IT’S ALIVE

Baby Lawn Literature Issue 2! Being the October issue, it’s filled with spooky pictures, all part of the public domain. More importantly, there is poetry by John Grey, Donal Mahoney, and Peter A. Wolf. Prose: P.D. Mallamo.

We at BLL want to express our unutterable gratitude to this month’s contributors.

You may notice this issue is a different format. We call it an improvement. Yes, we have bit of money now, so we went out and got Publisher.

Ain’t it pwetty now?

New and improved. We just keep getting better, but remember the Tenth of December.

Our plan is, law permitting, to photoshop George Saunders onto the faces of vintage holiday cards. How can you not submit?

You can read and download the latest issue here.

Hey

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Old School Poetry

Sound and Sense

Alexander Pope

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
As those move easiest who have learned to dance.
‘Tis not enough no harshness gives offense,
The sound must seem an echo to the sense:
Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows,
And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows;
But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar;
When Ajax strives some rock’s vast weight to throw,
The line too labors, and the words move slow;
Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain,
Flies o’er the unbending corn, and skims along the main.
Hear how Timotheus’ varied lays surprise,
And bid alternate passions fall and rise!

More Than We Bargained For

Here at BLL, it’s messier than a Mexican Olive Garden.

You may or may not have noticed the Weekly isn’t really weekly anymore. You could say it’s weakly. Sorry, anyway, it does make things more difficult for two people who also have regular jobs to tend to. For that reason, Baby Lawn Weekly’s submissions are hereby closed, but still submit. We will still do Baby Lawn Literature. Only now Baby Lawn Literature will absorb the criteria for the weekly edition, so now BLL will include short and/or humorous poems and flash fiction.

The Submission Guidelines will be altered to correspond to this.

-Ashley Bach, BLL founder and co-editor.

A Poem by Fred Lamanna

A Sonnet to the Goddess Febris

Yes they were quite small in their size for a pair of feet they made a statement

Painting around the town like no one knew what was causing the commotion

Paving the way for a row of older gentlemen who knew not how to saunter by

This must be the routine for the elegant masterpiece to be painted in regiment

Lowering the strains of the most commonplace blue bell ringing from a motion

Only to seethe for a quick sick chance second she had a movement only to sigh

Clustering around the decks and fatal balconies you should be able to hear a lot

But not that that would matter to a pagan guest showing his know vital qualities

Assured of the reaching stealth she could master the vague outpourings with cheers

Lonely the victims take on a raging fever overflowing into a crusty table with a spot

Lowering the spiteful moment it can assault the most ugly version of many vanities

Hovering about the quicker taunt tight frigid posturing composing for rapid jeers


Fred LaManna resides in Chicago.  He has modeled this Sonnet after the Illuminations of Rimbaud (New Testament of Poetry).  There are 41 more sonnets in The Goddess Cycle.