Hello, Miracle readers!
Welcome to the second of our Miracle Team features. Today we will be meeting Poetry Editor Kieran Rundle.
Interview
Questions by Elizabeth Gibson
EG: Could you briefly introduce yourself?
KR: Hi! I’m Kieran Rundle and I’m a high school student from Virginia.
I work on our high school’s Literary Art Magazine’s staff and also have begun to run my own magazine, Sincerely Magazine.
EG: What sort of writing do you do?
KR: I mainly write dark poetry and short fiction stories.
EG: What does writing mean to you?
KR: Writing means everything to me, it is how I breathe and I think. It is the connection between my thoughts and my reality and everything in between. Writing has become a second nature in my every day life and process. It has such power to sway readers into emotions, thoughts, ideas, and produce even more.
EG: How did you get into writing?
KR: I’ve been writing since before I could hold a pencil. It’s just always been a part of who I am.
EG: Who or what inspires you?
KR: Everything around me inspires me, the people, settings, conversations, the world is full of inspiration if we only know how to look for it.
EG: What are your current projects?
KR: I’m currently working on a one-act script for a new play competition in October with the Virginia Theater Association.
EG: What are your plans for the future?
KR: I plan on continuing my magazine work through high school and college, studying either writing or science.
EG: What advice do you have for writers?
KR: Keep writing and editing, the more you work and practice both of those skills the better your writing and editing skills will become. Don’t skip through the editing process either, that’s the biggest part of writing.
EG: What do you look for in submissions?
KR: As a poetry editor I usually look for a unique central theme or idea that is carried through the entire poem, along with nice rhythm or flow that is consistent with the word usage.
A sample of Kieran's work
The Girl on the Rock
The sun slunk back
across the bleeding sky.
It cast a rusty shine
over rocks piled high.
The formation was suspended
above the trees in the wood.
The girl sat on the tippy top
as high up as she could.
Her happy laughter sang
across the cinnamon light
as she watched the autumn day
turn into a chilly blue night.
Back in the fading forest
she heard her family call,
but she turned up her cheeks
and embraced the bright fall.
Out over the tall rocks
the woods rustled, untamed.
Crimson, sunburst, pomegranate
the colors grew like flames.
They spread out of the greens
with starbursts of hues.
The girl breathed it all in
and then out she blew.
Then with a final look
she turned to go back,
to climb down the rock
to where her family sat.
She heard them call out again
and made to reply
but the only noise she made
was a delicate sigh.
She had a little more to go
before reaching the land.
Her hand held rock
but her foot slipped on sand.
Her scream shrilled out
shattering hope’s light.
Her foot dangled uselessly
and her hand held her from plight.
The girl screeched again
as her fingers began to slip.
She tried to scrabble upward
but could not get a grip.
In what seemed an infinity
her palm began to slide.
It could no longer hold the rock,
the moon released the tide.
She wafted down backwards,
her eyes wide on the sky.
The clouds seemed to stare
and whisper goodbye.
The girl heard her family
running to the rock.
But she could not speak,
nor could she stop.
The forest, like a vulture,
closed in around her head.
She fell to earth like a moonbeam,
but hit the ground, dead.
Hello, Miracle readers!
Welcome is the first on a series of features showcasing the wonderful Miracle team. Today we will be getting to know Steven Fortune, one of our Poetry Editors.
Interview
Questions by Elizabeth Gibson
EG: Could you briefly introduce yourself?
SF: My name is Steven Fortune and I hail from Nova Scotia, Canada.
I live in a town called Glace Bay and have experimented with city life, but was ultimately drawn back to my home province, or chased back, depending on my mood as I reflect on those days. I have a degree in English Literature and History.
EG: What sort of writing do you do?
SF: I write poetry, mostly free verse but I dabble in fixed forms to keep the pencil sharp. As a proud holder of no musical talent whatsoever, I'm a Bernie Taupin hoping to cross paths with an Elton John one of these days. That would be my dream job.
EG: What does writing mean to you?
SF: Discovery. Discovery of self, of new worlds within worlds, of the latest universe in the infinity of the imagination.
EG: How did you get into writing?
SF: Like many writers, I got into writing through reading and music. My parents were music lovers, and their record collection was my first muse.
EG: Who or what inspires you?
SF: My late Dad. It was not until he passed away that I began to find myself in magazines after countless failed attempts at being found in them. My Mom also remains an inspiration and a source of unconditional support, along with a small group of friends who make up an informal literary circle. I also find inspiration in my living room window; the scenery has not changed as long as I've lived here, yet most of my ideas come to me while looking out.
EG: What are your current projects?
SF: I recently signed a deal for my first book, which I'm slated to begin working on in the Fall. The Summer will be spent working on the manuscript, which will be in flux as I rediscover old pieces and concieve new ones. This whole writing gig started as a hobby and will finish as one when I do, but never would I have imagined it evolving to this stage.
EG: What are your plans for the future?
SF: To wake up tomorrow; if I do that, hopefully I'll write. If I can't write, hopefully I'll read. If I can't read, I'll look out the window.
EG: What advice do you have for writers?
SF: Don't be afraid to be yourself. Don't be afraid to be someone else. Don't be afraid to be yourself pretending to be someone else. And look out any window you may come across; every one is a story waiting to be told.
EG: What do you look for in submissions?
SF: As a poetry editor, I look for subtlety in poetic devices: rhyme schemes that are hardly noticeable in their seamlessness, inverted rhymes in free verse, big words that become small within a rhythm and flow..."endearment" instead of "love," "existence" instead of "life," "darling" instead of "baby."
A selection of Steven's work
A YES-MAN'S MOMENT OF CLARITY
The grains with
which I accept
all insistences are
disassembled
assemblages
of the sweetest salt
Nothing like an oxymoron
to consign
a benign blackball
to the trifle of silence
deemed to be awkward
by the insisters
And by benign
I mean
merciful
In my circumstantial mercy
they'll find an ante-inflating
irony hungry for the hand
of the oxymorons
I am capable of spawning
The ruins of the bed
in which I made nullified
love to my precious Psyche
are what they should be
studying
If they aspire to prolong
their insistent rhetoric
in my verbal vicinity
I will poison them
with the sweet salt left
behind by my beloved
Psyche
when the flower of her being
was inhaled with a failed
vacuum of vengeance
Satisfaction and timidity
I thought I could
comingle to seduce
I won't make that mistake
again
CANDLE LOGIC
Let's apply oblation to our hardships
Obliterate the temptation
to trip on languid lower lips
imprisoning our stiffer upper lips
Let's apply oblation to our grief
Freeze the imitation waterfalls
of hot wax sliding through
the slippery stalagmites
scaling the perimeters of
our duet of melting candles
Let us groom the fire for oblation
like the old Greeks did and
take a flyer on the
possibility of comfort
Let us take a lesson from
the pond of hot wax
destined to rebel and drown
the wick before it brands
lethargy on the local phoenix
INTROVERT
A painless day
An extreme haircut
A graphic pierce
Immaculate sunblock
greasing up the impact
of night's thud
from the morning freefall
Stares of admiration
open-ended
for the lack of notice
or acknowledgement
but a painless day
of numbed moods
and nil to lose
in loss of mind
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