The Baker

By Zenstateofmind Jewel despised the free lunch. She’d rather starve than beg for cakes. It took her aging nights and sweating feet, to own a bakery.  She was told plenty of times “you’re too ambitious for a woman.”  And her answer always remains “I can’t live in the shells and shadows some  women I know, live …

Heaven’s Window

By George Keyes A MORNING’S HAND Afaaf opened her eyes. It was morning, or was it really the middle of the evening? As she wondered, she turned on the wooden bed, not yet fully awake, a hundred of birds playing in the backward, and those earthly sounds from the ravine reached her as if they …

Poems by Alex Andy Phuong

Food Forward Food and Drinks give Life Donating Food is a way To Save Someone’s Life Mean Mean is not exactly angry nor rude per se But simply An average of numbers In a massive population It is nice to be important And being nice is nice, too   Original Song Original songs Are original …

Poems by John Goodie

Grandma’s Biscuits Flour dust on her wrinkled hands, and apron Silver gray hair pulled into a bun, on top her head Back door open, screen door with a torn screen, lets in flies Spring flowers blooming in the yard, the yellow daisies Honey on the table, butter in the dish, same table Smells of the …

I am not Going to Prepare Kevun this Time

By Indunil Madhusankha   (Previously published in the international anthology of poetry, “Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze” on 12th March 2016)   Loku Naenda sitting still on a bench watched the framed photograph of her son, my cousin, that made an exhibition of him in his army uniform and fortitude My puerile questionnaire had its …

“Nanna’s Sunday Lunch”

By Karen Trappett   Every Sunday of my youth was spent in Nanna’s old Queenslander at Sandgate for the ubiquitous Sunday lunch. I didn’t even know there was a beach near her house until much later, which was a shame, I could have used the escape; but as a single digit kid, I had no …

“The Pass”

By Karen Trappett   Byron kept his kitchen fastidiously clean; his pride and joy, and his livelihood. The stainless-steel countertops gleamed from constant rubbing and buffering between sittings and the copper-bottomed pots shimmered under the bright halogen downlights - placed with regimented precision above the work surface. Taking off his chef’s hat and placing it …

Erasing The History Of My Oven

By John Dorroh I climbed into the oven to get a better look, to erase history with a brillo pad and some elbow grease.   The first mountain was pitch black and starless, a horrible crust from cheese that leaked from a Mexican casserole last July on the hottest day of the year. It was …

Just Two People

By Hemi Gordy It all began with a soda can. I stared at it, perplexed by the unfamiliar contraption. Turning to the stranger sitting next to me at the lunch table, I asked, “Can you open this for me, please?”   I still remember the charmingly vacant expression in his blue eyes when he tore his …

Grilled Cheese

By  Maria Cannon “Oh my god, what is that smell? Did someone die?”   “It’s just the Parmesan burning a little, Bill. There’s no need to be cruel,” snapped Louise.   The smell of melting butter filled the tiny kitchen. Winston, the dachshund, snored loudly by the door.   “Grilled cheese again? I want Gruyere …