The heading pretty much says it all. A week from today, is the deadline for submissions for our zine!

You can read the submissions details here.

Or you can check out our facebook event here.

The main thing is that we have lots of amazing poetry to make our first zine something really special.

Looking forward to seeing your work!

In the mean time, here’s John Keating (aka Robin Williams) telling the class in Dead Poets’ Society why we write poetry:


Carpe Diem

Today we’re going for something a little different: a philosophy rather than a poem. Though of course, it is poetry related. If it weren’t, it wouldn’t be on our site.

Carpe diem.

‘Seize the day’.

It’s a Latin phrase, largely popularised by the filmDead Poets’ Society.

If you haven’t already seen Dead Poets’ Society, I would recommend watching it sooner rather than later. It’s a must for any aspiring writer / poet / artist – or just for anyone who wants to take a hold of life and run with it. Not to mention, it’s a tear jerker (though no more on that – we wouldn’t want to ruin the ending).

Here’s the famous ‘Carpe Diem’ clip from the film:

Tastebuds tantalised? Go and watch the rest! You won’t be disappointed.

And in case you’re interested, here are the poems mentioned in the clip in their entirety:


To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time:
by Robert Herrick

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
   Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
   Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, 
   The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
   And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
   When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
   Times still succeed the former. 

Then be not coy, but use your time,
   And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
   You may forever tarry.



O Captain! My Captain!
by Walt Whitman

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up–for you the flag is flung–for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths–for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

And just in case we hadn’t spoiled you enough, here’s a video with Vincent Price reading Whitman’s poem:


Poems taken from: