Some Thoughts on Rejecting Poems

I use two or three different form letters to reject poems, and only rarely do I comment on a rejection. When I do comment on a rejection, I offer some editorial advice and ask to see a revised version of the work that piqued my interest the most in that person's submissions. On five or six occassions, I've accepted and published revised and resubmitted work.

But most of the poems I read that come through my inbox don't make the cut. This isn't unusual. Poetry Midwest publishes roughly 25-35 pieces per issue, out of 750-1,000 pieces submitted per reading period (based on a rough estimate of 250-350 email messages x 3 poems per email). So why do I reject what I reject? Quite frankly, sometimes people submit poems they shouldn't submit because the poem isn't polished yet. But here's a quick list, off the top of my head and in no particular order, of why I decline to use work submitted for consideration:

Not following the submission guidelines (yes, this is a big one, folks!)

Weak imagery

Reliance on adverbs and adjectives instead of verbs and nouns

Simple rhyme

Too many cliches

Mixed metaphors

Mixed imagery

I'm grumpy & tired

The work doesn't fit thematically in the issue that's taking shape (I don't do theme issues, but you can often find several poems in a row that have a nice ebb and flow to them in the pages of Poetry Midwest)

The writer has burned me before in some way (yanking already accepted work, submitting work that I find online elsewhere, etc.)

The work looks like it's been written by e.e. cummings but the writer possesses none of the wit and/or tenacity and/or understanding of the linguistic use of typography to imply meaning

Not enough punctuation

Too much punctuation

Grammatically nonsensical

Not enough cowbell

What I'd love to do on some rejections is really go off on the person. But I restrain myself. I'm a nice guy, afterall, who only puts on an asshole front to intimidate students, car salesmen, and telemarketers. Yet I get great joy out of reading Professor Roy and the Amazingly Bad Poetry Journal. You will, too.