Submission Policy

Mel BrakE Press acquires first serial rights to all work published. Mel BrakE Press also reserves the right to electronically archive any content published.

All other rights revert to author upon publication.

Mel BrakE Press has a liberal submission policy, and will accept poetry manuscripts (not books) for its next publication cycle, the Spring of 2018.

We do not charge a reading fee. We DO NOT PAY TO PUBLISH YOUR WORK.

We only accept submissions via email for collection of poems. Please send no more than 3-5 pages of poetry as an email attachment using standard MS format. We do not accept epic manuscripts:10 pages or more will be rejected.

Please note in subject line: "Submission".

Manuscripts that do not follow our guidelines
will be subject to rejection. We do not publish books.

Direct submissions or questions to:

Thank you

Monday, February 3, 2014


The Poetry of Jason Constantine Ford

Jason Constantine Ford is from Perth in Australia. He works as an employee at a book shop. He has over fifteen years of experience in studying various styles of poetry. The major influences on his style of poetry are William Blake, Edgar Alan Poe and Gerard Manley Hopkins. Blake’s ability to address the social issues of his time through poetry and painting has had a lasting impact upon Jason’s early years. For correspondence, contact Jason at

Death in the Woods

The taste of many brittle years already spread
Across paddocks without a drop of rain
Is bitterness profound as Death begins to tread
Upon the graves of names which still remain.
Death is slowly passing through the woods alone
With many kinds of trees becoming prone
To loss of grip among the aging leaves
Succumbing to the might which Death receives.
The air surrounding Death becomes so strong
As winds impose a sense of might upon each tree.
The branches shaking left and right, belong
To the dance of Death declaring how all things should be.
The curse which came upon the ones who died
With wounds inflicted by the sword of pride
Is kept beneath the ground until the day
Death decides to spread to other forms of prey.
Thoughts Following a Storm

After the raging storm has calmed unto a state
Where I am standing safe, secure, away from harm,
The waves are tamed with gentleness which I equate
With soothing scent of nard and feel of healing balm.

Although the waves no longer crash against the shore
With power that exceeds the strength of many hands,
Fragments of intellect of mine remain unsure
Concerning matters that I fail to understand.

Shall raging storm return as coming back to life
And spread a trail of fear among a people blind?
Am I a dreamer who attempts to think of strife
Which only seems to breath inside my mind?

 A Path into the Raging Water

Despite the depths of raging sea
And troubles vast, a man embarks
Upon a quest without the company
Of tools which ward away the sharks.
He starts his quest with tool of steel
Inside a loincloth that prepares to deal
With countless waves arising high
Above the height of watchful eye.

With only loincloth and a simple blade,
The man of strength is diving straight
Into the depths of dangers now displayed
As raging waters that cannot abate.
Although he swims the depths as one alone
With tender muscle that surrounds each bone,
The dangers that confront his chosen goal
Cannot remove his lasting strength of soul.

Eclipse at the Gates

Denial walks from place to place
Without a sense of grave disgrace
From keeping lips which never talk.

The men renowned for hiding face
With veils denying any trace
Of what is real, begin to walk.

A book of lies is being carried
Upon the backs of men married
To form of creed which oscillates.

Shadows are passing through the street
With steps which now complete
The final stage of reaching gates.

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