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Address To Beelzebub

Spillwords·August 28, 2022

Address To Beelzebub a poem by Robert Burns LONG life, my Lord, an’ health be yours, Unskaithed...

Poetry English Literary Greats

·1 min read

The Wren

Clive Grewcock·May 29, 2021

The Wren written by: Clive Grewcock I halt upon my country stroll With your flashing shape I...

English Poetry Featured Post

·1 min read

A Winter Night

Spillwords·January 24, 2021

A Winter Night a poem by Robert Burns When biting Boreas, fell and doure, Sharp shivers thro’...

Literary Greats Poetry English

·1 min read

To A Mouse

Spillwords·August 26, 2018

To A Mouse a poem by Robert Burns Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim’rous beastie, O, what a panic’s...

Literary Greats Poetry English

·1 min read

Halloween

Spillwords·October 29, 2017

Halloween by Robert Burns Upon that night, when fairies light On Cassilis Downans dance, Or owre the...

English Literary Greats Poetry Halloween

·5 mins read

Ald Langs Syne at spillwords.com Happy New Years 2016

Auld Lang Syne

Spillwords·December 31, 2016

Auld Lang Syne by Robert Burns Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? Should...

English

·1 min read

Red, Red Rose

Spillwords·September 25, 2016

Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns O my Luve’s like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung...

Poetry English Literary Greats

·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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