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Drawing Near

Todd Humes·May 6, 2020

Drawing Near written by: Todd Humes driving on this grim highway with no company to share the...

English Poetry

·1 min read

Class A

Luiz Syphre·March 5, 2020

Class A written by: Luiz Syphre @luizsyphre Dad, nephew, uncle and friend I mount trucker wheels drive...

Poetry English

·1 min read

Up Next, A Country Song

John Grey·February 10, 2020

Up Next, A Country Song written by: John Grey How can I explain it. Imagine a trembling...

English Poetry

·1 min read

Why I Don’t Run Away Anymore

Jim Bates·September 30, 2019

Why I Don’t Run Away Anymore written by: Jim Bates I ran away from home twice. The...

Literature English

·56 mins read

The Beacon

Dawn DeBraal·August 17, 2019

The Beacon written by: Dawn DeBraal Dooley Bradford sat in his beat-up Ford 150 pick up at...

Ice Cream Trucks

Robyn MacKinnon·April 7, 2019

Ice Cream Trucks written by: Robyn MacKinnon @art_rat be liberated ice cream trucks in the summer remember...

Robyn Finds Poetry Robyn MacKinnon Poetry English

·1 min read

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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

Interview Q&A II With Suman Pokhrel

Taps on The Ceiling

Interviews

Interview Q&A II With Suman Pokhrel

Spotlight On Writers – Celia In Underland

Spotlight On Writers – Johnch

Interview Q&A II With Suman Pokhrel

This is What the Land Told Me

The Imagination of Dreams

The Big Chill

Frank

Climate Change

Father Christmas Comes Knocking

Zainab

truck

Drawing Near

Class A

Up Next, A Country Song

Why I Don’t Run Away Anymore

The Beacon

Ice Cream Trucks

Taps on The Ceiling

When The Jehovahs Knock

This Man’s War

The Meditation in a Sailing Lesson

Interview Q&A II With Suman Pokhrel

Requiem for a Blue Dress

The Chronic Complainer

The Haunting Embrace of My Black Hole

Father Out

Banjara

I Need You