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Incredible Buys on all H&H Press inventory!
New print and web editions now available.

Welcome to miller's pond, a poetry site that welcomes poets with a wide range of poetic styles, structures, and subjects. 

As of 2009, miller's pond is no longer a print publication.  The web version is published 3 times a year.  The editor, Julie Damerell, only accepts electronic submissions for the web version, and there is no payment for publication.  Submissions can be sent any time but are only read before the fall semester and between the spring and fall semesters.

The Winter 2017 miller's pond (Volume 20, Issue 1), with 11 poets and 20 poems, is available NOW!

Any submissions received from this point will be considered for the Spring 2017 issue and may not be read until sometime in April. Simultaneous submissions and previously published poems are welcome.

Please see the Guidelines for further information on how to submit to miller's pond. Poets who don't get an email either accepting or declining their submissions are the poets who didn't follow the guidelines!

Our shelves are overflowing with past issues of miller's pond and we need to make room for future book projects! 
ON SALE NOW - ALL MILLER'S POND POETRY issues from 1998 through 2004
 only $1 each!

Save on shipping - purchase all 7 issues - get a bonus book - Words of Wisdom - plus $3.50 s&h.

This incredible sale won't last.
Purchase via our bookstore

Each issue of miller's pond in the on-line version is archived and accessible for your enjoyment.  And most of our print copies are still available for sale. 
Please help support the magazine for future publications by buying a copy of two. 
Also check out the poetry chapbooks published by H&H Press, available in our bookstore.

February 2016 poems by Julie Damerell


in my pocket coins
for three wishes, a clock
telling how long your absence

to close the hole a snip of gold
thread, crumbs to find my way back
to unlock your heart, a key


Up on the roof, olive branch
just out of reach, I trace
your face in the clouds.

Through open windows, the flight
of her fingers, her voice lifting
a tapesty of woes, closes

a circle started so many years ago.
Shelter from hunger and cold
not as simple as the smile

on your face, but it’s beautiful, yes,
in the morning rain. My fingers
find the branch by your side
where I want to be.