One of the remarkable things about poetry is its ability to preserve moments that might otherwise slip away. A porch light at dusk. The smell of a summer garden. A conversation remembered years later. The people who shape us, even after they’re gone.
Gabby Gilliam’s debut collection, No Ocean Spit Me Out, is filled with those moments.
Across thirty poems, Gilliam explores family, memory, faith, grief, and the gradual process of becoming ourselves. Returning again and again to the landscapes of childhood and the relationships that continue to echo through adulthood, her poems remind us that our earliest experiences rarely leave us. Instead, they become part of the stories we carry throughout our lives.
What makes this collection especially moving is its honesty. Gilliam writes with warmth and clarity, allowing ordinary experiences to reveal extraordinary emotional depth. Whether she’s reflecting on family traditions, wrestling with loss, or finding beauty in everyday life, each poem invites readers to pause and recognize something of themselves.
As both a poet and novelist, Gabby Gilliam brings a storyteller’s eye to every page, creating poems that are richly imagined while remaining deeply personal. No Ocean Spit Me Out is a memorable debut from a writer whose work reminds us that our most meaningful journeys often begin at home.
If you’re looking for poetry that is thoughtful, heartfelt, and quietly unforgettable, No Ocean Spit Me Out is a wonderful place to begin.
Mention social media to a group of poets and you’ll likely get a wide range of reactions. Some embrace it enthusiastically. Others tolerate it reluctantly. A few would happily throw their phones into the nearest lake if they thought it would help them write more poems.
If you’re trying to build a readership, social media can be a useful tool. The challenge is remembering that it is a tool, not a destination.
Many writers approach social media with unrealistic expectations. They assume they need thousands of followers, viral posts, or a constant stream of content in order to be successful. In reality, most poets build readership the same way they build literary communities: slowly, one connection at a time. Poets with fifty engaged readers who genuinely care about their work are often in a stronger position than someone with thousands of followers who rarely interact with what they post. Readers matter more than numbers.
One of the most common mistakes poets make is treating every post as a sales pitch. Constantly asking people to buy a book, attend an event, or subscribe to a newsletter can quickly exhaust an audience. Social media works best when it feels like a conversation rather than an advertisement. Consider sharing parts of your writing life instead. Talk about a poem you’re working on. Share a favorite line from a poet you admire. Discuss a recent reading you attended. Recommend a literary journal. Celebrate another writer’s success. Give people a reason to follow you beyond the occasional book announcement.
It is also important to remember that not every platform serves the same purpose. Some poets enjoy Instagram’s visual focus. Others prefer Facebook groups, Bluesky, Substack, Threads, or TikTok. Rather than trying to maintain a presence everywhere, choose one or two platforms that feel comfortable and sustainable.
One of the most effective ways to use social media is to join existing communities rather than trying to build an audience from scratch. Look for groups dedicated to poetry, books, literary journals, reading challenges, independent publishing, or genres that align with your work. Readers are already gathering in these spaces. Your goal is not to convince everyone to read your poetry. Your goal is to find the people who already enjoy poetry and become part of the conversation.
The key is to participate as a community member first and a writer second. Read what others post. Offer encouragement. Share recommendations. Celebrate successes. Ask thoughtful questions. People are far more likely to become interested in your work when they know you as a person rather than someone who appears only to promote a book or drop a link. In other words, don’t treat social media groups as billboards. Treat them as communities. The strongest literary relationships often develop through genuine conversations that have little to do with selling anything at all.
Consistency generally matters more than volume. Posting once or twice a week for a year will often accomplish more than posting twenty times a day for two weeks and then disappearing for six months. Readers appreciate reliability far more than intensity. Social media can also be a valuable way to discover opportunities. Many literary journals, bookstores, festivals, workshops, and reading series announce events through their social media accounts. Following organizations you admire can help you stay informed about submission calls, readings, contests, and publishing opportunities.
At the same time, poets should be careful not to confuse visibility with productivity. It is possible to spend hours discussing writing online without actually writing. Most readers ultimately care about the poems themselves, not the number of posts that appeared along the way.
One helpful question to ask is this: “Would I still do this if nobody clicked ‘like’?” If the answer is yes, you’re probably using social media in a healthy way. If the answer is no, it may be worth reconsidering how much time and emotional energy you’re investing in the platform.
It is also important to remember that social media tends to reward attention-grabbing content, while poetry often rewards reflection, patience, and subtlety. A post that receives little engagement is not necessarily unimportant. Likewise, a viral post is not necessarily meaningful. The value of your work cannot be measured by an algorithm.
For many poets, the healthiest approach is to view social media as a bridge rather than a home. Use it to connect with readers, discover opportunities, support fellow writers, and share your work. Then log off and return to the page.
The poets who seem most comfortable online are often those who understand this balance. They participate in conversations, support their communities, and remain visible, but they do not allow social media to become the center of their creative lives.
In the end, readers are built through relationships, not algorithms. Social media can help create those relationships, but it cannot replace the work of writing good poems, supporting other writers, and participating in the literary community.
Use social media if it serves your goals. Ignore the pressure to be everywhere at once. Share your work, encourage others, and remember that the most important part of being a poet still happens away from the screen.
BY DONATION An online workshop led by Regina Dilgen, in conversation with Fiona Owen and Ellis Elliott
Workshop Details
Are you ready to send your work into the world but you’re not sure where to begin? This practical workshop will guide writers through the submission process from start to finish. We’ll cover how to:- find appropriate markets- interpret submission guidelines- format your work professionally- write a simple cover letter- track submissions- handle acceptance and rejection with confidence. Whether you’re submitting poems, stories, essays, or creative nonfiction, you’ll leave with the tools and resources you need to take the next step in your publishing journey.
This event is by donation and requires registration. Click on the image for all the information:
Having been to Ellis’ workshops before, I can safely say this is very much worth your time!
One of the joys of literary magazines is that they introduce us to work we might never have sought out on our own.
If someone had asked me whether I was looking for a poem about a pine-bark boat carrying a birthday-candle across a marsh under an equinox moon, I probably would have said no.
And yet here I am thinking about exactly that poem.
Morgan Golladay’s “Equinox Moon,” published in Instant Noodles Literary Magazine, is the kind of poem that reminds me why I keep returning to literary journals. It creates an entire world in just a few lines. We feel the cold leaching through boots and mittens. We see the still marsh. We watch a tiny handmade boat drift into the darkness carrying a small flame.
What I admire most is the poem’s quiet confidence. Nothing dramatic happens. There is no great revelation, no sudden twist. Instead, the poem trusts observation. It trusts atmosphere. It trusts the reader.
One image in particular stayed with me:
This tiny taper, though small,
is enough to banish the darkness.
The line works beautifully within the scene, but it also feels larger than the poem itself. We have all experienced moments when something small, a kindness, a memory, a friend, a poem, becomes enough to carry us through a dark stretch of life.
That ability to suggest more than it says is one of poetry’s great strengths.
Reading a little about Golladay afterward made the poem make even more sense. She has said that poetry works best when it is heard and that it should be concise, simple, and tight. “Equinox Moon” embodies that philosophy. Every image earns its place. Nothing feels wasted.
It also reminds me that literary magazines are not simply collections of writing. They are collections of discoveries. Every issue offers readers the opportunity to encounter voices, perspectives, and images they might otherwise miss.
That’s certainly what happened to me here.
If you haven’t visited Instant Noodles Literary Magazine recently, I encourage you to spend some time with the current issue. You’ll find poetry, fiction, nonfiction, humor, and artwork from writers and artists working in a wide variety of styles and genres.
You may come for one piece and leave thinking about another entirely.
That’s part of the magic.
Have you discovered a poem recently that stayed with you long after you finished reading it? What poem was it?
Every once in a while, a piece lands in Instant Noodles Literary Magazine that reminds me exactly why I enjoy reading short fiction.
John Tures’s “Lex Talionis” has everything I could want in a flash piece: a ghost ship, naval warfare, a dash of history, supernatural revenge, and an ending that lands exactly where it should.
Set during the War of 1812, the story follows a British frigate pursuing what appears to be an American privateer. The captain dismisses warnings that the vessel ahead may be something far more dangerous than an enemy ship. Unfortunately for him, ghost stories have a way of becoming real at exactly the wrong moment.
One of the pleasures of flash fiction is watching a writer establish a world, create tension, and deliver a satisfying payoff in only a few hundred words. Tures accomplishes all three. The story moves quickly, but it never feels rushed. Instead, it unfolds like a campfire tale told by someone who knows exactly when to reveal the next detail.
I was also drawn to the historical setting. The War of 1812 doesn’t receive nearly as much attention in fiction as the American Revolution or the Civil War, which makes it fertile ground for storytelling. Add a phantom privateer seeking revenge on the British Navy, and you have a premise that immediately grabbed my attention.
The title is a clever touch as well. Lex talionis is a Latin phrase often translated as “the law of retaliation” or “an eye for an eye.” By the time the story reaches its conclusion, readers will understand exactly why that title was chosen.
One of the things I enjoy most about literary magazines is discovering work I might never have found otherwise. Every issue introduces me to new voices, new ideas, and occasionally a story that simply makes me smile because it delivers exactly what it promises.
“Lex Talionis” was one of those stories.
If you enjoy historical fiction, ghost stories, maritime adventures, or simply a well-executed piece of flash fiction, I encourage you to give it a read. Just remember: if an experienced sailor tells you not to chase the ghost ship, you should probably listen!
When poets talk about building a readership, literary journals are often one of the first recommendations they receive. Yet many writers, especially those outside academic circles, wonder whether journals still matter in an age of websites, social media, and self-publishing.
The short answer is yes.
Literary journals remain one of the most accessible ways for poets to introduce their work to new readers, establish publishing credentials, and become part of the broader literary conversation. While publication in a journal rarely leads to instant fame or large sales numbers, it can help create the foundation upon which a readership is built.
For many poets, journals provide something equally important: discovery. Readers who may never have encountered your work otherwise can stumble across a poem in a magazine, become interested in your writing, and begin following your career. Editors, event organizers, workshop leaders, and fellow poets often discover new voices through journals as well.
If you’re new to submissions, finding journals is easier than ever. Resources such as Chill Subs, Duotrope, Poets & Writers, New Pages, and the Community of Literary Magazines and Presses (CLMP) maintain extensive databases of literary magazines and submission opportunities. Many journals also maintain active social media accounts where they announce open reading periods, special themes, and contests.
One of the most common mistakes beginning poets make is submitting without first reading the publication. Whenever possible, spend some time with a journal before sending your work. Read several poems. Pay attention to the styles, themes, and voices the editors seem to favor. Not because you should imitate them, but because you’ll gain a better sense of whether your work is likely to be a good fit.
Many journals now accept submissions through online platforms such as Submittable and Moksha. These systems make it easy to track submissions, but they have also increased competition by making it easier for writers to submit widely. Rejection remains a normal part of the process. Even accomplished poets accumulate large numbers of rejections throughout their careers.
At some point, every poet encounters the question of reading fees. Some journals charge a small fee, often between two and five dollars, to help cover administrative costs, software subscriptions, and staff expenses. Others operate entirely without fees. Opinions vary widely on the practice. Some writers avoid reading fees altogether, while others are comfortable paying modest amounts to support journals they respect.
There is no single correct approach. However, poets should be thoughtful about where they spend their money. A small fee for a well-established publication may be reasonable. Paying large amounts to submit work to unknown organizations is generally less advisable. As with any publishing opportunity, it pays to do a little research before opening your wallet.
Another decision involves print versus digital publications. Some poets strongly prefer print journals because they enjoy seeing their work in a physical publication and because print journals often carry a certain prestige. Others appreciate the accessibility of online journals, where poems can be discovered by readers around the world with a simple click.
The truth is that both formats offer advantages. Print journals provide permanence and a tangible reading experience. Online journals often offer broader reach, searchable archives, and the possibility of sharing links directly with readers. Many respected literary publications now operate in both formats, making the distinction less important than it once was.
It is also worth remembering that publication credits are not merely lines on a résumé. Every journal publication expands your visibility. A handful of well-placed poems can lead to invitations to readings, relationships with editors, opportunities for future publication, and readers who may eventually purchase your collection.
For poets considering a future book project, journal publication can be especially valuable. Individual poems published over time help establish a track record of activity and engagement within the literary community. They can also provide useful feedback about which poems resonate most strongly with readers and editors.
At the same time, don’t fall into the trap of believing that journal publication is the only path to legitimacy. Many excellent poets publish widely in journals. Many others build readership through readings, workshops, social media, teaching, community engagement, or independent publishing. Literary journals are one tool among many.
Ultimately, journals matter because they help connect poems with readers. They provide opportunities for discovery, conversation, and community. For poets seeking to build a readership, submitting to journals remains one of the most practical and effective ways to begin sharing work beyond their immediate circle.
If you’ve been considering submitting your poetry, start small. Find a few journals you genuinely enjoy reading, study their guidelines, and send your work into the world. Every publication began with a first submission, and every poet who appears in a journal today was once a writer nervously pressing “submit” for the very first time.
Instant Noodles Submissions close TODAY for:AL DENTE!
Al Dente: In cooking, pasta or risotto al dente (/ælˈdɛnteɪ/, Italian: [al ˈdɛnte]; lit. ’to the tooth’) is cooked to be firm to the bite, requiring a brief cooking time. The term also extends to firmly-cooked vegetables. In contemporary Italian cooking, it is considered to be the ideal consistency for pasta.
What does al dente mean to you? To your neighborhood vampire it probably means something different. How about to the prospector mining gold?
Send us something that you haven’t overcooked!
Submissions close TODAY: July 5, 2026; the issue publishes SEPTEMBER 1, 2026.
Every Fourth of July, Americans revisit familiar symbols: fireworks, flags, parades, and historical speeches. This year, I’d like to suggest revisiting a poem.
One of the most influential poems in American history is “The New Colossus” by Emma Lazarus. Written in 1883 to help raise funds for the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty, the poem was not originally intended to become famous. In fact, it was largely forgotten for years after it was written.
Most people are surprised to learn that the poem was not originally part of the Statue of Liberty. The statue itself was a gift from France celebrating liberty and democracy. It was only in 1903, sixteen years after Lazarus’s death, that a bronze plaque bearing the poem was installed inside the pedestal.
Today, however, many readers recognize its closing lines, which have become inseparable from the monument itself:
“Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free…”
Emma Lazarus
What fascinates me about “The New Colossus” is that it did something very few poems ever accomplish. It changed the way people saw a monument.
The Statue of Liberty was already standing in New York Harbor when Lazarus wrote her poem. Yet over time, her words became so closely associated with the statue that many people now think of the poem and the monument as a single work. A few lines of poetry helped shape how generations of Americans understood one of the country’s most recognizable landmarks.
That’s an extraordinary accomplishment for any writer.
As poets and readers, we sometimes forget how powerful language can be. Most poems will never become part of a national conversation, nor do they need to. Yet “The New Colossus” offers a reminder that poetry can leave a lasting mark on culture in unexpected ways.
I also enjoy the fact that the poem’s influence wasn’t immediate. It wasn’t a viral sensation. It wasn’t an overnight success. It spent years in relative obscurity before eventually finding its place in American history. There is something encouraging about that for writers.
As Independence Day approaches, consider taking a few minutes to read “The New Colossus.” Even if you’ve encountered those famous closing lines before, reading the entire poem offers a new appreciation for what Emma Lazarus accomplished.
More than a century later, people are still discussing her words. That’s not a bad legacy for a poem.
Do you have a favorite poem that feels especially American to you? We’d love to hear about it in the comments.
The New Colossus
BY EMMA LAZARUS
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. “Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
Instant Noodles Submissions close THIS WEEK for:AL DENTE!
Al Dente: In cooking, pasta or risotto al dente (/ælˈdɛnteɪ/, Italian: [al ˈdɛnte]; lit. ’to the tooth’) is cooked to be firm to the bite, requiring a brief cooking time. The term also extends to firmly-cooked vegetables. In contemporary Italian cooking, it is considered to be the ideal consistency for pasta.
What does al dente mean to you? To your neighborhood vampire it probably means something different. How about to the prospector mining gold?
Send us something that you haven’t overcooked!
Submissions close on July 5, 2026; the issue publishes SEPTEMBER 1, 2026.
One of poetry’s great strengths is its ability to capture a moment of recognition.
Or, in some cases, a moment of misrecognition.
Toni Artuso’s “To the Woman Waiting on the Train Station Platform” begins with observation. The speaker notices a woman dressed in striking over-the-knee boots, a miniskirt, and a dark jacket. The details are vivid. The woman commands attention. She appears confident, glamorous, and perhaps a little intimidating.
Like the speaker, readers begin constructing a story.
Who is she?
Where is she going?
What kind of person dresses like this on a cold day?
The poem invites us to ask these questions while quietly reminding us that we don’t actually know the answers.
What follows is a wonderful example of how poetry can examine the assumptions we make about strangers. We see someone for a few moments and immediately begin filling in the blanks. Clothing becomes personality. Posture becomes character. Appearance becomes identity.
Then comes the turn.
The woman looks back.
Suddenly, the speaker notices traces of adolescent acne beneath carefully applied makeup. It is a small detail, but it changes everything. The glamorous stranger becomes a human being with a history. The mystery remains, but the distance narrows.
What I admire about the poem is its restraint. It never tells us what to think about the woman. It simply shows us how quickly we create stories about people we do not know and how easily those stories can be disrupted by a single unexpected detail.
In only a few lines, Artuso moves from attraction and curiosity to something deeper: empathy.
The poem also feels particularly well suited to its author. Toni Artuso is an emerging, and as she humorously describes herself, “aging” trans writer from Salem, Massachusetts. Her work has appeared in numerous publications, including The Christian Science Monitor, The Ekphrastic Review, Salamander, and Honeyguide Literary Magazine, which nominated one of her villanelles for both a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net.
Reading this poem, I found myself thinking about how often we mistake appearance for understanding. We notice what is visible and assume we know the rest. Yet every person carries experiences, struggles, triumphs, and insecurities that remain hidden from view.
The woman on the platform remains largely unknown to us. That is precisely why the poem succeeds. Artuso allows her to remain a stranger while reminding us that strangers are always more complicated than the stories we tell ourselves about them.
Long after I finished reading the poem, I found myself returning to that final image. Not because it answers the mystery of who the woman is, but because it reminds us how much of every human being remains unseen.
Have you ever imagined the life of a stranger?
There are so many more wonderful works to read, listen to, and see. Visit Instant Noodles!
OLD SCRATCH PRESS 