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Interview With Santa

Rand Hill·December 18, 2020

Interview With Santa written by: Rand Hill MOST SECRET This letter is sent, in strictest confidence, to...

Literature Christmas English

·8 mins read

Pied Piper

Marina Sofia·August 25, 2020

Pied Piper written by: Marina Sofia @MarinaSofia8 She kicked off her high heels as soon as she got...

English Literature

·1 min read

Irregular Ode To Covid Spring

Shelly Norris·April 20, 2020

Irregular Ode To Covid Spring written by: Shelly Norris Local reporters advise gardening a sanctioned activity. Frugal...

Poetry English

·1 min read

Raven Ridge

Doug Donnan·January 14, 2019

Raven Ridge written by: Doug Donnan Approximately 30 miles due south of Flagstaff Arizona (As the crow...

English Literature

·4 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...

Features

Purge

Interview Q&A II With Suman Pokhrel

Interviews

Interview Q&A II With Suman Pokhrel

Spotlight On Writers – Celia In Underland

Spotlight On Writers – Johnch

Requiem for a Blue Dress

The Haunting Embrace of My Black Hole

The Chronic Complainer

The Disturbance At The Bear Family Home

Hindsight

The Ukrainian Privilege

Last Date

reporter

Interview With Santa

Pied Piper

Irregular Ode To Covid Spring

Raven Ridge

Taps on The Ceiling

When The Jehovahs Knock

Interview Q&A II With Suman Pokhrel

The Meditation in a Sailing Lesson

Lost in Church

Purge

Unexpected Betrayal

Wrzosy

Vive in Praesenti

River and Sea

Requiem for a Blue Dress