The poet laureate of the state of Alabama is currently held by Andrew Glaze who was named in July 2012. Much of Glaze's poetry reflects his coming of age in the South as his poems deal with the human condition in all its aspects. In addition to being the recipient of Poetry magazine's Eunice Tietjens Award, Glaze has won a National Hackney Award, and his selected poems, Someone Will Go On Owing, received the Best Book of the Year Award from the Southeastern Booksellers' Association in 1998.

upcoming events

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Oct 28 2017
Alabama State Poetry Society fall meeting

Meet and greet starts at 9, and the meeting will start at 9:30. Special guest speakers to be announced! The meeting will cost $20 for ASPS members, $35 for nonmembers, and $15 for lunch. . 

1000 Bruce Etheridge Parkway
35128 Pell City, Alabama
Oct 27 2017
Fall round robin poetry reading - Alabama State Poetry Society

Bring your works in progress to the round robin reading aboard the Coosa Queen paddle boat on beautiful Lake Logan Martin. The boat only holds 34, so be sure to register early to reserve your spot! Food will be served on the boat. The event is being held in conjunction with the Alabama State Poetry Society fall meeting, which will start the next day. To register, email

7:00pm to 9:00pm
101 Marina Street
(for boarding only)
35135 Riverside, Alabama

recent & featured listings

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Writing Program University of Alabama Program in Creative Writing Alabama
Literary Magazine Black Warrior Review Alabama
Literary Magazine Birmingham Poetry Review Alabama
Literary Magazine Southern Humanities Review Alabama
Poetry-Friendly Bookstore Alabama Booksmith Alabama
Poetry-Friendly Bookstore Gibson's Books Alabama
Poetry-Friendly Bookstore Jim Reed Books Alabama
Poetry-Friendly Bookstore Black Classics Books & Gifts Alabama
Literary Organization Alabama Writers' Forum Alabama
Literary Organization Alabama State Poetry Society Alabama



River was my first word
after mama.
I grew up with the names of rivers
on my tongue: the Coosa,
the Tallapoosa, the Black Warrior;
the sound of their names
as native to me as my own.

I walked barefoot along the brow of Lookout Mountain
with my father, where

Those four black girls blown up
in that Alabama church
remind me of five hundred
middle passage blacks,
in a net, under water
in Charleston harbor
so redcoats wouldn't find them.
Can't find what you can't see
can you?
My mother scraped the name Patricia Ann from the ruins
of her discarded Delta, thinking it would offer me shield
and shelter, that leering men would skulk away at the slap
of it. Her hands on the hips of Alabama, she went for flat
and functional, then siphoned each syllable of drama,
repeatedly crushing it with