Posted in Poetry, Writing

Morose Penguin Review, Issue One (and Done)

A Note From the Editor:

In the world of literary journals, it’s unheard of for every single submission to be worthy of publication, but that’s exactly what happened with Issue One (and Done) of the Morose Penguin Review. The pieces arrived for my perusal, and not once was I disappointed. (Unless I was supposed to be, in which case, I was, greatly.) The seven poems featured below were written with such dedication, such creativity, such utter moroseness, that I had no choice but to publish them all. I want to thank the poets for their contributions, the penguins for being such inspiring muses, and winter itself, for being so utterly morose.* May you find a little levity, a little light, and a little laughter from the following poems. And may the moroseness of February pass quickly.

Happy Reading,
Carie

* Please pay no attention to the fact that it is currently 65º in Austin, Texas. Trust me, the cedar allergies still make things seem quite morose.

Version 2
Bringing you gloomy poetry since 2018 (and never again, I promise)

Morose Penguin Review, Issue One (and Done)

Morose Penguins
by Emily Stubbe

Poor little penguins,
At the bottom of the Earth.
When you go south,
You also go north.

Bio: Emily is an avid reader of failed-polar-exploration non-fiction and does not discriminate based on the pole. She did not like the movie Happy Feet, but in general, has nothing against penguins.

sullen ill-tempered flightless seabird
by Brian Mahoney

white white endless snow
barren wasteland of nothing
worst part, I hate fish

Bio: Brian Mahoney lives in Texas against his will, held hostage by three Texas women. When he’s not writing poetry, which is literally 99% of the time, he enjoys talking to people, inventing perceived slights against his character, and wandering around the comic book shop.

Waiting
by Ashley B. Davis

An emperor on
a lonely throne, sharply dressed,
waiting for the one

Bio: Ashley B. Davis writes haikus about morose penguins at will. She also drinks coffee, reads, mothers twins, and blogs at www.ashleybdavis.com.

Aphorisms
by Diana Conces

it is always darkest just before dawn,
they say, but in winter it’s dark after dawn,
and not that bright at noon either.

birds of a feather flock together,
they say, but body heat brings body smells,
and none of us has bathed since summer.

grin and bear it,
they say. I may have to bear it,
but I refuse to grin about it.

it’s an ill wind that blows no good,
they say, and I agree–it’s a pretty ill wind.
I’m still waiting on the good.

no penguin is an island,
they say. I wish. I wish I was an island,
a tropical one, with plenty of fish.

this too shall pass,
they say. It had better pass soon,
or I may stab them with an icicle.

Bio: Diana L. Conces is a native Texan whose poetry has appeared in numerous print and online publications, a newspaper, and a city bus. She has a blog (https://dianalconces.blogspot.com/) and enjoys jewelry making, knitting, embroidering poetry onto fabric, and various crafty things she has been lured into by Pinterest.

Morose Penguin
by Pat Kinder

Morose Penguin, huh?
Antarctican egg cradling
Probably caused it…

Bio: Pat Kinder is a long-time consumer of chips and salsa who resides in Flower Mound, Texas, with his wife and son and daughter. He enjoys baseball, camping, and reading his sister’s blog in his spare time.

Haiku
by Claire Vogel Camargo

aimless penguin
his courtship calls unanswered
no egg to care for

Bio: Claire Vogel Camargo, author of IRIS OPENING, an ekphrastic collection, has poems in a number of journals and anthologies, a few award-winning. She lives with her husband and Great Dane.

All Dressed Up With Nowhere to Go
by Carie Juettner

Dressing is depressing
when all you have is evening wear,
especially on a continent where
icebergs are plenty
and formal parties few,
and you’re more likely to encounter
a killer whale
than a candlelit dinner for two.
I try not to get my feathers ruffled
over my limited choice of attire,
but it’s hard not to feel bleak
when icicles hang from your beak,
and there’s no Oscars invite in the mail,
and you’re dressed up in black tie and tails.

Bio: Carie Juettner is a teacher, poet, blogger, and the editor of the Morose Penguin Review. She owns no evening wear, but she does have a necklace with a penguin on it.

***

Thank you for reading the Morose Penguin Review.
Have a lovely day.

 

Posted in Poetry, Writing

Deadline Approaching: Morose Penguin Review

21 days ago, I challenged you to write poems about morose penguins, and you answered that challenge! A few of you did anyway… You answered it with passion, enthusiasm, and, most of all, a strong sense of moroseness. I was chilled just reading your responses.

The hour draws near for the rest of you to rise to the challenge. Submissions for the one, the only, Morose Penguin Review are due by midnight tomorrow night.

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Here are the guidelines:

Theme: Morose Penguins
Genres: Poetry
Deadline: January 31, 2018 (midnight CST)
How to Submit: Send one poem (any form, maximum 30 lines) and a two-sentence bio using the contact form on my website. I will read them all and publish the best. And possibly the worst.
Payment Upon Acceptance: Publication on my blog, a virtual pat on the head, and the satisfaction of knowing that you have lessened the gloom (or multiplied it, depending on your piece) of millions* of readers.
(* Actually, probably more like 100 readers.)
What I’m Looking For: Poems about morose penguins that make me laugh or smile or think or go “Aww…whoa.”

And here’s a little inspiration to get you started:

Screen Shot 2018-01-28 at 10.10.15 AM
From: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scottish_National_Antarctic_Expedition
Screen Shot 2018-01-28 at 10.54.45 AM
From: https://abinantarctica.wordpress.com/2014/01/14/gentoo-penguins/
Screen Shot 2018-01-28 at 10.59.04 AM
From: http://www.antarctica.gov.au/about-antarctica/wildlife/animals/penguins/emperor-penguins

Best of luck to you. Remember… the more-ose, the better.

 *** Click here to submit. ***

Posted in Poetry, Writing

Introducing: Morose Penguin Review

It’s that time of year. It’s cold. It’s dreary. People stopped giving you Christmas presents weeks ago. You’ve been forced to put on real clothes and go back to work, where no one is leaving prettily-wrapped homemade baked goods on your desk anymore. (What’s up with that?) You’ve just broken your first new year’s resolution, and the second one is only holding on by a thread. Plus, there’s something called “Blue Monday” looming on the horizon, which sounds like a cool new bar, but is actually just the name coined for the most depressing day of the year. As if anyone needed that added to the calendar.

In short, things are pretty gloomy.

Why not celebrate the gloom? Embrace it through art.

Last month, I posted my formula for naming a lit journal, and several of you shared your creative creations. The one that made me smile the most, however, was mine: Morose Penguin Review. I have to admit, I sort of fell in love with it. And if there’s a better publication for these gloomy late-January days, I don’t know what it is.

So here’s what I propose. Make yourself a nice cup of tea or pour yourself a double bourbon or open a five pound bag of gummy bears—whatever you indulge in, I don’t judge—and write some gloomy poetry. Because for one month (and one month only) I’m going to publish the Morose Penguin Review here on this blog.

Version 2
Bringing you gloomy poetry since 2018

Here are the guidelines. We’ll keep it simple.

Theme: Morose Penguins
Genres: Poetry
Deadline: January 31, 2018 (midnight CST)
How to Submit: Send one poem (any form, maximum 30 lines) and a two-sentence bio using the contact form on my website. I will read them all and publish the best. And possibly the worst.
Payment Upon Acceptance: Publication on my blog, a virtual pat on the head, and the satisfaction of knowing that you have lessened the gloom (or multiplied it, depending on your piece) of millions* of readers.
(* Actually, probably more like 100 readers.)
What I’m Looking For: Poems about morose penguins that make me laugh or smile or think or go “Aww…whoa.”

I realize this is a short turn-around time, but if we wait too long, winter will be over and no one will be gloomy anymore. Plus, if you get your submissions to me by the end of January, I can publish them in February which, let’s face it, is just a slog of twenty-eight blue Mondays in a row.

That’s it. Surprise me. Wow me. Make me laugh. Try not to traumatize me too terribly. Above all, have some fun and distract yourself from all the gloom. I look forward to seeing what you send me.