Conclave (Spring 2016): Writing for Change

Dear Friends,

My heart is touched deeply because my short story, “The Price of Fruit,” was published by Conclave (Spring 2016). It is a true story.

I want to thank Lara Bernhardt and William Bernhardt, the editors of CONCLAVE inspiring art, literature, and the voices for change.   

This is a great opportunity to read poems and stories about change. Order your copy now and please don’t forget to leave a review after you have read it!

Thank you! Gracias. Muchas gracias!

Maria Elena

BorderSenses Literary & Arts Journal

I’m honored to have the poem “Gloria of Palenque” selected as a finalist among beautiful and poignant poems, fiction, and art for the anthology by Bordersenses, Volume 21, Fall 2015.

The juror for the poetry contest was Luis Alberto Urrea. The poetry contest winners were Natalia Trevino, Leslie Marie Aguilar, and Kate Kingston. Bravas!!!

BordersensesGloria of Palenque 
She would not give birth again 
under the palm tree roof 
of her cabaña. She would not stand 
one more day in dirt, digging,
her knuckles pitted against masa,
and watch her five children do the same.
She would not look at the only future
or her oldest son: a taxi driver 
for the small village in Palenque.
Eight times she walked across the border—
the weight of each step buried
in sand, her breath held as long as she could.

Read the entire poem and collection in Vol 21 here>>

Fredericksburg Literary & Art Review

Special thanks to A.E. Bayne, editor-in-chief for the Fredericksburg flrLiterary & Art Review (Fall 2015), for publishing my poem Down the Orinoco, a very personal and close poem to my heart.

Down the Orinoco

I wanted to run to cascades of falling
rain under the cloak
of Amazon leaves and
peel mangoes with our teeth
down the Orinoco.
I wanted to present your face
to the Inca Sun
so when your name was sung by the long-beak toucan
we could fly south with the sparrows
and take refuge under the bells
in La Plaza de San Martín.

Read more about this issue and the poem Down the Orinoco on page 114:

Fredericksburg Review


Under The Radar Magazine in the UK

Nine Arches Press

Under the Radar Magazine, Nine Arches Press, Maria Elena B. Mahler

I am thrilled and honored to have two poems published by Under the Radar Magazine, the flagship publication at Nine Arches Press in the United Kingdom.

“:What the Wind Abandoned”  and “What Was I Thinking”

This magazine is always their best selling publications, so be sure to grab a copy whilst they’re in stock, or take out a great value four-issue subscription!

Buy your copy here

Poetry Editors: Jane Commane & Matt Merritt

Reviews Editor: Maria Taylor

Under the Radar Issue 15 (Summer 2015) is out now and features:

new poetry by: Shanta Acharya • Michael Bartholomew-Biggs • Clare Best • Annie Brechin • Alan Buckley • David Calcutt •Helen Calcutt • Neil Campbell • Barbara Cumbers • Gram Joel Davies • Rich Goodson • Mark Goodwin • Norman Hadley • Stuart Henson • Tania Hershman • Sarah James • Tess Jolly • Wendy Klein • Pippa Little • Maria Elena B. Mahler • Rachel Mann • Pat Marum • Martin Monahan • Rennie Parker • Stephen Payne • Ilse Pedler • Stuart Pickford • Wendy Pratt • Peter Raynard • Kevin Reid • Karl Riordan • Jacqueline Saphra • Sue Spiers • Ruth Stacey • William Stephenson • Louise Warren • Bogusia Wardein • Alice Willington

Plus Original Short Fiction by:

Jane McLaughlin • Brindley Hallam Dennis

Plus reviews and articles. What will you discover?

Purchase or subscribe to Under the Radar magazine here if you like>>

Mapping the Artist: Maria Elena B. Mahler

Colorado Boulevard

An interview with Maria Elena B. Mahler, an autobiographical writer, editor, and poet of great sensitivity.

Maria Elena brings us along on her personal adventure. She makes her home in nature wherever she is.

By Kathabela Wilson
A Telescope on the poet

I sense in your gentle, bright, and dynamic nature, a kinship with the earth, a simplicity and richness that is unique and inspiring, where did this all begin?

“I was born and raised in the South of Chile, in Valdivia, also known as The Pearl of the South. I spent many vacations at the small farm my great-grandfather owned in the outskirts of La Paz, a small village in the land of the Mapuches. Maria Elena B. Mahler. My grandmother, Muty, took care of him towards the end of his life. She worked in the large garden in the back that contained every vegetable and fruit one can imagine. We loved feeding the chickens, the cow, and the pig, and then we played all day in the mud. I admire her in so many ways and every day more. I visit her each year in Chile, where she still lives, at 94, content in the small sweet home she built herself. I make sure to spend time in the richness of the Patagonian coast surrounded by pristine native forests with ample views from the Andes to the Pacific. The South of Chile has been my home and, like Neruda, my connection to nature.”

Read the complete interview on Colorado>>

Moon Wanes While Fish Wait

Beyond The Lyric Moment

Anthology Beyond The Lyric Moment

Moon Wanes While Fish Wait

I didn’t tell you, caballero
the moon wanes
while fish wait impatient.

Don’t know why, mister,
you ignore
the idle spin of mountains of wheat.

You forget the spear that counts the minutes
to run through each vertebrae of a beast

then burn slowly over the orange bed
while you salivate over a morsel.

I didn’t tell you, señor,
that hope
will not elongate the train

nor the journey you take. For in both
you mourn

the taste of winter persimmons
between your teeth and your

tongue slowly swells
you will not bite the black fruit.

Don’t know why, sir,
you don’t listen
to the rusty hinges of

the black gate
announcing your sleep.
A great knot inside your throat

and your hands plead
to stop the unthinkable.

But you were waiting for me. You knew I was coming.


Poem published in the anthology Beyond the Lyric Moment (Tebot Bach 2014). An Anthology of Poetry Inspired by Southern California Workshops with David St. John.

3 Poems Published by Saint Julian Press

A Voided Day

In this hollow moment
I fall down into something
that is nothing
and all around looks the same.

The lifeless past has settled
in my vacant cells
and there are no tickets left for a ride
for tomorrow.

A colorless vacuum surrounds me
and hums a muted song.

I wish to see a speck
ignite in plainness, a pin
pierce through numbness,
blossoms of jasmine burst in blankness.

But I suffocate in the emptiness,
beg to return through the tunnel
and feel the veil
wipe away this face.


Forever Ticket

It’s dawn again and like a circus camel
I wander through deserts

emanating a viridian scent, enticing travelers
and annoying dreamers.

Fragments of mirrors sparkle in the sand
like belladonna

intoxicating the steps
of the one who forgets ink

runs out
before the story ends.

Like puppets we bow and smile again at dawn
to the canescent audience

clapping to forget
we all met the life before.


When the Nightingale No Longer Thrills

white smoke lingers
suspended by fingers
rises slowly
through sun rays
in a shadowed room
the cone glows
in silent red
so distant
so dismissed
like the brutal beacon
we veil in dark
behind the lies
we tell ourselves and
on our birthdays
at times
in those special times
when the nightingale
no longer thrills
and the silver moonlight
leaves petals
to flatline
in ash
like the cone
in just a few breaths
all that will remain
and be remembered
is the scent
of champa