the tide rises, the tide falls | an oceanic literary magazine
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we want your poetry, whatever that means to you. our only requirement is that it is at least loosely based on henry wadsworth longfellow's poem "the tide rises, the tide falls" in structure, theme, or subject.
do beware that our publishing software doesn't handle formatting very well, so think twice before you submit a work heavily dependent on visual presentation. for an example of what the display would look like, we'd encourage you to look at the page of "ghost ship" by charlotte oliver. (thetiderises.org/read/ghost-ship)
we consider submissions on a rolling basis. reprints are welcome, as long as you own the right to do so. simultaneous submissions are allowed as well, and if you need to withdraw your piece for any reason, please email us immediately. we retain the right to feature your work on our website indefinitely, in any audio and visual formats, and (hopefully) in a future print anthology. everything else is yours :)
unfortunately, we aren't able to pay authors at this time; however, we will actively promote your writing and nominate for awards like best of net and pushcart.
if you do not receive a response from us within two weeks, please notify us via email.
submitters should know...
we will not publish hate speech of any kind, and we reserve the right to rescind an acceptance if we learn of an author or a work's intolerance.
we want (and try) to be an ally to everybody in the poetry community, especially if you are lgbtqia+, bipoc, of mixed heritage, neurodivergent, disabled, and/or a woman. we know it can be tough to get your voices out there, but we want to read your amazing, beautiful poetry.
The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveller hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveller to the shore,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
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