Poetry/quality

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Question
QUESTION: Dear Ms. Scoyoc;
In your opinion is the following partial piece of high enough quality for me to seriously seek publication?  This is a "dark" piece, even macabre, one of several I've written in this same
vein, but I've not limited my efforts to this specific genre ...


In the park I’d been all day
Reading all my time away
On a park bench did I sit
Until the sky became twilit

As light for reading began to wane
I heard the tapping of a cane.
And looking up, to find that sound
‘T was an old man which my eyes found

Bent of stature, with shuffling gait
And cane helping support his weight
He moved toward me in twilight glow
The beard he donned was white as snow

His hooded cloak there in place
Hid from view his bearded face
But … he moved on steadily
And closer then he came to me.

My gaze shifted to my book
As his passage overtook
My presence and my train of thought
On that park bench I had sought. ...

ANSWER:
Greetings, Jack and thanks for your question.

The poem isn't bad. Some of the rhyming is strained, but it's a rather offbeat and neatish read.

However...I will warn you about poetry...it's not something that you can or will make a living at.

I have been a poet for over 33 years, have had my poems used as song lyrics, have had them appear in books with everything from photographer's works, to spoken word on radio programs, to used in videos, and even two different styles of greeting card lines, and I have yet to see anything from it.

I publish poetry in my magazine, Twisted Dreams...http://twisteddreamsmagazine.blogspot.com/ but I am one of the few magazines left, that does. Most other magazines have given up on it, as it's a dying art.

Not to be a downer...but make sure that you write poetry because you love it...not because you expect to make money at it.

Best of luck...

Andrea Dean Van Scoyoc

---------- FOLLOW-UP ----------

QUESTION: Ms. Scoyoc;

I am grateful for both the content of your reply, and the alacrity of its’ delivery.  Your comments reveal the literary wisdom provided by your experiences and your advice, which I will follow, I find to be sound.

The love of poetry has been with me for decades, and I have decided, after reading your posts, regarding publishers being less interested in pursuing revenue generation from poetry, privately funded publishing is my best avenue of pursuit.  Too, there is the availability of e-book formats.  

In this reply, I have included the complete poem containing the excerpt I sent in my initial contact.

Again, thank you so much for sharing your expertise.

Jack Clark



In the park I’d been all day
Reading all my time away
On a park bench did I sit
Until the sky became twilit

As light for reading began to wane
I heard the tapping of a cane.
And looking up, to find that sound
‘T was an old man which my eyes found

Bent of stature, with shuffling gait
And cane helping support his weight
He moved toward me in twilight glow
The beard he donned was white as snow

His hooded cloak there in place
Hid from view his bearded face
But … he moved on steadily
And closer then he came to me.

My gaze shifted to my book
As his passage overtook
My presence and my train of thought
On that park bench I had sought.

Then, unexpectedly,
I found the man right next to me
The hooded shroud was still in place
Preventing me to see his face.

Without a word the man sat down
And to my face that brought a frown
This bench I wanted not to share!
Yet he sat down without a care.

In protest was I about to speak
When he lifted his hand antique
And then in voice commanding low:
“I’ve something you should know”.

By his voice was I hypnotized
My entire being was tranquilized
I stared at antique hands so pale
Then began the old man’s tale:

“You’ll find a house not far from here
Filled with loathing, filled with fear
And you might wonder how I know
My presence here makes it so”.

“The house, it sits on Wilsons’ Hill
All abandoned, cold and still,
Trees stay barren, grass won’t grow
And constantly do ill winds blow.”

“Birds won’t fly, dogs won’t walk
Stray cats don’t even stalk
Across or near that House of Hate …
Listen now … it’s getting late!”

“From deep within that house at night
Emits an eerie, glowing light
Oh, that light … I know it well,
It’s emitted - straight from Hell!”

“Once a man of youth was I
Having aspirations to the sky,
And senses of immortality
And those of curiosity.”

“‘T was one summer long ago
On a dare I was to go
Walk inside that House of Hate
Then return to re-instate,”

“Our belief and then decree
The house contained but normalcy.
I took the dare - I walked inside,
And since then … I there abide.”

“Now, ’tis only once a year
That I’m allowed to quickly veer
Outside its walls, and rusted gate
And find someone to share my fate”

“To embrace the horror I’ve endured
To expand the evil I’ve assured
To return with me and be my mate
And share the Evil House of Hate.”

The old man then turned his head,
And as I looked, with growing dread,
His hooded shroud moved in place …
At last I saw his bearded face.

Within two hollows dark as night
His eyes were embers burning bright
And just before he cast his spell
In those embers I saw Hell !

Reaching forth his ancient hand
Whose touch would be my deadly brand
I jumped back, as I screamed
I was quick, but slow it seemed.

I grabbed the cane, swinging hard
And caught the man quite off guard
I heard the thud, and filled with fear
For his status was now unclear

But … for all the things I feared
I found the man had … disappeared.
No shoes, no cloak … it was plain
Left only was his walking cane.

Many years of time have passed
And I can tell you now at last
‘T was the cane that held my fate:
I live now, in the House of Hate.

And now, too, I will stride
Through that park and take a ride
On a soul of someone there
And to you, dear reader, I say … BEWARE!

Answer

Hello, Jack, and thanks for your response. That's why I volunteer here...to help and give people a no-nonsense idea of how hard the publishing/writing industry really is.

Far too many people like to gloss over the reality..which isn't very pretty once you remove the rose-colored glasses.

Here is the link to my magazine, Twisted Dreams:

Twisted Dreams Magazine

Please follow my guidelines and I'll be happy to take a more in-depth look at your poem.

Kind Regards...

Andrea

Poetry

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Andrea Dean Van Scoyoc

Expertise

I can answer all questions on the writing of standard prose (rhyming) poetry, formatting, stanzas and rhyming issues. I have limited knowledge of the writing of freestyle poetry (non rhyming poetry--because I do not see it as poetry and therefore have no use for it) so I may or may not be able to help you with the writing of it, but can help with the formatting of it. My knowledge lies extensively in the workings of standard prose poetry. I CAN NOT help you (so PLEASE do not waste my time or yours) with the following types of questions: 1. "What is the name of this poem/what poem-book, etc is this line from" 2. Where can I find "such and such" book 3. Homework questions. For instance: "Show me an example of", "Define 'this' for me," "What does this mean", etc. These are homework questions easily searchable by the Internet where answers are more than likely already provided. I WILL NOT DO YOUR HOMEWORK FOR YOU!!! My expertise is on the WRITING of rhyming poetry only.

Experience

Acclaimed poet. Published for 20 years. Poetry Editor for the world famous Chancery House. My poetry appears on their e-cards.

Publications
In the Garden of Death by Michelle Moore. My poetry was used as an accompaniment to her cemetery photography. My poetry graces the fabulous e-cards for the Chancery House My poetry appears on the Love in 3-D e-cards Number of poems published on Sensual Venus Published in NexGen Pulp Magazine

Education/Credentials
Experienced poet of over 20 years, acclaimed and a recognized name in the industry of prose poetry for many years.

Past/Present Clients
Far too many to name through my magazine Worlds Within Worlds Beyond. I have aided many poetry careers thanks to contributor's work appearing in my magazine.

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