Submission Policy

Submissions to THE BUG BOOK are now closed. However, we will continue to post a sampling of poems accepted for the anthology as we continue to work our way through the flood of last minute submissions.

Poetry (any form or style) and Micro or Flash Fictions wanted for an anthology on SMOKE. Not just the black clouds rising from the five-alarm fire next door, or the billowing plumes of smoke warning us of a forest fire, or the emissions from factory smoke stacks, apartment house incinerators, and crematoriums, smoke rings rise from cigarettes, smoke pours out of headshops, pipe shops & cigar stores--see that purple haze rising over the fields of poppies and marijuana we just planted--we've used it to communicate via smoke signals and skywriting, to cover our tracks and disappear with and without mirrors, combat the enemy on and off the battlefield, kill bugs, flavor food, cure illness, declare peace treaties, and fragrance our homes. Got the idea? Release it onto the page.

Guidelines: Submit up to three poems/micro fictions or two flash fictions at a time with a fascinating bio of 35 words or less, not just limited to publication credits, copy/pasted in the body of an e-mail (no attachments, please) to roxy533 at yahoo dot com & . We will also entertain up to six one-liners or 2 short stand up routines at time. Previously published work is OK as long as authors have retained the copyright, which will be returned to them after publication. Simultaneous submissions are encouraged. If your work is accepted elsewhere, and you still have obtained rights to republish, just let us know where and we'll be happy to acknowledge the other publication.

If you do not receive a response from us within a month of your submission considered it rejected and feel free to submit again. Due to the volume of submissions we cannot respond to each and every individual submission. Selection for the on-line edition are made on a ongoing basis as we receive your submissions. However, final selections for the print edition will made after the October 31st deadline. (In otherwords not everything that made the cut for the online edition will appear in print.) Please do not query. When in doubt, send the submission to roxy533 at yahoo dot com &

About This Blog

December 26, 2007
Dear Readers;

Here are some of the contributions we've received for our upcoming anthology, THE BUG BOOK, to inspire you to write and send us your own submissions, and to preview what's to come.

To see our other publications please visit our online bookstore at:

Roxanne Hoffman,
Publisher/Editor of Poets Wear Prada


Thursday, April 30, 2009

Robert Donohue | The Devil's Lament

The Devil's Lament

A cricket play his built-in violin,
He plays again his repertoire of notes.
What good is innocence without the sin?

One thing will end, anothor will begin,
The gnats light up like end of summer motes.
A cricket plays his built-in violin.

A leaf's turned brown and that's the fall creeping in
On endless summer Mary's shrine connotes.
What good is innocence without the sin?

Does summer ask the autumn where it's been?
It's welcoming, and like at lover dotes.
A cricket plays his built-in violin.

And fills the end of summer with his din,
A hollow melody not his, but rote's.
What good is innocence without the sin?

The summer sun will set and twilight dim
And days will come and go without our voices.
A cricker plays his built-in violin.
What good is innocence without the sin?

by Robert Donohue

Robert Donohue lives on Long Island where he works as a school custodian. He has featured at The Back Fence and his poetry has appeared in Measure which publishes metrical, English-language verse from both the United States and abroad, The Evansville Review which has also published poems of Billy Collins and The Raintown Review which focuses on sonnets, villanelles and triolets. He studied poetry at S.U.N.Y Oswego with Lewis Turco and lived for two years in Atlanta Ga. working on an independent film.

Goethe | Robert Kramer | The Death of Fly

The Death of a Fly

Greedily she sucks the treacherous drink,
not stopping, seduced by the first sip from the brim.
Although she feels quite well, long since each link
is paralyzed in each fine and delicate limb.
Her little wings she can no longer clean,
her little head she can no longer preen.
And thus she's lost in pleasure's cup,
for now her feet can scarcely hold her up.
Thus she sucks, and even as she drinks,
upon her thousand eyes the death mist sinks.

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, 1974 -1832
Translated by Robert Kramer


Sie saugt mit Gier verrätrisches Getränke
Unabgesetzt, vom ersten Zug verführt;
Sie fühlt sich wohl, und längst sind die Gelenke
Der zarten Beinchen schon paralysiert,
Nicht mehr gewandt, die Flügelchen zu putzen,
Nicht mehr geschickt, das Köpfchen aufzustutzen,
Das Leben so sich im Genuß verliert.
Zum Stehen kaum wird noch das Füßchen taugen;
So schlürft sie fort, und mitten unterm Saugen
Umnebelt ihr der Tod die tausend Augen.

Goethe by Germalde von Georg Melchior Kraus, 1775

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe was a German poet, playwright, novelist, courtier, and natural philosopher and according to George Eliot, "Germany's greatest man of letters… and the last true polymath to walk the earth." Goethe's is best know for his tragic drama Faust written in two parts and The Sorrows of Young Werther (German Title: Die Leiden des jungen Werther). He also wrote the scientific text The Theory of Colors and served at length as the Privy Councilor of the duchy of Weimar.

Robert Kramer

Robert Kramer is widely published poet, playwright, literary critic, and translator of European literature. He currently teaches art history at Manhattan College and is the authors of numerous articles and books on the history of art and literature.

Mary Elizabeth Clark | the little bumble bee

the little bumble bee

my little
bumble bee

the winter

my little
bumble bee

as little

my little
flower king


now's the
time to rest
your wings

that dreams
may come
to thee

of tender
little rosy

my little

by Mary Elizabeth Clark

Mary Elizabeth Clark likes bees, and besides bees she enjoys the company of butterflies, ladybugs, fireflies, and those tiny little moths. She has come a long way since the time she lost control of her two wheeler when a butterfly crossed her path. She was 4-years old then, and had developed this phobia as the result of a bad experience with a large and horrific member of the insect phylum. But as you can see from her poem, she is no longer squeemish about this most abundant life form.

© 1992 Mary Elizabeth Clark