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Submission Guidelines General Submission Guidelines Are As Follows: 1.) All submissions should be in English and formatted as you would like for them to appear in the publication, in a Microsoft Word-compatible file or as a .pdf file. 2.) The submissions should also include your name and contact information (although neither will appear in the magazine nor will they be made know to the selection panel), be your own original work and copyright protected. You retain ownership rights to all of your work. 3.) The premise of Writers Anonymous Magazine is to provide a vehicle for writers, such as yourself, to present your work to the masses for the purpose of being recognized and to generate interest in your work. In that vein, this publication is "no holds barred". We do not restrict content, word count, subject matter, language or the maximum number of submissions you send in (the unofficial minimum is three pieces). Submit your entries to writersanonmag@gmail.com with the wor d, " Submissions" in the subject line. 4.) You are free to create as you please without the fear of reprisal or judgment. Your anonymity will remain intact. Should anyone take a special interest in your work, their contact information will be forwarded to you and you decide whether or not to make direct contact with the interested party.
Selection Process: Your entries, upon receipt, will be reviewed and scored by a panel of seven writers, poets and authors. You will be notified by e-mail if your submissions will appear in an upcoming issue of Writers Anonymous Magazine. Thank you for your interest. Hope to hear from you soon! 5
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Anonymous One BROKEN SOMETHINGS Never having a family picture taken. Never having the honeymoon or the family vacation. Always wishing for arms to hold me tight. Left with nothing but cold lonely nights. The man of my dreams lives so far away. Even when he's here, I know he won't stay.
The dread of "goodbye" starts lingering in. And the sadness floods my heart of being alone once again. A wedding ring that I cannot wear sits dusty on the shelf. Being forced to look down at my tattooed finger from when I was married to someone else. From never sharing birthdays or funerals... the smiling or the tears, These are the broken pieces of my last 6 years.
For the author’s contact information, send an e-mail to writersanonmag@gmail.com with “Anonymous One” in the subject line.
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CONTROLLING HIS SHEEP
What the f*ck was I thinking? Every day, every step was calculated. Walking the thin line of 'committed' and 'confused'...What was a shunned wife to do? There were so many times I sat this man down. Explained my deepest passions, wants and needs. Repeatedly getting slung from this fuckin' Merry-Go-Round While my inner voice screams, "Stand up b*tch, brush off those dirty knees!", "That's right", my inner voice said, "fix your damn clothes girl and pick up your head!" Then before I can completely get my feet on solid ground...The guilt, the shame....it f*ckin pounded me down. But I realized that somewhere inside me there's a fire that burns deep. That fire is the desire to not be this mans 'sheep'.... I'm an alpha, therefore I'm taking back my life! Controlling my own wants, needs and passions.. Us Alpha women MAKE ISHT HAPPEN!
For the author’s contact information, send an e-mail to writersanonmag@gmail.com with “Anonymous One” in the subject line.
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Replaceable Trinkets These diamond earrings, they nice, but they don't whisper goodnight. This fancy car, it's sweet, but the car don't hold me. This big ol house, it's supposed to be home, but it's cold here all alone. Not every woman needs a man to buy her things to show his love. Those THINGS are merely trinkets and tokens of a man's love. But please understand that the things he may buy you, you can buy them for yourself. A man should love his woman with his words, his touch and his compassion. Never settle for less, never become so blind by material possessions that you lose the ability to appreciate the small things that money can't buy! Let a man give you what you can't give yourself!
For the author’s contact information, send an e-mail to writersanonmag@gmail.com with “Anonymous One� in the subject line.
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This Lady Poet is a New Orleans native living at the speed of life. When she isn't thinking of her next piece, you can find her peacefully nestled at her desk or walking the aisles of the local bookstore in search of inspiration. Her upcoming book is due out Fall 2016.
Amora Dio, loosely translated from Italian, means God’s Love. In being a fan of Amora’s writing, I have come to view the word “Love” as her name presents, could be either noun or verb. One being what she is and the other being what she does. Her work has appeared in Writers Anonymous Magazine in previous publications. Amora has graciously allowed us to revisit some of those works in this issue as well as providing us with newly written material. As I am sure that “Amora Dio” is a pen name, the mystery of her true identity lend itself to be more intriguing than before. Ladies and Gentlemen, for your reading pleasure and enjoyment...Amora Dio
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Hello Hello…
God if you’re listening I never meant to make her cry Sitting here listening to Adele Whispering hello into the walls of echoes Before me stands a shell of a woman To the right and to the left of her are the duplicates of self Hello… They scream to her She can’t see what’s happening
Stuck physically in the 80s before the entrance of the first girl child Stuck mentally in the moments after mama and daddy went yonder Planted in the middle of adulthood as an orphan Trying to find her way she succumbs to dependency Then he comes Inserted into her life like a jack knife serrated with deception She ties herself to this man Her life but a fraction of what it could be 27 years later, after his death comes a rebirth The blank canvas of life before her begging to be painted with memorable moments and amazing accomplishments She sits in the middle of her life transfixed on the future, missing out on the present, enjoying the comfort afforded to her by the bitterness of her past Hello… Come out Rise up from that pit Use your teeth
Use your grit Grab the tightrope of life and pull Dust off the pain, ignore each stain Remove the distraction of depression
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Awake from the percussion of oppression Take your stance
Be the you we see Stop looking at yourself as a clearance rack option and elevate the upper echelon of your thinking to the encased glass Children solemnly swear not to be hollowed out They push, they pry, they make adjustments, they cry They screech How can the teacher who taught toughness, and the handler of unnecessary roughness be viewed as a weakling I can’t want more for her than she wants for herself. For if I do, I have given my offspring the tools to build houses of excuses by using rusted nails from a borrowed tool kit. God if you’re listening, I don’t want her to cry. I want her to see the value in her reflection I want her to step out of the way of wayward men into the arms of an eternal love. The kind that produces palpitations as he simultaneously rocks her spirit with a lullaby so heavenly it’s as if God himself is humming sweet nothings into her earlobe. I want her to command respect with the same tongue used to start an argument. I want her to fight. I want her to live. I want her to stop placing more value on the purchaser of a dinner while walking out of tasteless places questioning what she brings to the table Mama are you listening? Your #1 girl child is here I stare at the coffin. Looking at the untapped potential lying dormant before me. I can feel me running my hands along the silk ribbon housing one of the most beautiful angels I have ever had the chance to meet. Cold hands unite with my warm touch. Solid mahogany is her new home. The sad songs. The condolences. The curtain of grief so heavy I can push it to the side and see what would have been a wonderful journey instead of an untimely exit.
Sitting on the bench next to you as you say goodbye to your second mother isn’t easy. I can’t begin to imagine the painful perception that comes with sitting on that front pew. I want to have nice things to say about you. Loving words of kindness and tales of triumph. I don’t want what I know to be all that I have to remember you by. I’m sitting in the back of this church imagining what the presence of your absence would feel like. There is no pill I can swallow that would make that day any easier so pardon me as I plead with you. Mama make me better by being better than the memories I have of conversations not yet had. Words unspoken. Trips not taken. Books unwritten. Life not lived.
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You still have time. While there is breathe in your body. While both our hands are warm. Get up. Give us the legacy from the reservoir deep within you. The version you have kept hidden from others for fear of rejection. Get up Be bold and fearless Be powerful and wise. Be courageous and unforgettable. Get up Don’t be a walking flat line Don’t settle for mediocrity when extraordinary is within reach Get up Be the version of you, you taught me to be Hello...
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SIDE EFFECTS Cursed with loving you Hopelessly entangled in a RELATION-crip Crippled by the diphthong ways of listless days of nothingness My eyes became flooded with benign teardrops that quickly became my malignant state of anguish I loved you… I lied myself into believing that you would change Your perpetual lack of integrity was allowed I gave you dominion over my temple like no other You see I couldn’t see the hurricane brewing To busy pursuing the flame… Effortlessly dangled between you and I was “us”
Two letters joined to form one word you chose not to say… Two letters joined to form one word you selected not to hear… Two letters joined to form one word you decided not to commit to… Carefully detained me at arm’s length Just out of you grasp but close enough to be your “baby doll” The one you could pick up, play with and place back without a single realization that my scooped up state left my world interrupted I longed for it
Without even knowing you became my desired stimuli My reaction always elicited by an unanticipated message of inconvenience It was as if a smoke signal was sent to you with my happiness in tow Emotions swiftly surfaced Wounds re-opened A healing undone Ultimately drained of our past love No longer able to counter attack this counterfeit union
Pushed to infinite levels of backtracking thru a time when bags packing was the solution I felt as though you had given me one drug to many I had to be mindful of this ongoing overdose, coming close Able to leave me seconds away from being comatose Became sidetracked with unordered steps Locked into a groove
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Love is Him The Prescription for this addiction My daily craving Love is him….. The one I pray holds the rib from once I came Love is Him….. Within the silence when I can’t find the words to tell him how much I adore him How much I appreciate him Love is Him….. The him that holds the key to my very existence. The one who I love to see awake in the morning to prove he wasn’t a dream. The him who I… breathe for. The one who lights my path every morning when he rises. The one I want to love.. Can’t help but to love.. Dare to love undoubtedly, unconditionally, completely Love is Him….. The one whose eyes are my sunrise and whose warmth is my sunset. Love is Him….. The him that has the ability to sweep me off my feet while keeping me grounded. The him that caresses me gently, rocks me fervently, and loves me deeply. My funny valentine who makes me laugh but is the reason for my tears. Love is Him….. The him whose soul is painted perfectly on the walls of my imagination.
The him whose kiss can weaken me into shock yet energize me in one, swell, swoop. The him I’m afraid to love, to give love, to let love me back. Love is Him….. The him that God so graciously bestowed in my sinful presence.
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Love is Him…. The him I want next to me To cherish from this day forward The him I want to say “I do” to Love is him….. The him I hope can mold me into the perfect, passionate, partner he desires me to be Love is Him….. The him whose voice I hear in my subconscious even though I’m wide awake. The him whose name transcends over lifetimes just to reach my eardrum and linger for a moment longer. The him whose eyes hold captive my dreams, hopes, & aspirations in one, bold, beautiful blink. Love is Him….. The him who can take me to the pyramids of Egypt, Isles of Capri, and back home to the south with a tingling, tantalizing, treasure he calls “his touch” Love is Him….. The him whose children I wish to bear thru our love canal we’ve created just for their entry. The him whose body was chiseled for centuries before becoming fruitfully flawless in my eyesight.
Love is Him….. The him whose scent is like a rainy day. You don’t notice it while it’s there but once it’s left it’s all you can think of. Love is Him…..
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Not easily moved but your knack for inconsistency led me to be free Free from a sickness Able to adjust with the quickness Won’t let these side-effects get the best of me because the rest of me…is thru with you No longer were you the one I needed You simply became pieces of a man to me Unfinished, under developed, always under construction Gone are the days I filled my daydreams with what ifs.. Now I battle with what is… The only certainty I maintain is what is not.. My heart was like a candle and the love I once had for you a mere flicker One strong gust shall be its demise Unable to continue to smother me with… With those eyes Those lies Well-hung clothes Closet hoes Gone are my sleepless nights Mental fights Heart tussles Lonely struggles There is a light where darkness once dwelled Emerging ever so slightly is a new me I’m walking in forgiveness My smile has returned My feet are guided Pain has subsided No longer cursed with loving you No side effects to endure Recovery complete Pressing delete I’m done Standing still Completely healed
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Anonymous Two
Untitled I Am more afraid of The blue lights in my rearview Than I Am of the bright one at the end of the tunnel I Am ready to die Just not tonight And not over a broken taillight
For the author’s contact information, send an e-mail to writersanonmag@gmail.com with “Anonymous Two” in the subject line.
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Black Thought If there is nothing to fear Accept for fear itself, Why are you so Afraid Of Me ?
For the author’s contact information, send an e-mail to writersanonmag@gmail.com with “Anonymous Two” in the subject line.
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American Justus Your blue life My black son’s His red blood On your White hands
That is not justice Because it only happens to Just Us
The Lion Behind The Tin Badge There is a thin line between love and hate You must stand on it every day when you look in the mirror A man of power and authority Who is afraid of his own shadow
And of those whose skin is closest to its hue If you are scared with that piece of metal Pinned to your chest, with the “honor” and “prestige” That it implies, What happens when it is removed?
What manner of man are you? Then?
Could it be that the lion is just A real big pussy?
For the author’s contact information, send an e-mail to writersanonmag@gmail.com with “Anonymous Two” in the subject line.
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Dead To Rights I have the right to remain silent Anything I say can be used against me in a court of law
I have the right to an attorney and to have him with me during questioning If I cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to me before any questioning if I wish I can decide at any time to exercise these rights and not answer any questions or make any statements WAIVER: I understand each of the rights that have been explained to me. With these rights in mind, I something to say: I have the right to live I have the right to keep breathing Despite your unwarranted and unreasonable fear I have the right to not remain silent I have the right to speak freely You have the right to be offended That right does not give you the right to execute me Anything you say can be used in my defense in a court of law
The rights that were explained to me are of no use to me Once you violate and terminate them by way of extrajudicial, state-sanctioned murder And get away with it.
Dead men don’t talk. Dead men don’t have rights
But You know that already. I I’m dead right. I’m dead, right?
For the author’s contact information, send an e-mail to writersanonmag@gmail.com with “Anonymous Two” in the subject line.
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Anonymous Three Redemption There is no restoration to former glory The burns out and the flame's Flicker dwindles but a spark The ashes float aimlessly into the sky The applause fades and the darkness fills the arena To turn back the hands of time Is impossible
The crowds gather no more How do you reproduce the electricity That once flowed from your tongue The fire has grown cold and that muffled sound is beating of your heart Peel back the scales trying to expose eyes to the light They are wreck less in the day time and worthless at night
For the author’s contact information, send an e-mail to writersanonmag@gmail.com with “Anonymous Three” in the subject line.
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PLACID
Cosmic spiral Drought driven Constant denial Slowly Drawn to the cycle Swirling in the spiral Prominent fantastical Drama brought by Insane beguile All melodies stay running Wild You and I crash We collide Cannot exist on The same plane This game insane Opponent has no Disdain And I Die I bleed I cry
Numb and cold Inside Desperation From a different time Warped the cosmos Quiet Sublime The categories Are un-named Subtitles washed away In the flames Shame Worthless words Inflamed planetary Bodies Borders blurred Interrupted by Treason Mysterious with no Clues Bounced around By guilt I still cling to you
For the author’s contact information, send an e-mail to writersanonmag@gmail.com with “Anonymous Three” in the subject line.
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Embrace Just to touch you Is not the same thing Might as well just Brush against my face. Wrapped up in hurt It calms my soul Your body heat Has grown so cold Unmatched love No skills in your hug I hate your taste Can't see compassion in your face Don't touch me Unless you can Replace The miracle that was in your embrace Em-pure Em-pire Em-barrassed Return of love that was scattered Return to me From the world What is un savage Replicate the memories That have become Tattered Let me drape myself around you Cover in care Let love find You An Embrace for that is Left behind you
For the author’s contact information, send an e-mail to writersanonmag@gmail.com with “Anonymous Three” in the subject line.
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HEY! YOU! YES! YOU! these could be your words on THIS page The WORLD is waiting for YOU YES! YOU!
For the submission rules and guidelines,, send an e-mail to writersanonmag@gmail.com with “I Want To Write” in the subject line.
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PERIOD.
COMMA,
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