The Scarecrow is a monthly literary and art journal founded in the January of 2017. The Scarecrow’s mission is to bring to light new and emerging artists and writers, those finding difficulty catching a break in publishing outside of their own blog or notebook, and those who are too shy or not confident in their work to have a platform in which to share. The Scarecrow accepts fiction and non-fiction works; essays, short stories, poetry of any kind, and anything else masterfully written, as well as art; photography, drawing and design, and whatever else you have created! We aim to publish as many submission as humanly possible and provide feedback where possible. As a small publisher we cannot offer monetary reward for submissions.
The name The Scarecrow comes from a villanelle the editor wrote that proved impossible to have published elsewhere. We hope this journal can provide an outlet for struggling writers and artists! Read the poem below if you please.
All submissions are welcome, but please read our guidelines before submitting your work. Some months will have a theme, others will not. Please check the submission page.
Presently, The Scarecrow is a one woman show, so please be patient!
Direct all questions to thescarecrowjournal@gmail.com
Experimental Journey I (The Scarecrow)
A figure masked by cloth and camphor fumes,
In all the gloom devours unforeseen louse,
All clocks and time dissolve to winds of plumes.
In all the gloom devours unforeseen louse,
All clocks and time dissolve to winds of plumes.
Poor child alone with mind ever more in tombs,
An umbrella for leg and no school house,
A figure masked by cloth and camphor fumes.
An umbrella for leg and no school house,
A figure masked by cloth and camphor fumes.
Toward the starving grace that is the wombs,
All limbs flounder toward the harvest mouse,
All clocks and time dissolve to winds of plumes.
All limbs flounder toward the harvest mouse,
All clocks and time dissolve to winds of plumes.
A truant and whiskey hound, your blossoms bloom,
A lady paints her face and darns her blouse,
A figure masked by cloth and camphor fumes.
A lady paints her face and darns her blouse,
A figure masked by cloth and camphor fumes.
The stale tobacco smoke seeps through the room,
The rats in the grain flee to the whore house,
All clocks and time dissolve to winds of plumes.
The rats in the grain flee to the whore house,
All clocks and time dissolve to winds of plumes.
The burnt sailors find a seraph to groom,
Peacocks birth mirrors for thunder to rouse,
A figure masked by cloth and camphor fumes.
All clocks and time dissolve to winds of plumes.
Peacocks birth mirrors for thunder to rouse,
A figure masked by cloth and camphor fumes.
All clocks and time dissolve to winds of plumes.