Editor-in-Chief Jeff Santosuosso, is a business consultant living in Pensacola, FL. His poetry has won multiple prizes and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. He’s also edited and reviewed poetry collections for his friends. An avid sports fan and traveler, he lives with his wife and 4 cats, plus a stray or two who drop by at mealtimes.
Ryn Holmes has been an award winning photographer, including first prize in ‘Art on Paper,’ a category of the initial San Francisco “Art in the Park” event. A graduate of the University of San Francisco, she continues expanding her role as teller and listener of stories while living an adventurous life on the Gulf of Mexico. She is a partner at K&K Editing.
Andrea Jones Walker, a native Floridian, makes her home in Pensacola, FL. She serves as an occasional instructor of English at Pensacola State College and is on the Board of the West Florida Literary Federation. She has published viewpoint pieces in the Pensacola News Journal and pens book reviews. Her novel Bending the Arrow is available on Amazon.
Dear editors, one and all. Hi, I’m Terry and I must with “God Is Perfect” from consideration, it has found a home else where. Thank you for your time and efforts on behalf of all us writers. Terry, Old Poet Man
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Congratulations, Terry! We always wish our submitters well. We’ll remove that from consideration. Best wishes, Jeff
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~ Hi …
Dear Editors of panoplyzine , I wish to submit my poem for the upcoming themed issue 6 …
In case , my work get selected , will it be published under my pseudonym ? …
Thank you …
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Yes, we work with contributors to refer to them as they choose, pseudonym, nom de plume, etc. Just let us know when you submit (and again if/when we notify you that your work has been accepted). Also, please keep in mind that should await our Call for Submissions for Issue 6. That will likely be around the end of February, lasting about a month. Thanks for thinking of Panoply!
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~ Sure , I will wait for the call …
Thanks a lot …
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Can’t see how to submit. But you published a piece of mine called one hundred dollars so here’s another
The woman who cared for Nuns.
A Poem for Dorothy Carbis
She left the room and brought back something in a paper bag.
“It’s for your daughter,” she said
And as I pulled out a pink, polyester pig
Wrapped around a hot water bottle,
Red face she raced to rip off and hide the Op-shop’s price tag.
I’d never been to her flat before,
I’d always met her in the streets or in the café,
And so I guess I thought, since she was always giving my kids gifts
That she lived somewhere better than this:
Somewhere more . . .
For above us the ceiling that was sinking was painted a lead green,
And the same drab green consumed the chipped, cupboard doors;
A peeling lead green dulled by an inadequate bulb and warmed
By her smile as leaning forward she patted my wrist and asked me again
How I and especially my kids had been, for she had no grandkids of her own.
In my time I’ve sat in loads of kitchens like this;
Run down rooms landlords are reluctant to fix;
Worn out lino supporting overly generous people
Laughing at their problems and worrying about their jobs that they hate.
Dorothy had cared for demented nuns.
Scores of Christ’s Breaking Brides had curled into her inability not to care;
Slipped their wrinkled skins as Christ left her behind . . . Left her here.
And while God hadn’t married Dorothy, I wondered if he knew
That tonight, in this cold shit hole of a room,
His lost promises were glowing through her grace.
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Thanks, Michael. We’re closed for submissions for about a month. We use Submittable and will announce our Call on the site, our FB page, and via multiple bulletin boards.
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