Poetry

Sam Cooke

By Benjamin Adair Murphy He stepped in the waterHe helped the fishes swimWhen he left those fish were singingSo of course they killed him The wrong kind of voiceThe wrong kind of skinHis car was way too prettySo of course they killed him So of course they killed himSo of course they killed him He … Continue reading Sam Cooke

Hello August

By Sarah Robin Hello August, My most productive month of the yearWith lots of harvest and preserving to do. The aroma of vinegar in the kitchen Signifies the start of pickling seasonWhen gherkins are stuffed into jars Then covered in ladel-fullsOf homemade vinegar and infusedWith fresh homegrown herbs and spices. Weekly harvests of sun-kissed tomatoesNeed turning into … Continue reading Hello August

Glass Wall

By Sarah Robin A naked figure sits hunched over on the floor,Their arms wrapped around their body.Surrounded by a wall of thick glass;Closed off from everyone and everythingBut visible to all. Muffled voices and banging fistsAttack the barrier, desperate to helpBut unable to break through;Unable to touch them or hold them close,Or provide comfort and … Continue reading Glass Wall

don’t eat the roses

By Jane Ayres a curl of clouda curda turd potency(im) potencythis shadow pain the start of the loopthe right truth?the wrong truth? don’t eat the rosesor lick the ice on the windscreen a surge of neon peachsevering the vocal chordsyour voice wraps me in silence Jane Ayres is a UK-based neurodivergent writer who completed a Creative … Continue reading don’t eat the roses

October

By Sarah Robin The crunch of leaves underfoot, Dew-damp grass in glowing light, A tang of woodsmoke and ripening compostTell us that the seasons have shifted. This step into October Is every gardeners’ new yearAs the natural cycle propels us forward.Now is the time to turn dreams into reality. The seasonal shift and dropping Temperatures herald a change of … Continue reading October

War Walked In

By Benjamin Adair Murphy I was standing in the daytimeWhen the sun went out of sightIt looked like the whole world Had fallen into nightSomething bad ‘bout to beginThat’s when war walked in There were a bunch of young thugsLooking scared and looking meanAll they wanted was a fatherAll they wanted was a sceneAll they wanted … Continue reading War Walked In

TRANSITIONS

By Mary Everitt seasons don’t change all at oncebut you can feel the start of them.the distinct shift in the air.the leaves against your window dappled with colorvibrant, paintedothers spotted so slightly they look diseased.we obsess over the romance of autumn –it is ever soambient, cozy. but do we speak of the beauty of decay?that … Continue reading TRANSITIONS

TEA

By Mary Everitt Pale yellow jasmineCracked white porcelain potWith an oily dark stain around the rubber covered spoutOm, my elderly landlord offers his wordless morning welcome.Endless cups of weak, bitter, floral water.Orange, sweet, earthy and sourIced with sugar and limeSucked down with morning noodlesAssam, steeped dark with half and halfForgotten in corners, on books, tabletopsReheated … Continue reading TEA

PRECIPITATING REST

By Mary Everitt The nighttime jazz of rainfall beatsagainst the window.Scoring another shiftinto waiting rest.Stiff-necked movementsCandle lightingBent knees evoke prayerRituals. Asking God to Take overStay overSing overMy dreams. Bodies shift into New ways of beingWeariness reaches through my skinTo pull soft fleece closerContaining, soothing, holding—The work of love in this worldAcknowledging my fragilityWithin and without Face tilts … Continue reading PRECIPITATING REST

The Constant Salesman

By Matthew A O’Shea Enough. Enough of the repeated vibrations of a cell phone,of the lack of vibrations from a cell phone,of empty inboxes in empty homes,of full inboxes in empty homes,of unexpected bills, pouring through doors,of the unexpected running out of pills,of the ticking of digital clocks,Enough of the endless knocking. Mock the salesman.Ignore … Continue reading The Constant Salesman

DNC CROCODILE DUNDEE

By Matthew A O’Shea My friend felt so sorry for alligatorsthat she wanted to die. Suicide — death by croc. And she tore into me about not wanting to come along.  She said that I had benefited just as much as Lincoln and Irwin and the otherprivileged few. I said I would attend butnot participate. Gonzo martyrdom. She … Continue reading DNC CROCODILE DUNDEE

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Poetry Guidelines

Please send 1 – 5 unpublished poems, with each poem exceeding no more than a single page, in a .doc or .docx format. No .pdfs please! Poems should follow the general submission guidelines, as well as being single spaced and using a standard font. Please note that your formatting may be changed to match Goat’s Milk formatting and to work in our digital format. We strongly suggest against submitting any work that relies on unique or specific spacing structures, as we are unable to format posts in WordPress that way. Multiple works should be submitted as a single document, with page breaks and titles to indicate where one poem ends and the next begins.

Any and all accompanying art or photography is strongly encouraged! The header image should be in a 2:1 ratio and black and white, please. Additional images and multi-media should be sent separately from the .doc or .docx, no .pdfs. Please indicate where you want accompanying art to be placed in poems.

Send poetry submissions to goatsmilksubmissions@gmail.com.

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