My college has a literary journal?

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My college has a literary journal?; And I want to do WHAT?
Topic Started: Feb 3 2009, 02:40 AM (77 Views)
Draxis	Feb 3 2009, 02:40 AM Post #1
Captain Posts: 1,356 Group: Map Makers Member #271 Joined: August 20, 2006	Hey guys, I am considering submitting several poems to my college's literary journal... I know that sounds all grandiose, but that's their own term for it. I'd just call it the college's writers publication. Anyways I am thinking of submitting two poems... well one poem and the other half poem, half memoir. So I would like ot ask your opinions of them and for any changes that you think should be made before I submit them for consideration. Tomorrow There is always tomorrow Tomorrow to tell her Tomorrow to see her Tomorrow to be with her Tomorrow is the day The day that never comes, The day full of everything Of wants and desires There is no tomorrow Only today Today is the day The day of lost chances The day of lost moments The day of unsaid words and unsung song The day of the unwritten The day that never leaves There is always tomorrow There is never today --- --- A Perfect Day... Around four in the evening I’m asked for the third time, by the third different person, if I miss her. I wonder if it was that god damn obvious, or if it was a lucky guess. The person asking was her roommate, they must have talked about these things. It is amazing what a few simple words can do as I am KO’d emotionally just as the lecture begins. I scramble trying to think of what to say, I cannot think of anything. Finally, it dawns on me, that I do miss her. I nearly storm out of the lecture. Around eleven when I finally make it to the bar my friends, Ange, Jay and Nat are already there sharing coffee and laughs. We go out for Grec sandwiches and frites. I get a greasy Grec sandwich with spicy sauce and frites, it is good. The day has started off great; today will be a good day. Around eight at night Eva has brought several bottles of wine to the table, I’ve had a few pints to compliment the current assortment of drinks crammed onto the table; we barely have enough room for our own glasses let alone more bottles. The alcohol is already having its way with me. I keep being offered wine, I am unable refuse. We finish those bottles and get more. Around half past two in the hallways after French as I wait for Ange, or Nat as they get out of class, I am not too picky who. Here, I am asked by the second person if I miss her. I just stare at them blankly as emotions rage through me. I storm off towards the bar not even bothering to answer them. A pint at the bar sounds nice. Around two in the morning my roommate Dan, Greg, and Eva come back to the room and listen to music, Greg just wants to hear one song over and over. I am the most sober person in the room, which is not a good sign. Around ten at night, the music is still blaring. I want to dance and do so… drunkenly. I am now very far into my binge. I continue to drown my sorrows in drink and dance. The empty spot in my chest still hurts. I wonder if I have hit bottom yet. I have not. Around half past one in the afternoon Nat and I see her name on the package list. We try and find out which package is hers, the front desk is swarmed; we give up and go to French. I feel over my head in class but I will get to use the French right afterwards when I go for my first pint of beer at the bar. I am asked just before class if I miss her for the first time that day. I shrug it off, but for some reason I linger on the thought of her. Around midnight I am still drinking, I feel horrible; all my emotions are coming out now, all bleeding to the surface in a tangled mess, I desperately try to keep composure. I’m a wreck, both emotionally and from the drink. By twenty past I run up to talk to Marco and Ange. They are shocked at the time and make a run for the metro. On the dash down the stairs Ange asks what is wrong and mentions that I look terrible. Like everything else, I brush it off until tomorrow. I get a few glasses of water from the bar and practice my French. Around one in the morning in an attempt to sober up I drink all the water in my room. The window looks tempting, I can see myself ramming through the open pane and falling into the silent void outside. Smiling as I fall to my death. I end up calling home just to hear a supportive voice. My roommate comes in a few times to inform me of a party just down the hall that everyone is attending. I feel utterly horrible and empty, almost subhuman, I do nothing. Around three in the afternoon I sit in the bar with Ange, Nat, Nicks and Jay we socialize with anyone who is around. I have another pint, I am at least one ahead of everyone else. We all try and cram words into our official journals for the staff. We down our cafés or pints and write as quickly as we possibly can. We discuss plans for the night. Seems everyone is hanging around the bar for the band tonight. Nat receives a gigantic bouquet from her boyfriend back home, she looks overjoyed. I laugh at its ridiculous size, and take a few happy snaps. We store it in my room until she has to drag it home on the metro. Around three in the morning Greg has already left and gone to sleep, my roommate as well has left with Eva; I do not see him until the next day. I finally drift off into sleep, feeling empty and somewhat less of a person. Around seven in the evening Marco, Jay and I run into both Eva and Mira. Someone suggests getting a bottle of wine, it sounds fun. Around ten in the morning I wake up, I feel bad, empty, like a wrung lemon, I stare at the ceiling knowing that she is gone and will not be back. Here I am alone in Paris on Valentine’s Day. Alone in my misery and despair in the capitol of romance and love. I miss her, I cannot move. I glance at the window, it looks tempting but I cannot move. I continue to stare at the ceiling until the maids, in full riot gear, kick down the door. I flee to the bar for a few drinks to drown my sorrows. -- -- While I know this goes without saying around here, constructive criticism only please. ^^ ... ... That goes double for you Kas. :P



New Harumf	Feb 3 2009, 10:11 AM Post #2
Bloodthirsty Unicorn Posts: 9,638 Group: Forum Mods Member #177 Joined: October 8, 2005	Couple of insignificant grammatical errors need to be fixed in the prose work. As depressing as it is, I'd like to see more words to make me see everything in black and white. Don't do anything, just think about it a bit. You are now done with the emotional part, now as a writer you become the detached craftsman. Examples (NOT suggestions, just examples): You use: "falling into the silent void outside" Why reference sound, why not color: "falling into the grey shadows outside" I like when you use words that reference black and white: "I nearly storm out of the lecture" starts to set the mood, but you could use a simile here: "I flee the lecture like a winter squall" Remember, I'm not saying make these particular changes, but think of making your prose more poetic. The poem: cute, it will probably get published. Nicely salted with the angst of youth. Personally, I think it is trite and lacking any resemblence to poetry, but it's the type of angst that will get printed in the journal. I like the prose piece better.


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