Pretraži

Magazin za književnost i umjetnost // Journal for literature and arts

Oznaka

literature

Naomi Schademan, 2 poems

Home

 

I watched the video of the ocean

that you sent

and read Rumi’s “The Seed Market”

per your request. Continue reading “Naomi Schademan, 2 poems”

Oglasi

The Smell of Mothballs

          “He is a little bit late, isn’t he?” asked Emina, opening the door.  With her hair wrapped up in a wet towel she headed back through the narrow hallway. Slightly confused, I stood there for a few seconds trying to figure out who she was talking about but it was scorching outside and all I wanted was to feel the cold tiles under my bare feet. Continue reading “The Smell of Mothballs”

Matthew Pither, Poetry

Generation MM

 

O dearest child, millennial thing,

how slow the world must seem to spin, Continue reading “Matthew Pither, Poetry”

Continue reading

A Red Crayon

They said it would rain for seven days in Sarajevo, but it still hadn’t; and it was day three since they’d announced it. I couldn’t tear myself away from the fresh air on the balcony and the noise from the next-door apartment, where a turbulent couple lived. I’d got used to the noise because if it weren’t for it, I would hear the noise in my apartment. Continue reading “A Red Crayon”

Foundation

I never played with a Sindy. She was my older cousin’s best friend though. I knew a Barbie once. But we never got along well. I’d see her occasionally. She never saw me though. I neither liked her nor disliked her. With time, she made me feel uneasy. I couldn’t comprehend her hair, her face, her body, the way she’d feel under my fingers, her existence. Continue reading “Foundation”

WEIRDICTION

“I wonder,” you said. “That doesn’t surprise me,” I answered. “How do you do this?” You were in the phase where you constantly had to lend an ear to your uncontrollable urge for searching. And now you were missing. Continue reading “WEIRDICTION”

How Sarajevo shaped me: forgiveness, poetry and the holy month

Ramadan has just begun this year—a time of restraint and self-reflection, a time where I intentionally build moments to return to myself amid the everyday chaos of living. Four years ago I was living in Sarajevo; my last month in the city coincided with the holy month. As a Muslim woman who grew up in America, I had never experienced this month with people who knew or celebrated Ramadan. Continue reading “How Sarajevo shaped me: forgiveness, poetry and the holy month”

Unnamed German

She was sent off into the world with one piece of advice from her esteemed sire. He told her: “Don’t let them win you on penalties. If it comes down to it, bow out and walk away.” Her father considered himself to be the Confucius of his age and with such an excess of nose and ear hair, she often thought of him as a relic from some Lancashire-based monastic order. Continue reading “Unnamed German”

Blog pokreće Wordpress.com.

Gore ↑