Reheating Leftovers And there you wereletting the world know you’d betemporarily unavailableagainthinking, All I can do now iswait for the clocks to tickhalf past six because thenthe door is opened andstays open untilthe blood has been takenout of the bodiesgiven a brief stirput back in or your hate of the present brings you to the…
Author: Porridge Magazine
Right There — Lily Blacksell
‘Your place or mine?’ he typed, adding then deleting a winky face and pressing send.
‘Neither,’ she replied very quickly, adding ‘obviously.’
Community and Creativity in New York in Patti Smith’s Just Kids – Jasmine Choice
The prolific New York art scene gained momentum in the 1950s through the subversive Beat movement and the experimental first-generation New York School of poets. Both celebrated community and were integral in inaugurating a defiance of the mainstream and the innovation of art as collaborative. These artistic coteries shared geographical proximity; personal relationships; and similar…
ONE POEM – Ross Thompson
Beneath the light of a bashful demilune,
the water appears quite black, like blood on snow.
ONE POEM – Holly Conant
Last night they were alive again, flying through the air at break-bone speed, but they didn’t break.
COMFORT FOODS // Tiffin — Serena Alagappan
Tiffin clangs like bells,
collapses as it climbs,
tiffin holds okra, paneer,
sambar, and lemon rice.
ONE POEM — Jonah Corren
The goats have come down
from the hills today.
Little Big Stories Everywhere – Jen Schneider
With each dawn, dialogue, and downturn – downpours, too ergonomics and economies dictate energy. Economic impacts expand far beyond employment and stories drop – downstairs in the kitchen, too. Hope blooms eternal, the saying goes. Spring, too. Perennials – candy cane sorrels and blue grape hyacinths. Annuals – geraniums, impatiens. Patiently impatient. Waiting for the…
A Perfect Cadence – Sinéad Price
There is an art to falling. Sacrificing soul, limb and touch to the whim of this tempest. To cross that distance, to breach that space is not the effect of passion, but of passivity. It is the ultimate paradox. To shut off all senses but one, to enfeeble the power of the ever-wandering mind, until…
ONE POEM – Jenny Wong
The fish
fillets are thawing
for their pan-fried debut.
Growing Young – Eve Davies
If there’s one thing one can observe in a residential care home, it is the necessity of humour throughout life. It is true that the human body ages in a cycle. Through life we travel the circumference of a circle. We begin a reliant baby, we start to learn, we grow up, become an adult,…
ONE POEM – Sally Michaelson
giddy with the scent
we pipette the peppermint
into the mixture
Porridge 