme/s: BELONGING // RETURNING // RETREATING”

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