18 Poetry Magazines (list) by Leanne Dyck

Looking for a publisher for your poem? Look no further than this list. Below is a list of magazines that publish poetry. Select one and send them your poem...

Click on the magazine's title and the link will take to you the submission guidelines page.

photo by ldyck

18 Poetry Magazines

The Antigonish Review

Arc Poetry magazine

Canadian Stories

Contemporary Verse 2:  The Canadian Journal of Poetry and Critical Writing

Filling Station magazine

Geist magazine

Grain magazine

Current submission period from September 15, 2019 to May 15, 2020

Island Writer magazine

Icelandic Connection magazine

'by and/or about Canadians and Americans from or relating to the Icelandic-North American cultural community'

The Malahat Review

Poetry Contest:  Far Horizons Award for Poetry 
Deadline:  May 1

Prairie Fire:  A Canadian magazine of new writing

Prism International

Ricepaper magazine

'Asian writers of all cultural backgrounds are encouraged to submit.'

Room magazine

'by women (cisgender and transgender), transgender men, Two-Spirit and nonbinary people'

Poetry Contest
Deadline:  June, 2020

The Fiddlehead magazine

The Windsor Review

More...

League of Canadian Poets

League of Canadian Poets:  Resources

The Griffin Trust for Excellence in Poetry:  Resources

Poetry Slam

How to Publish a Poetry Book (YouTube video)

Constructing Chapbooks (YouTube video)

Next Sunday evening

 

photo by ldyck

Poetry Book Publishers

Next Sunday the fun continues with a list of 33 publishers are interested in publishing poetry collections.

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Found on a walk...

'face in a tree' photo by ldyck

And this short story flew into my ear...

Laureen's Manuscript (short story) 1/4 by Leanne Dyck

I hope you enjoy part one of this four part metafiction short story. 

"Flower in my pond"

photo by Leanne Dyck 

This suburb of Victoria on Vancouver Island had no shortage of fascinating characters. And they existed in the most unlikely of places. The house was grey stucco with a concrete walk that led to a white door. Neighbors would never have guessed the adventures that occurred within its walls. People were born, lived, and died—sometimes at the hands of a murderer. Laureen Torgelson witnessed it all. Some would have said that she and her pen created it all. The adventures had begun shortly after Laureen had been laid off from her teacher-librarian position at the local high school.

Even though Laureen was well over forty, she looked much younger. Retaining youth was hard work; she wore night cream and in the morning plucked grey hairs from her temples. That is to say, she used to. Lately other people's lives had taken over hers. She loved spending time with these people. She didn't want their relationship to end, but she'd known from the start that this was the desired outcome. In fact, she'd religiously worked to achieve this goal. Still, it was with no shortage of trepidation that she'd told herself, Today is the day.

Laureen leaned towards her computer screen. She read the email she'd been writing-- checking for verb tense, spelling accuracy, and clarity of meaning. "Please accept the attached ten pages, or should it read, 'Please find'?" Laureen wondered aloud—talking to herself; that too was new.

She'd read the attached pages half a dozen times. And she recited words, phrases, and paragraphs in her sleep—annoying her husband. But he knew how much stress she was under, so he'd rolled over and tried to ignore her.

Jon often told his air traffic control co-workers. "I'd never be a writer. It's way too stressful."

Laureen rubbed the belly of the Buddha doll that sat on the windowsill beside her desk, kissed her fingers, and ran them across the computer screen before she pressed send.

"Oh, no. I shouldn't have done that. Not yet. I wasn't... It wasn't ready," she moaned five seconds later as she paced the length of the back bedroom that had become her writer's den. It's all too late, she thought and crumpled into a tight little ball in her chair.

She breathed out slowly and visualized her email travelling in cyberspace past grey granite mountaintops and through golden yellow wheat fields to a glass and steel office tower in Canada's largest city—Toronto, Ontario.

Part Two

"Beauty in my front yard"

photo by Leanne Dyck

Next post: Part two of Laureen's Submission (focus on Acquisitions Editor, Cora Green)

More...

What is metafiction? 

Answer:  click this link

Sharing my author journey...

submitting short stories (a love story) by Leanne Dyck

In memory of the gone

but not forgotten

(It snowed on Dec. 5 and it melted on Dec.10)

It's a typical love story:

Short version...
The writer notices literary journal
The writer dreams of seeing her story in the literary journal

The writer sends one of her stories to the literary journal
The writer receives an encouraging rejection letter
The writer is inspired. 
The writer writes
With fingers crossed, the writer sends another story to the literary journal

Long version...
Last July, I sent seven short stories to a list of literary journals. I waited a couple of months and then the rejection letters trickled in. Far from feeling depressed, I was inspired to write.

Why?

1)Experience has taught me that sometimes it's the story--it needs revising. But sometimes it's the literary journal--it's not the right fit.

2)I received two personalized rejection letters.

Quote...
'While we are unable to accept (name of short story) for publication, we would like to see more of your work...less than 2% (of the stories they receive) are accepted for publication...Your work was almost there.'

'Although we will not be accepting your work at this time, I wish you best of luck with future submissions'

They want more and that's exactly what I plan to send them.

3)It is extremely and increasingly difficult for aspiring writers to get published or make careers for themselves. Don’t waste time despairing this reality. Write and rewrite and when you’ve got something polished try your best to find a home for it. Don’t feel that there is something wrong with you if that journey takes longer than you’d hoped, or takes some ugly twists and turns. You must determine to write regardless of what external forces work against you, or in your favour. You must just write. If you write enough, and you write well, you will write your own way forward. --Elizabeth Ruth (Read her complete interview here)

I'm also entering contests. I enjoy entering the Women On Writing quarterly flash fiction contests. For the low price of twenty dollars not only can you enter their contest but you also receive an invaluable, detailed critique. 
I wrote that I entered but it really wasn't that easy. I needed help to achieve that goal. Thankfully Angela was there to help. I'd like to thank her and the WOW staff.

Now I like to showcase one of my favourite poets, Lord...um...er...my husband, Byron.

In my yard a garden grows
So sad that now the pond is froze
The days grow shorter and grey darkens
The winds do howl and winter harkens
I grow weary waiting for the sun to shine
And long for when it is not winter time

In my yard a garden grows
A work in progress yet it shows
'Tis not a one of shrubs and flowers
Instead a work of stones and rock towers
Water cascades down the sculpted hill
And sand in patterned rows lies still

I await the spring when roses grow
And flora blush full and waters flow
The stones piled high amid rocks grown tall
Soothed again by sounds of water all
To sit and reap in tranquil harmony
Nature's blessing of my quaint rock quarry
-Byron Dyck