Old Scratch Press is pleased to announce the upcoming release of The Song of North Mountain, by Morgan Golladay. Slated for May release, the book includes original artwork by the author to accompany her poems. The collection is now available for pre-order.
Founded in 2023, Old Scratch Press is a cooperative of poets and short-form authors who have come together to promote the publication and appreciation of poetry and short-form writing. The Song of North Mountain will be the third chapbook, published by the small independent press.
Break in the Field by Ellis Elliot was their first book, nominated for the National Book Award, followed by avante-garde wordsmith and artist Robert Fleming’s poetry collection, White Noir.
The Song of North Mountain, says Morgan, “is about my relationship with this Earth, focusing on one small mountain in one small chain, in one small part of this vast world.
This book is about a connection – my personal experience sitting in stillness on this mountain, as well as many other mountains. North Mountain is, for me, a symbol of my relationship with this Earth. The permanence of the land, regardless of how it changes; the cycles of life, the quiet continuation of change. It has been a long time since I personally was able to sit quietly and listen to the tree branches and leaves speak to each other. I cannot scale the trails as I once did. But the magic of place is still in my memory, whether it’s the rocks in the rivers, the trails on the mountain tops, or the joy of sharing ripe wild berries.
“…my personal experience sitting in stillness on this mountain, as well as many other mountains. North Mountain is, for me, a symbol of my relationship with this Earth.”
Morgan Golladay
The cover design, an original painting, and the 10 black and white interior illustrations were created specifically for the book. Pre-order availability on Amazon and on the Old Scratch catalogue page will be coming soon.
To keep up with the latest news, please follow our blog here for free and also follow us on Facebook. Later this year look for more chapbooks penned by Gabby Gilliam, Alan Bern, and Nadja Maril. Thank you for reading. Special note: the deadline for Instant Noodles LIterary Magazine submissions has been extended to the end of the month.
So many people think poetry is serious and difficult to understand. But language can also be fun. There are so many poets that use words to delight readers with something unexpected. Most people are familiar with Shel Silverstein, whose poems are light-hearted, but there are so many poems out there that both you and your kids will love for their silliness.
Many know Judith Viorst for Alexander and the No Good, Horrible, Very Bad Day, but she also wrote this fun poem about a mom who really doesn’t want a pet.
Mother doesn’t want a dog. Mother says they smell, And never sit when you say sit, Or even when you yell. And when you come home late at night And there is ice and snow, You have to go back out because The dumb dog has to go.
Mother doesn’t want a dog. Mother says they shed, And always let the strangers in And bark at friends instead, And do disgraceful things on rugs, And track mud on the floor, And flop upon your bed at night And snore their doggy snore.
Mother doesn’t want a dog. She’s making a mistake. Because, more than a dog, I think She will not want this snake.
One of the first books I ever remember buying for myself was The New Kid on the Block by Jack Prelutsky, so it’s no surprise that a poem by him makes this list. I was in elementary school, and must have used birthday money. I was so excited about getting the book that I started reading it in the car on the way to a different store. While I loved the poems, I also discovered reading makes me extremely carsick. It was not a pleasant birthday lesson, but I treasured the book anyway. Here’s a great example of the fun poems in that book.
My son’s friend introduced me to the next poet. Chris Harris plays with words in a way that will delight both adults and kids alike. He claims he’s not very good at writing poems, but I think his I’m Just No Good at Rhyming books are delightful. I even used one as an example when we discussed humorous poetry in the Teen Poetry Workshop I facilitate at my local library.
We all seem to have an ingrained fear of the dark and what might be prowling in it. In this poem, Innarenko takes the reader on a fun adventure as multiple scenarios are conjured to explain where a strange noise might be coming from. The epiphany at the end is a delightful finale.
My family’s gone; there’s no one home. It’s only me who’s home alone. I shouldn’t hear a single squeak. There shouldn’t even be a creak,
So what’s that thumping that I hear? It must mean one thing: death is near. “You’re an adult, you’ll be just fine.” I tell myself as I dial “nine”…
Was that a knock upon the door? My heart beats faster than before I know it’s closed; I’ve checked the lock. At least my killer knows to knock?
I cannot sleep, though I’m in bed. I’ve made amends with God instead. If He decides that it’s my time, Then this will be my very last rhyme.
I hear a bang and then a break. My head shoots up; there’s no mistake! I turn my music volume high So I won’t hear the way I die.
I run upstairs, desk lamp in hand. Over my head, ready to land, And right before it did just that… I remembered – I have a cat.
Those who aren’t familiar with Brian Bilson’s work are in for a treat. I will caution that some of his poems, though very fun, may not be suitable to read with children. This visual poem, though, is spatially interesting and shows poetry can do unexpected things. It makes me smile every time I come across it. If you enjoy this poem, I recommend checking out more of his work. Click below on the word “needles”.
Thank you for reading. Which poems are your favorite children’s poems. We’d like to know. We welcome guest posts. Please follow Old Scratch Press by subscribing to this blog for FREE and following us on Facebook. Learn more about Collective member Gabby Gilliam by visiting her website.
Author of Drumming for the Dead, Black Hare Press and founding member of Old Scratch Press
Every year, I set a goal of reading 52 books before the year ends. In 2023, I went well above my goal, and read 74 books. I’ve made it a personal goal to read more collections of poetry, and I think that helped boost my number.
One of my top reads for the year was a collection of poems, Unshuttered, by Patricia Smith. An ekphrastic anthology of poems inspired by vintage photographs of Black men, women, and children the author collected, Smith’s poems give the photographs’ subjects a voice. The collection is powerful. I highly recommend it.
The remaining books in my top five are fiction, and have at least a taste of magic in them.
When I was younger, one of my favorite Disney films was The Sword in the Stone. In high school, I read The Once and Future King by E.B. White as an assigned novel for English class. So, when I came across The Once and Future Witches by Alix E. Harrow, I borrowed it from my local library.
I wasn’t disappointed. There’s magic and wit and the tangled storylines of three sisters that slowly converge. The youngest sister, Juniper reminds me of Granny Weatherwax from Terry Pratchett’s books (who is one of my favorite witches of all time). In Once and Future Witches, Harrow gives us a feminist adventure story full of magic, and I devoured every page of it.
I only picked up Nettle & Bone by T. Kingfisher because I was trying to read all of the Hugo Award nominees. I didn’t expect much since it’s such a short read. The heroine of the novella is given three impossible tasks and, through stubborn determination, begins to make her way through them. What I liked about this fairy tale is that the princess didn’t wait to be saved by anyone. She didn’t even want to marry a prince. Instead, she does her best to kill one.
I’m more than a little late to the party, but I started the Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan last year. I decided to give the first book a try after watching the first season of the television series. The show left me with some questions that I hoped the book would answer. I was right. And the book was so good that I decided to dive into the rest of the series, even though I suspect it will be a few years before I make it through them all since the hold list for the audiobooks is rather long.
My favorite read of the year came from one of my favorite authors, Sarah Addison Allen. Allen is a master of magical realism. While her novel, Other Birds, wasn’t my all-time best-loved book of hers (that honor belongs to Garden Spells), I still loved this story of complicated grief and the bond formed between found family.
I’ve set a goal of 52 books again for 2024. I’m off to a slow start, but I really enjoyed Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros (I recommend the Graphic Audio version. A full cast really enhances the experience.).
The year is still young, and I’m looking forward to chipping away at my growing to-be-read list. What was the last great book you read? I’d love to add it to my list! Please leave a comment on this post on the Old Scratch website or on our Old Scratch Facebook page.
We were linked long before we met. We have been down the same wrong path at different times with the same rancid rogues. When we met, I was coming out the wrong side; you were still there floundering hopelessly. At first, I didn’t pay you much notice at all. The death of a dear mutual friend brought us together at the freshly dug gravesite. We are good, now, together, walking that tightrope of ‘fall off the wagon at any time’ good that depends so much on breathing love’s balance.
Gerry’s poem, about all the ways that love connects us, adds wholeness to our lives, even as we get past the frenzy of youth.
My son found the dragon’s tooth amongst some rocks and fine white sand. He washed it clean in a tidal pool. A Hermit crab stole it, scraping the tip then sucking the remnant root. The boy threw some sand and stole it back. He climbed up on the rocks with me to sit. We examined the hard fire, inner blackened. Easily sold to tourists later, paying us much more to guarantee their safe return passage .
Colin’s poem I always took to be about parental love: how our children absolutely make us filled and absorbed and imaginative and plain old grateful to be in their magical world.
UNDER KEEL ON LITTLE DOE LAKE ~ Robert Fleming
moon over wooden hull us under birch wood left hand forward 4 ur bow thwarted by ur stern pry stroke back stroke 2 ur gunnel seeking ur back sweep stroke u j-stroke away non-swimming clothes on prefer clothes off cross draw stroke 2 ur dock u eskimo roll out ur knee on deck solo under skin draw stroke my wood
Robert, a member of Old Scratch Press, may correct me, but I always took this to be a poem at the beginning, heady stage of love, and so much about the abandonment that I always feel in the time of transition from spring to early summer.
Betahany’s poem always seemed like lust to me, which is beefy and delicious, in my view, like biting into a huge strawberry covered in dark, dark chocolate, and certainly an important part of romantic love.
Lastly, on this hopefully gentle day that comes to you with a hug, or, perhaps a kiss, another from Greg Hill, possibly my favorite poem submitted to Instant Noodles to date. Happy Valentine’s Day. May you find love, or love find you!
On Valentine’s Day, write a sonnet. A sonnet is for love. In the 13th-century, the sonnet was invented by Giacomo da Lentini, a member of the Italian Court of the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II in Palermo, Sicily.
William Shakespeare popularized the sonnet. William lived 1564–1616 in Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwickshire, England.
The original sonnet is a fourteen-line poem in iambic pentameter with endline rhyme with the sequence: ABAB CDCD EFEF GG. The last two lines, GG, are a change, called a Volta. I still confuse iambic pentameter with the Olympic Pentameter event where a shepherd guides lambs over hurdles.
Perhaps, William’s most famous sonnet is #18: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Where is William’s poetry title? Don’t poems have to have a title? Some poets don’t give titles and when published the publisher makes the first line the title.
As a poet for fifty years, I have written many sonnets and teach a two-hour workshop on how to write a sonnet. I am proud, at the end of my workshop, many participants write a first draft and complain they are exhausted. Beware of the sonnet sweat.
My writing which responds to William’s sonnet #18:
William does this frock make me look fat?
Why should I compare you? Shall my rating do good? Will it make me want
you more than what I had,
nor worse than what I can’t get? Your score will be my score.
Shall there come a day when you won’t ask? Oh no, no, not that frock, take it off!
Robert, your poem does have a title, but only nine lines. It is not a sonnet. As a tribute to Cole Porter, who composed Anything Goes in 1934, the less taxing American sonnet was invented which is a fourteen-line poem that does not demand iambic pentameter nor endline rhymes. If the American sonnet’s fourteen lines is still too sweaty for you, write a monostich-1 line poem: I Love You.
The author, Robert Fleming is a founding/contributing editor of Old Scratch Press (OSP). To read more of Robert’s work:
Writing poetry is a personal, introspective experience, a way to communicate our innermost feelings as art.
Enter politics. Around the United States, around the globe humans are in conflict. It doesn’t matter which side you agree with, we all have our opinions, even if our opinion is to try and ignore the chatter.
Poetry, for centuries, has been a way for artists to convey their opinions. Attend a political rally and you’ll hear speeches, chants, songs. A number of poems have become beloved “classics” and they just might inspire you to write a few of your own.
Claude McKay
If We Must Die
By Claude McKay
Claude McKay, 1889-1948 was born in Jamaica who later moved to the U.S. and lived abroad for a number of years., was a key figure in the Harlem Renaissance, a prominent literary movement of the 1920s. His published work included poetry, essays, a short story collection and several novels.
If we must die, let it not be like hogs
Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,
While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,
Making their mock at our accursèd lot.
If we must die, O let us nobly die,
So that our precious blood may not be shed
In vain; then even the monsters we defy
Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!
O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe!
Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,
And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow!
What though before us lies the open grave?
Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,
Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!
*
Beat! Beat! Drums!
By Walt Whitman
Walt Whitman,1819-1892, is regarded as one of America’s important 19th century poets. During the Civil War, while working as a desk clerk in Washington D.C., he visited wounded soldiers in his spare time.
Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! blow!
Through the windows—through doors—burst like a ruthless force,
Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation,
Into the school where the scholar is studying,
Leave not the bridegroom quiet—no happiness must he have now with his bride,
Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, ploughing his field or gathering his grain,
So fierce you whirr and pound you drums—so shrill you bugles blow.
*
Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! blow!
Over the traffic of cities—over the rumble of wheels in the streets;
Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses? no sleepers must sleep in those beds,
No bargainers’ bargains by day—no brokers or speculators—would they continue?
Would the talkers be talking? would the singer attempt to sing?
Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the judge?
Then rattle quicker, heavier drums—you bugles wilder blow.
*
Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! blow!
Make no parley—stop for no expostulation,
Mind not the timid—mind not the weeper or prayer,
Mind not the old man beseeching the young man,
Let not the child’s voice be heard, nor the mother’s entreaties,
Make even the trestles to shake the dead where they lie awaiting the hearses,
So strong you thump O terrible drums—so loud you bugles blow.
London
By William Blake
William Blake, 1792-1827, was an English visionary painter, engraver and poet of modest means who lived in London. In June 1780, Blake found himself in the midst of a riot calling for an end to the war on the American colonies. Often in his work, he questioned the status quo of the traditional order of society.
I wander thro’ each charter’d street,
Near where the charter’d Thames does flow.
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
*
In every cry of every Man,
In every Infants cry of fear,
In every voice: in every ban,
The mind-forg’d manacles I hear
*
How the Chimney-sweepers cry
Every blackning Church appalls,
And the hapless Soldiers sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls
*
But most thro’ midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlots curse
Blasts the new-born Infants tear
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse
If one of your resolutions for 2024 was to write more poetry, there’s never a better time than now.
Maybe wake up a little earlier, take a mid-day break, any time of the day will do, but just write a first draft without censoring your thoughts. For tips on revisions and the submission process, click here.
And to get you a little more hyped, here are a few places that are open for submissions this month, January 2024.
OLD SCRATCH PRESS 