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Dainty Dreams in Downpour

Anahadhbir Singh·March 6, 2023

Dainty Dreams in Downpour written by: Anahadhbir Singh The summer fire was burning hot the famished falcon...

Poetry English

·1 min read

The Hayloft

Justin Deming·October 24, 2022

The Hayloft written by: Justin Deming @j_deming_ The barn sat back from the road, abandoned. One swift...

Literature Halloween English

·1 min read

Locust Hill: Chapter 5, a series by Carl Parsons at Spillwords.com

Locust Hill: Chapter V

Carl Parsons·September 6, 2022

Locust Hill Chapter V Keepsakes written by: Carl Parsons 5.1 After the planting was completed, we all...

Featured Post Carl Parsons Locust Hill Literature English

·12 mins read

Locust Hill: Chapter 4, series by Carl Parsons at Spillwords.com

Locust Hill: Chapter IV

Carl Parsons·August 7, 2022

Locust Hill Chapter IV Farm Work written by: Carl Parsons 4.1 After the confrontation with my parents,...

Literature English Featured Post Carl Parsons Locust Hill

·32 mins read

Locust Hill: Chapter 3- Parents by Carl Parsons at Spillwords.com

Locust Hill: Chapter III

Carl Parsons·July 3, 2022

Locust Hill Chapter III Parents written by: Carl Parsons After pledging themselves to each other, Jim and...

Literature Carl Parsons Locust Hill English Featured Post

·24 mins read

Locust Hill: Chapter 2 - Proposal written by Carl Parsons at Spillwords.com

Locust Hill: Chapter II

Carl Parsons·June 5, 2022

Locust Hill Chapter II Proposal written by: Carl Parsons 2.1 As the spring of our senior year...

Featured Post Carl Parsons Literature Locust Hill English

·33 mins read

Locust Hill: Chapter 1- Courtship at El Caballito, series by Carl Parsons at Spillwords.com

Locust Hill: Chapter I

Carl Parsons·May 1, 2022

Locust Hill Chapter I Courtship at El Caballito written by: Carl Parsons 1 I met my farmer...

English Carl Parsons Locust Hill Featured Post Literature

·20 mins read

A Night in Kyiv

Gerry Stefanson·April 23, 2022

A Night in Kyiv written & performed by: Gerry Stefanson Still, it is so cold, pushed into...

Poetry English

·1 min read

Concord Hymn

Spillwords·July 4, 2021

Concord Hymn a poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their...

Literary Greats Poetry English

·1 min read

The Ballad of Ned

Annette Tarpley·March 25, 2021

The Ballad of Ned written by: Annette Tarpley Long ago, and oh so far away, in the...

Poetry English

·1 min read

Black Hail

Peter Farrar·January 11, 2021

Black Hail written by: Peter Farrar The rains broke but it was too late. They’d approached from...

Literature English

·10 mins read

Evening A Poetry

Atul Shagird·December 9, 2020

Poetry English International

·1 min read

The Stone In The Soup

JPK·October 13, 2020

The Stone In The Soup written by: JPK A beggarman came and he sat alone by the...

English Featured Post Poetry

·1 min read

The Lightbulb Farmer

Stephanie Musarra·January 18, 2020

The Lightbulb Farmer written by: Stephanie Musarra @dungeonwriter39 “George, are you using the drone to spy on the...

English Literature

·1 min read

Suman Pokhrel is a Nepali poet, lyricist, playwright, translator, and artist. He debuted in 1999 with a poetry collection and has since published works, including translations of Shakespeare and global poets. His poems are translated into many languages and taught across South Asia. A two-time SAARC Literary Awardee, he also received Asia’s Inspiring Poet Award and was named Author of the Month by Spillwords in June 2023. Beyond literature, he works as a freelance consultant in socio-economic research, rural development, entrepreneurial development and creative writing. He began his career in Nepal’s civil service and later worked with international NGOs. He holds degrees in Science, Law, Business Administration, and Economics.

Condoms by Seán Óg Ó Murchú

They all laughed at me. All the dinner ladies. It started with your one, I’m after forgetting her name now… Smelly Nelly’s ma. A wet little tear trickled toward her tattooed cheekbone. She was roaring red. Her harsh, wheezing laughter sounded like a black taxi tackling the Whiterock Road, her throat destroyed from all the fegs she used to be hoofing into her. She called over the other dinner ladies then, an army of them. Or maybe it was the curiosity of her horrid laughing that brought them over… I can’t remember.
“Tell the girls what you’re only after asking me there ni wee mawn.”
I looked between herself and the girls. Jesus Christ, I said in my own mind, Mental Mick is after stealing all my crayons that I’d been hoarding for myself there before the break...

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