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La Caída De Numenor

Alexander Uslar·July 26, 2018

La Caída De Numenor written by: Uslariono @Uslariono Bajo el mar oscuro, yace la hermosa Tantas veces...

Poetry Spanish

·2 mins read

Line-O-Lore

Lyle Hutchinson·September 28, 2017

Line-O-Lore written by: Lyle Hutchinson @hutch3713 Two worlds Moonlight between One happy One misery See these courts...

Poetry English

·1 min read

Lore

Amanda Needham·April 7, 2017

Lore written by: Amanda Needham We built our house in the faery ring then are aghast when...

English Poetry

·1 min read

The Enchanted Pagoda

Cindy Medina·March 28, 2017

The Enchanted Pagoda written by: Cindy Medina @Cindy_M65 Oh so many moons ago, in that wondrous land...

English Poetry

·7 mins 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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