Articles tagged ‘Fiction’.
Episode 4, Josephine Emery I’m writing this in Sydney, at my old apartment to which I’ve returned to finalise moving out and returning to Maldon...
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By Pablo Antonio Cuadra (Nicaragua, 1912-2002) Translated by Andrew McKenna Since ancient times the rain has wept. Nevertheless, a tear is but young, ...
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By Anatole France* As I understand criticism it is, like philosophy and history, a kind of novel for the use of discreet and curious minds. And every ...
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By Heberto Padilla Translated by Andrew McKenna No lo olvides, poeta. En cualquier sitio y época en que hagas o en que sufras la Historia, siempre e...
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Episode Three by Josephine Emery Stories. So many stories swarming in my head. How I envy Plato, Homer, Sophocles and all. They got in first. Well, th...
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By Ernesto Cardenal translated by Andrew McKenna They killed you and didn’t tell us where they buried your body, But ever since that day the who...
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Set in the historic house and gardens at Buda, the inaugural Castlemaine Children’s Literature Festival will take place in the second week of th...
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By Mary Pomfret Most writers know about this one. You go to the letterbox and you find a bank statement, the electricity bill and a brown envelope add...
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By Andrew McKenna (First published in Terra Incognita, a bilingual journal of literature, art and commentary) ‘But they didn’t kill him,’ I said...
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by Taliesin (6th Century ?) English version by Robert Williams (Original Language Welsh) Guess who it is. Created before the Flood. A creature strong,...
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Part two by Josephine Emery Today I found I had written myself into a dead end. It was not a day of high inspiration. It was a ‘just do it’, kind ...
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By by Wang Wei (699? – 761) Autumn is crisp and the firmament far, especially far from where people live. I look at cranes on the sand and am im...
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By Andrew McKenna The shy mysterious poet Arthur Stace, Whose work was just one single mighty word. Arthur Stace started early, usually before ...
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By Ernesto Cardenal Translated by Andrew McKenna Now here comes the General … the General here comes the General riding his white horse, surr...
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by Ikkyu (Ikkyu Sojun) The tree is stripped, All colour, fragrance gone, Yet already on the bough, Uncaring spring! Amazon.com Widgets...
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By Wilfred Owen Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we t...
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By Josephine Emery I set up my writing station in the sunroom. Northerly aspect so it is light-filled all day. I filled the woodbox and tended the woo...
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By Roque Dalton (1935-1975) Translated by Andrew McKrnna Like you I love love, life, the sweet charm of things the sublime landscape of January days. ...
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By Rosa Raco I love old people. They regale you with stories of people and times long gone, offer you tea out of china cups and always have the time t...
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By Ernesto Cardenal Translated by Andrew McKenna I’ve taken part in clandestine ballots, shouted: Long live freedom! In the street de...
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Is independent media important to you? At Castlemaine Independent we offer an independent, free news service. It’s free to subscribe and we want...
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There was once a pretty young girl with no husband, no father, no mother, no brothers, no kinsfolk: they were all dead and gone. She lived alone in a ...
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Irish, 9th century I wish, O son of the Living God, ancient eternal King for a secret hut in the wilderness that it may be my dwelling. A very blue s...
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OF THE DIFFERENT WAYS OF LYING DOWN, AND VARIOUS KINDS OF CONGRESS On the occasion of a ‘high congress’ the Mrigi (Deer) woman should lie ...
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From advertising to TV shows, haiku is everywhere. It had collaborative beginnings – half a millennium before New Age haiku icon Basho was born. BY ...
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Donald Edwin Westlake (July 12, 1933 – December 31, 2008) was an American writer, with over a hundred novels and non-fiction books to his credit. He...
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Seamus Heaney wrote this in an open letter from a Field Day Pamphlet rebuking the editors of the Penguin Book of Contemporary British Poetry for inclu...
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A Navajo tale from the long collection of tales about Coyote. Coyote was walking one day when he met Old Woman. She greeted him and asked where he was...
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By Ernesto Cardenal Translated by Andrew McKenna And when I lose you, you and I will have lost: me, because you were the one I loved the most and ...
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By Kristen Krcmar* It’s around 4pm. They trod in like buffalo to a water hole, thirsty for a drink. These B.O-ridden arseholes don’t even have the...
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© Joan Katherine Webster OAM 0 ought to be nought. How did it become numerically taboo? Linguistically incorrect? Is there a subcommitt...
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College Street in Kolkata is the throbbing home of a maze of old book shops and stalls and this traditional place of learning and trading hosts the la...
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By Rita McInnes A dream woke me last night. I was walking alone in the bush (in my dream that is) when I came to a rise that was treeless. At the top ...
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© Joan Katherine Webster OAM It’s easy to see that the biblical account of creation was made up by men. For six days the male God laboured to cr...
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By Gloria Meltzer Sadly, our society has tended to be an individualistic rather than a sharing society. And our ageing population is paying the price ...
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Irish monk, ninth century I and Pangur Ban, my cat, ‘Tis a like task we are at; Hunting mice is his delight, Hunting words I sit all night. Bett...
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