Watch the video below. Does anything in this song resonate with you? Did anything stand out? What makes this song relevant to you? People in Tulsa? What makes the chorus so powerful?
They don’t teach us the ABC’s.
We play on the hard concrete.
All we got is life on the streets.
All we got is life on the streets.
Three years ago, I walked into a school for the first time. From the outside, it looked like a fortress. There were signs on the front that reminded me not to bring a gun on campus. By all accounts, East Central was a rough place to be and the students were wild, disrespectful and incredibly behind on everything academic.
Imagine my surprise when I met you all. You had the dumb luck of getting a fresh-faced teacher with no experience in a public school. Together, we were supposed to tackle English II and pass the End-of-Instruction exam.
My wife lived a state away. I was new to the city. I didn’t have any friends here, at least none that I’d known for more than a couple months. By all accounts, it should have been a remarkable failure. There were even teachers in the building predicting just that (and voicing it to you all). So what happened?
The simple truth – you happened. You let me learn with you. You were leaders. You got classes under control when I couldn’t. You were honest when I needed to hear it. You met every challenge head-on. Because of you, East Central is my home. I’m going into my fourth year, and I never consider moving to another school because I know – with my whole heart – that the best students in Tulsa are walking the halls of a broken down fortress on the East Side.
I am so, so proud of you, and I can’t wait to see what you do with this world. Thank you for letting me be a part of it.
Sincerely,
Grateful
The post below was written by Rob Sturma and shared with his permission. Spread the word. Let’s make this anthology happen!
—————-
Hey poets.
I’d like to lead off this note with a poem by my dear friend Eric Morago:
Thor Loses His Hammer
He staggers into my home tear-drunk,
gold locks reeking of booze and puke,
snot dangling from his perfect nose.
I ask, What happened?
It’s gone, he says. I can’t find it.
He sits, sinks into the cushions,
cries more than any god should.
Loki? I suggest, quick to help.
First place I tried—beat him to a pulp
then ransacked the underworld
Hela told me to check with the frost giants.
No luck there, either.
As he speaks, his voice shakes
with so much loss I ache for him—
helplessly, like having to see a child
break, bawling over a popped balloon.
I brew us coffee.
He takes his mug in his large god hands,
thanks me and asks what he should do.
Can’t the dwarves just make another?
He says I don’t understand.
Tells me it was a gift from Odin—
the only hard proof of his father’s love.
But I do—years before my father left,
he gave me a watch I’d never wear,
but made promise to always keep.
Now it rests in a sleek black box,
tucked away in my bedside drawer.
Often I forget it is there, except
on nights I can’t sleep, when I’ll hear
its faint ticking, and think to take it
from its grave, to feel the weight
of my father’s heart in my palm.
I want to tell Thor I understand,
but he has passed out on my couch,
curled into a muscular ball, snoring—
and I wonder,
if Thor cannot find his hammer,
how long before we all feel his loss,
how long before we miss the thunder
from our skies.
——————
So this is then a call to arms. If this were a movie trailer, it might “From the guy who brought you Aim For The Head comes something really…super.” Or maybe not. At any rate, I’m accepting submissions for a poetry anthology about heroes. Superheroes, specifically. I’m also willing to look at fiction, but it would have to be flash fiction or micro-fiction or whatever the kids are calling the short short stories these days.
I’m doing this the same way I did Aim, in that I’m independently soliciting the poems, and will do a first round of selections to assemble a manuscript that I will then shop to a publisher.
How and Where to Submit:
If you have any questions, feel free to inbox me or zap me a note to the gmail address.
Thanks in advance for your poems!
Greetings, lovelies!
I just wanted to post a quick update on the YouTube portion of the Write Bloody manuscript contest. I currently have over 1,000 views on the video, but only 152 likes. Several people have told me that they click the ‘Like’ button, but it doesn’t show up the next they login. If you’re willing, please login to see if your ‘Like’ was processed. Also, share share share!
If you haven’t heard, I have extended a challenge. Get me to 500 “likes” on YouTube and I will record a video of myself learning to twerk. It will make you laugh. Promise. Help me make a fool of myself.
Click here to watch the video. Don’t forget to click ‘Like.’ 
Hello all!
If you didn’t know, I am a finalist in the Write Bloody Submission Contest this year. One of the requirements for all finalists is to create a YouTube video of myself performing a poem from the manuscript. My submission will be judged, in part, by the number of ‘likes’ I get on the video. That’s where you awesome readers come in.
If you’re willing, please share the video below with as many people as you can. Encourage them to ‘like’ the video if they do, in fact, like the video. It’s a simple process of clicking the ‘thumbs up’ icon just beneath the video on YouTube. I would be eternally grateful for your support!
Hola ustedes!
Just a quick update on NAPOWRIMO. I am keeping up with the challenge thus far but, after a lot of consideration, I have decided to post all poems at http://www.thirtythirty.org/ronniekstephens. This is a private blog, which allows me to post the work without it being considered “published” by literary magazines.
There are two ways to read my NAPOWRIMO poems! First, visit the site above and sign up, then click ‘add me.’ This is free, and it allows you access to other fantastic poets like Stevie Edwards, Rob Sturma, Sam Sax and Roger Bonair-Agard. Alternatively, you can email me and request to receive the poems in your email each day.
If you see me in real life, you can also ask me for printed copies.
Good luck and good writing!
Watch ‘I’ll fight you for the library,’ by Taylor Mali. What is ironic about the exchange(s) described in this poem? Do you think it’s an accurate depiction of public education? Have you ever been denied access to resources at the school because they were being used for non-student purposes?
