January 2003

I think it was some 1,5 years ago I was surfing the net and I visited a website www.poetry.com, featured by the International Library of Poetry (maybe this already starts ringing bells...). It was a nice site, stuffed with all kinds of information on (yet to be discovered) poets and they even had a free poetry contest to which you could submit your own poetry. I was excited, me as a starting poet. It would be a nice opportunity to see if what I wrote had any value to somebody else than me, so I submitted some five poems. Not with first intention to get into that contest, just to get it posted and have it read by other people.
Thrilled I was, like... REALLY thrilled, when I received a letter in the mail, not e-mail, but real good old-fashioned genuine snail-mail, that I reached the semi-finals of the contest with one of the poems that I submitted. My poem was selected from all the other entries because of my excellent skills and originality and unique visions and was going up for the 1.000 $ prize of the contest and right now, at this stadium as a semi-finalist, I was already automatically running for the annual grand prize of 10.000 $ which was going to be awarded at some poetry symposium in Washington.
And last but not least: the poem was going to be published in an anthology which was going to be printed that summer.
The only thing I had to do was to check the poem for possible errors and sign for authorization of publication. And of course, there was no obligation, but I could make sure that I would get a copy of the anthology by checking a box on the form, it costed only 59,95 $ plus p+p.
Blinded by the success and acknowledgement of my skills as poet I purchased the book.
I informed a friend of mine, also a (wannabe) writer, about what just had happened and gave him the URL to the website and he also submitted his poetry.
Little alarmbells started ringing when he called me after two weeks telling me that he, too, had received a letter that his poem had been selected and had gone through to the semi-finals of the contest and was going to be published in the same book as my poem. It was exactly the same letter, but with his name on top.
I left my order for the book, but he didn't reply to it anymore, very well aware of the dubious situation. His poem wasn't published in the book.
I didn't win the monthly prize, but I was still going for the Annual Grand Prize. I got frequent letters from them about all kind of things and ofcourse the invitation to the symposium in Washington. They could offer me, as an excellent skilled poet, a great offer for my stay there as a VIP-member of the International Society of Poets. Membership costed only some 150 $ per year and then I would get my stay for the great offer of just under 1.000 $ (for three nights) and that was excluding the flight to Washington, of course.

At the end of the summer I received my book. It looked quite ok, basic book with a hard cover and a full color picture on the cover.
I happen to be a graphic specialist, so I can tell how much the production of a book costs when I see it, and even if this book looked ok, the production costs of it were not more than maybe 10 $.

In addition I also received letters that I had won two special awards, which would be given to at the Symposium.
I never had the intention to really go to Washington, even if I wouldn't have suspected anything, but I had regained my vision already at that point and was no longer blinded by this drooling bunch. I decided to experiment a little.
I received number of e-mails from a guy named Steven Michaels, managing editor at poetry.com, confirming the letters that I got and putting the same information there as in the letters just to be sure that I was updated with the latest info.
I sent him an e-mail back, in which I sincerely apologised for the fact that I couldn't be present at the symposium in Washington. I told him that he could send the awards to the address that I had submitted with the poem and if I might happen to win the Annual Grand Prize, he should contact me and I would give him my bank account information so that he could transfer the 10.000 $ to my account.
Much to my surprise I actually got a personal reply from this Mr Michaels, telling me how sorry he was to inform me that for winning the Annual Grand Prize I had to be personally present in Washington. He COULD make sure though, for only a little fee of 195 $ that my poem was read to the people by someone of the Library.
And as for the awards: to obtain them I had to be either present in Washington, or then I could purchase them if I couldn't come. The price of the awards was some 225 $ plus p+p (each!), which would come close to 300 $ (each) in total, because those things had a solid marble foot of over 10 cms (5") and were stupidly heavy.
I never reacted to that anymore after that, my point was proven. And not to mention of course the keywords "poetry" and "scam" in search engines. Poetry.com scores the highest score possible.
The mail was reduced to none for over a year and I had forgotten all about it. My ego had had time to restore itself from the dumbness that I let myself go through and I'd gone on with my writings.
Until this month, when I received an e-mail from Mr Howard Ely, managing editor at poetry.com. He told me that another of my poems had entered the semi-finals of the contest and was selected to be published in a new anthology which is going to be printed this summer.
Duh...
I guess I'm in their database of nerds who are stupid enough to buy their story.

      TO BE CONTINUED!

Read also Poetry scam(s), Part II.