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Hour To Evacuate

Robyn MacKinnon·May 30, 2021

Hour To Evacuate written by: Robyn MacKinnon @art_rat it’s early o’ clock hour to evacuate I never...

Robyn MacKinnon Poetry English Robyn Finds Poetry

·1 min read

Timeless

Joan McNerney·January 8, 2021

Timeless written by: Joan McNerney They announced it over radio and there was a bulletin on television....

Poetry English

·1 min read

Sex, micropoetry written by Partha Chatterjee at Spillwords.com

Sex

Partha Chatterjee·August 28, 2018

Sex written by: Partha Chatterjee Twelve o’clock. minute_hand Hugs hour_hand. How cyclic and momentary the Supreme moment...

Poetry English

·1 min read

Thursday, 7:33 p.m.

Robert Laird·December 7, 2016

Thursday, 7:33 p.m. written by: Robert Laird @RobertCLaird after all this time, I’m still only at “What...

English

·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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