darcie friesen hossack

Something that binds us. a poem by Dr Ashok Kumar

Something that binds us Near or far, on the earth or in the space Known or unknown feelings of courage Remove negative people from valuable life Toxic they are, bring stress and strife Sweet soft soul chosen each other for one goal Something binds us to play our role Believe it or not Peace makersContinue reading “Something that binds us. a poem by Dr Ashok Kumar“

2 poems by Josie Di Sciascio-Andrews

Earwig You hatched from your mottled egg Glossy black, like a coffee bean. Dexterous and slim, you unhinged A crooked quickness from calamity Into the fissures of furniture And ill-fitting floor trim. Once, in horror, I watched you slide From the plastic holes Of a 60’s telephone receiver. Pincers mongering old wives’ tales. Insinuating dreadContinue reading “2 poems by Josie Di Sciascio-Andrews“

Open Wounds. a poem by Gordon Phinn

Open Wounds In the seemingly endless centuries Of conflict and connived resolution Where races strived mightily To eliminate whatever Other Seemed to stand in their way, The wounded heart of humanity Bled and never healed. Tribes, Sometimes tricked, sometimes swallowed, Trickled into nations, only to discover A more devious destiny daily unfolding. Both conquerors andContinue reading “Open Wounds. a poem by Gordon Phinn”

5 poems by Susmit Panda

Jottings On a Winter Morning It’s sad to be a normal girl in a room with a yellow wallpaper. Yet I am one who is lonely like shit, an uninhabited house crawling all over with sun-glazed orbwebs…I would be one spreadeagled in DH Lawrence’s sun, & raise my belly to the furthest arc of myContinue reading “5 poems by Susmit Panda”

Call for November Mss. Disasters

For our November 2022 issue, WordCity Literary Journal will turn its eyes on disasters: Natural disasters such as storms. Human-made as with Climate Change. Political. Personal. From the macro to the micro. While we leave this theme wide open to interpretation, our hearts are looking towards Iran with grief and hope as its people protestContinue reading “Call for November Mss. Disasters”

WordCity Literary Journal. September 2022.

©®| All rights to the content of this journal remain with WordCity Literary Journal and its contributing artists. Table of Contents Letter from the Editor. Non-fiction Editor Olga Stein Where We are Now Putting together an issue that is critical of the new anti-abortion laws in the USA has been wrenching for us at WordCity.Continue reading “WordCity Literary Journal. September 2022.”

Table of Contents. WordCity Literary Journal. September 2022.

Letter from the Editor. Non-fiction editor Olga Stein Fine Art. A gallery of women’s moods by Miroslava Panayotova Fiction. Edited by Sylvia Petter Nature’s Child. by Anjum Wasim Dar Someone I Used to Know. by Heather Rath Michael Edwards. by Bulletin: A Housewife In Scranton, Pennsylvania While Women Rage In Winter. by Rachel J FentonContinue reading “Table of Contents. WordCity Literary Journal. September 2022.”

Where We are Now. editorial by Olga Stein

Where We are Now Putting together an issue that is critical of the new anti-abortion laws in the USA has been wrenching for us at WordCity. It has been exactly two years since the passing of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, and look where we find ourselves as women and as members of a society that seesContinue reading “Where We are Now. editorial by Olga Stein”

A gallery of women’s moods by Miroslava Panayotova

Return to Journal Miroslava Panayotova (Bulgaria) graduated from Plovdiv University, specialty Bulgarian philology and English language. She has published poems, stories, tales, aphorisms, essays, criticisms, translations, articles and interviews in periodical and collections. She has published the following poetry books: Nuances, 1994, God of the senses, 2005, Pitcher, 2014, Whisper of leaves, 2017, Green feeling,Continue reading “A gallery of women’s moods by Miroslava Panayotova”

Nature’s Child. fiction by Anjum Wasim Dar

Nature’s Child Tied to the armchair with a broad brown leather belt, his fists clenched, muttering, gasping unintelligibly under his breath, angry at something or somebody, an unhappy frown shadowing his brow, hair cropped short, feet bare and sharply white.She recalled the child’s first image. Everyone called him Tari, he was always around the house,Continue reading “Nature’s Child. fiction by Anjum Wasim Dar”