Category Archives: Publishing

“Tuesday Afternoon at Magpie’s Grill”

This post was originally published when I was thrilled to have a new poem up at Nine Muses Poetry. This poem was written about my occasional time spent writing poetry at Magpie’s and named, appropriately, “Tuesday Afternoon at Magpie’s Grill.” The journal is long-since out of business, but before that happened the editor, Annest Gwilym, nominated this poem for Best of the Net.

I decided to open my book Rooted and Winged with the poem because it fit so well my theme of the tension between the metaphorical desire to fly and our earth-bound lives.

Since the poem can no longer be found at the site of the journal, here it is:

Tuesday Afternoon at Magpie’s Grill

Flickering afternoon light slatted and parsed.

At 3PM, the booths empty except for me

and my notebook.

Would I notice if not for my companion,

my need to recognize and remember?

Without a record, will I hear the ice crashing

into the sink, the Dodger talk at the bar

at the end of the room under the Miller Lite

neon confident and beckoning?

My mother used to say about me,

In one ear and out the other, as if the words

flowed through me without stopping,

without truly entering me, leaving little

effect, as if I had no memory

of all the little parental transgressions.

Why am I not under the sycamore I spot

through the blinds in this Tuesday sunshine

listening to the very song with the shady tree?

What have I done with my life? When

I should have written a poem, I didn’t.

When I did, I didn’t get it quite right.

How can a poem do so many things:

wishing for the shade and thirsty for a beer,

feeling an urge to move my pen and noting

the tiny feet and brush of cuticle,

the solitary fly on my bare arm, while

imagining the chattering of the birds that swoop

from sycamore to jacaranda as if the parking lot

and dumpsters and broken bottles don’t exist.

No matter what I notice,

no matter what I record, I will never

capture the ease of wind-filled wings,

tail feathers a translucent backlit fan,

as my hollow bones jettison the detritus

to fly upward against the source.

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Microfiction Published by Bright Flash Literary Review

Today, I have a new microfiction up at Bright Flash Literary Review. This 150-word story is called “Detective Work” and features an evidence board.

Here is the link: https://brightflash1000.com/2023/09/07/detective-work/

close up shot of a person pointing at evidence board
Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

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Micro Story Published by Paragraph Planet

Today (August 31, UK time) I have a new microfiction up at Paragraph Planet. The daily stories are 75 words each–and that includes the title.

This story is about the creative spirit that only can die out with the person.

Caregiver, carer hand holding elder hand woman in hospice care. Philanthropy kindness to disabled concept.Public Service Recognition Week

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Remedios Varo Micro Stories Published by The Ekphrastic Review

I am very excited to see five of my Remedios Varo inspired micro stories published at The Ekphrastic Review! A huge thank you to EIC Lorette C. Luzajic for this and more. Each tiny story is accompanied by the art that inspired it. Some of these, like the one last week in Bending Genres, are about poets. I am pretty proud of all my Varo stories and think they are some of my best work. Whether or not they are to your taste is another matter. They tend toward the sarcastic. I hope you do like them, though!

https://www.ekphrastic.net/the-ekphrastic-review/five-microfiction-after-remedios-varo-by-luanne-castle

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Micro Story Published by Bending Genres

As I have been pursuing my new passion of microfiction, I have also been having fun with ekphrastic writing, and my favorite artist to work with is the surrealist Remedios Varo. The amazing journal Bending Genres has published a story I wrote based on a Varo painting; it concerns the idea of writing or art muses that are not complacent “nice” creatures. This story also happens to be completely indebted to Sylvia Plath and her poem, “The Disquieting Muses.” My story is called “Disquieting Muses with Pets and Fruit: A Still Life.”

https://bendinggenres.com/disquieting-muses-with-pets-and-fruit-a-still-life/?fbclid=IwAR2MK7lOqXuXP9O4SEuYeTZ9MyJ8mzRxAMc5jv2p5zsYe_8nrm9xxrCOpAs

The Varo painting is called “Vegetarian Vampires.” Here is the Plath poem:

The Disquieting Muses

Mother, mother, what illbred aunt
Or what disfigured and unsightly
Cousin did you so unwisely keep
Unasked to my christening, that she
Sent these ladies in her stead
With heads like darning-eggs to nod
And nod and nod at foot and head
And at the left side of my crib?

Mother, who made to order stories
Of Mixie Blackshort the heroic bear,
Mother, whose witches always, always,
Got baked into gingerbread, I wonder
Whether you saw them, whether you said
Words to rid me of those three ladies
Nodding by night around my bed,
Mouthless, eyeless, with stitched bald head.

In the hurricane, when father’s twelve
Study windows bellied in
Like bubbles about to break, you fed
My brother and me cookies and Ovaltine
And helped the two of us to choir:
“Thor is angry: boom boom boom!
Thor is angry: we don’t care!”
But those ladies broke the panes.

When on tiptoe the schoolgirls danced,
Blinking flashlights like fireflies
And singing the glowworm song, I could
Not lift a foot in the twinkle-dress
But, heavy-footed, stood aside
In the shadow cast by my dismal-headed
Godmothers, and you cried and cried:
And the shadow stretched, the lights went out.

Mother, you sent me to piano lessons
And praised my arabesques and trills
Although each teacher found my touch
Oddly wooden in spite of scales
And the hours of practicing, my ear
Tone-deaf and yes, unteachable.
I learned, I learned, I learned elsewhere,
From muses unhired by you, dear mother,

I woke one day to see you, mother,
Floating above me in bluest air
On a green balloon bright with a million
Flowers and bluebirds that never were
Never, never, found anywhere.
But the little planet bobbed away
Like a soap-bubble as you called: Come here!
And I faced my traveling companions.

Day now, night now, at head, side, feet,
They stand their vigil in gowns of stone,
Faces blank as the day I was born,
Their shadows long in the setting sun
That never brightens or goes down.
And this is the kingdom you bore me to,
Mother, mother. But no frown of mine
Will betray the company I keep.

This Plath poem is also an ekphrastic poem, inspired by the Giorgio de Chirico painting, also called “The Disquieting Muses.”

How is that for a chain of art inspiration?

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A 3rd Poem Up at MasticadoresUSA

Thanks to Editor Barbara Leonard, MasticadoresUSA has published my poem “Screaming.” https://masticadoresusa.wordpress.com/2023/05/09/screaming-by-luanne-castle/

person s shadow
Photo by Nadi Lindsay on Pexels.com

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A Love Poem to My Cat and #TankaTuesday

I had a poem published today in a cool Australian lit mag. It’s called Trash to Treasure Lit, and the idea behind it is that “every writer has a piece of ‘trash’ that we can treasure.” Look through your drafts, your poems you figured you could never do right by, and if you can write something that explains why this “trash” can be a “treasure,” they might publish it. In my case, I wrote a love poem to my cat Perry, who as you may know, suffers from a couple of terminal illnesses (so far so good in case you’re wondering). I hope you can tell from this poem that Perry is the real treasure.

https://www.trashtotreasurelit.com/publishedpieces/perry-by-luanne-castle

Colleen Chesebro’s prompt for #TankaTuesday this week is in celebration of her 65th birthday. (Happy birthday, Colleen!) We were to create a poetic form using 65 syllables.

I created a form I will call the aînée, which is the French word for a female elder. I was going to use the Spanish word anciana, but I didn’t like the connotations which seemed less positive. Plus I like that I am honoring the French language which is a language that has originated a lot of syllabic poetry. 65 syllables are arranged this way: ten lines of six syllables each, followed by a line of 2 syllables, and a final line of 3 syllables.

Decades to Medicare, or We Count Slower Later On

The first we play and learn,

then anguish for ten more.

Finally on our own,

we screw it up or not.

Next years we develop

into who we will be.

In our forties we whine

that we are now so old.

Those next decades are fine

for comfort in ourselves.

Now count

more slowly.

You might recall that I have been submitting a poem every month to Visual Verse for their ekphrastic challenge. Here is my April poem: https://visualverse.org/submissions/dont-look-back-2/ They showcase each poem next to the inspirational art.

Finally, here is another review of Our Wolves. This review addresses the issue of abuse in some of the poems. https://impressionsininkblog.com/2023/04/13/review-our-wolves-by-luanne-castle-poeticbooktours/

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Poem Up at MasticadoresUSA

Thanks to Editor Barbara Leonard, MasticadoresUSA has published my poem “The Not Sonnet.” Of course, it is a sonnet.

This is the second poem of mine that Barbara has published. And there will be a third next month.

https://masticadoresusa.wordpress.com/2023/04/11/the-not-sonnet-by-luanne-castle/

Cactus blossom season is here. The gardener took this pic. He is a much better gardener than photographer, but you can still see how beautiful the blossoms are.

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Poem Up at The Field Guide

Thanks to Editor Amanda Marrero, The Field Guide has published my poem “A Wash is Not a Riverbed.” This poem is about the wash that runs right past my house. I think this poem would have fit in Rooted and Winged.

The poem is in six sections. Here is the first one:

I.
From overhead see a route
on an intuitive map. Scriven in earth, etched with blood and spoor.
The route is wash.
The wash is map.

A kingsnake slides its stripes
across the arroyo
in the way that a T is crossed to finish the planet. It tastes the chemical scent of its prey.

The stubbling of grasses amid stones optimistic in the hollow. We wish for custom monsoons
a steady large-drop rain and little wind.

https://thefieldguidemagazine.com/luanne-castle/

These photos of our wash show the gates we had to put up (with permission) because the javelinas were too destructive and dangerous. But all the other animals get through.

Happy Passover if you celebrate. Happy Easter if you celebrate. Ramadan Mubarak if you celebrate.

My zoom solo poetry reading is Saturday at 5PM eastern and you are invited! https://writersite.org/2023/03/27/an-invitation-to-my-first-zoom-solo-poetry-reading-and-other-stuff/

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Poem Up at Masticadores USA

Masticadores USA has published a new poem, “Before and Again.” A big thank you to Editor Barbara Leonhard. I hope you like the poem. This one is a little heavy.

Here is the first 1 1/2 stanzas:

The we of my belief lived in a land
of easy comfort, brief and surface woundings,
even when tussled by history
that lasted a month on our portable television.
 
We swept the broken pieces into piles
Thinking our bonfires would destroy memories.

https://masticadoresusa.wordpress.com/2023/03/10/before-and-again-by-luanne-castle/

broken glasses on the ground
Photo by David Geib on Pexels.com

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