Gnashing Teeth Publishing

| words that get in your teeth

call for submissions – SHE: Seen. Heard. Engaged.

open for submissions

announcing the call for submissions for the upcoming anthology SHE: Seen. Heard. Engaged. Female and female-identifying youth ages 8-18 are encouraged to submit to this important anthology. we are looking for poetry, flash fiction, creative non-fiction, short essays, and artwork describing the experience of being a girl in America at this time in history.

a lot is happening at this time in history. the feelings and attitudes of youth are often not considered. but young women have strong opinions about their future, their values, and the causes they take up and fight. there are no judgments here, no parents or teachers and classmates telling you what to say, feel, believe. put it all on the page.

submissions are being accepted through January 31, 2021. you will be notified by February 28, 2021, if your piece is selected for inclusion in the anthology. view the complete call for submissions here.

we are committed to including underrepresented voices. we encourage all female and female-identifying youth aged 8-18 to submit regardless of race, color, ancestry, religion, sexual orientation, citizenship status, ability, or national origin.

young woman with red hair smiling at the camera with a white paper umbrella behind her

like pretty tulips by linda m. crate

everything has been hard and heavy, as of late; in my world and the world at large— so yesterday i was drinking in small wonders like pretty tulips dancing out

What I Can Offer You by Rich Orloff

I cannot fix your pain I cannot solve your problem I can’t prevent the sorrow you’re feeling Or even guarantee I’ll make you smile However, because I’ve known Joy embracing

by Natalye Childress

*this poem is in .jpg to preserve formatting *this is the unformatted text of the poem after rainer maria rilke you, the poet, have become world weary, word-wrought. and god

guy with a dark beard and moustache wearing a black graphic tee

Orchards of Udders by Jon Wesick

dripped on the blanket while air rustled tamarind trees. Chekhov drank a Thai iced tea and plummeted out of this poem. A flock of circles twittered in the hacksaw bushes

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