top of page
redrosethorns journal
Conscious raising, frequently utilised by feminists, involves individuals sharing their experiences to enhance awareness of social, personal, and political matters. This method has proven highly effective in fostering unity, building communities, and shedding light on broader issues affecting diverse demographics worldwide. It's a means of expressing our identities and experiences, ultimately empowering us.
Inspired by this approach, redrosethorns launched an online journal publication aimed at facilitating conversations about mental health, gender, sexuality, self-care, and empowerment.
ISSN: 2978-5316 (online)
If you would like to submit your work
to redrosethorns journal, click here.
Search
Afterwards
Afterwards, she lay on his chest, her hand on his limpness.
“Have you been with others?” she asked, her passions now calmed. She needed to hear that she had singularly charmed him, even though his seed was not the first she had taken into herself.
Chris Lihou
Jan 231 min read
Lament
John was discontent. Today was a grey, dismal winter’s day. For John, every day felt like this, no matter the season or the weather. Spring sap had not risen in him for over a decade. He knew intellectually that he was still alive, but everything now had a blandness. John’s prior delight in food had degraded. Mealtimes were now simply the taking on of fuel. Walking the dog had become a chore to be endured.
Chris Lihou
Jan 233 min read
Three
Three. How I hate that number. Two things happen, then I’m anxiously waiting, expecting the third thing to go wrong.
I know where my fear comes from. My baby sister, my mum’s third child, was born three weeks early and died three weeks later. I was three at the time. See? The number keeps popping up!
Chris Lihou
Jan 232 min read
Bless My Feet
I return from inside dark choppy clouds
to bless my feet for carrying me.
I will die someday.
This is the most definite thing
I know. And yes, I might say to myself,
Why bother to come home when my tongue
will eventually curl up and shrivel?
Sandra Beth Levy
Jan 232 min read
You Again
I don’t know if it is life echoing through depression,
Or depression echoing through life.
It feels like the second hand of a wall clock—
Always there, always moving, unnoticed
Until suddenly it’s all you can hear.
Doge Kamki
Jan 232 min read
Simultaneity
The keys jingle as the front door unlocks, and my ears are ringing. Did I leave anything out on the table? Maybe my university bag, or my crayons?
Her footsteps echo across the laminate and I hear him clear his throat. My heart quickens. I chastise myself for still having the same reaction all these years later, and wonder if the other kids at school feel like this when their dad arrives home.
J. Raisian
Jan 233 min read
White Roses in the Hidden Night
Tears of Silver space descend upon white rose petals
An Ocean of iridescent corollas; a spectral ignition
Shimmering obscene; dainty droplets of lambency
Erika Joy
Jan 231 min read
Reflection
“Maybe I could get a curtain or something to cover it,” I mused over dinner towards the beginning of the semester.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” my friend Noah said in that matter-of-fact tone he likes to use whenever he thinks I’m saying something absurd.
Heath Chen
Jan 232 min read
The Peeling of a Clementine
Her father looks on as his high-school daughter
pierces rind, pitted with pores like skin,
presses in her thumb and pulls free a willing
petal of peel, first boyfriend watching.
Piece by piece, his daughter peels, until the soft flesh
lies naked in her palm, its skin, a dropped dress.
Elizabeth Weir
Jan 231 min read
Frenzied Love
In a time of national dread, I tumble,
hour by hour, into enveloping love.
This morning, it’s the dead goldfinch
beneath our window. I stroke its feathered coat,
set it among spent geraniums. Then it’s a blue jar
alight with sun on the kitchen window sill.
Elizabeth Weir
Jan 231 min read
So Long Betty Crocker!
From the moment of birth, swaddled in your sweet pink receiving blanket, the groundwork begins. You’re held aloft, admired, yet soon you will be steeped in the strong brew of patriarchy that will fill you up, absorbed by every fiber of your being.
Suzanne Miller
Jan 232 min read
I Walked
I walked along,
the Columbia river-
only to find
missing pieces of myself.
Nicole Christine
Jan 231 min read
Awakening
Through the mud,
and through the storm-
you knew what
you had to do.
Nicole Christine
Jan 231 min read
All in the Mind
The grey pall of sadness
rose like a cloud before my eyes;
I looked to the shaded sun,
shuttering its sunny skies.
Sheila Thadani
Jan 231 min read
Fools
All men are fools –
some now, some then,
some always.
Thomas Redoubt
Jan 231 min read
An Outsider's Anthem
Take the advice of Johnny Cade.
Stay gold. Grow young to old.
Take care. Stay you. Explore the world.
Leave home. Stay true. Stay you. Take care.
Stay bold. Stay gold till the end.
It doesn’t matter if you’re an outsider.
Stay gold. Stay bold. Grow old. Take care.
Thomas Beckwith
Jan 231 min read
A Year Away From 40
Most days you’re just a passive rider in life.
Your favorite poem when you were a kid was “A Dream Deferred.”
You grew up in a place where there was no future.
You grew up in a place where dreams were deterred.
Thomas Beckwith
Jan 232 min read
Watching Him Drink
He drinks. He argues with me.
He drinks to strike fear in me.
Then he falls asleep.
He doesn’t remember.
He drinks, but he loves me.
He drinks. He doesn’t listen to me.
He argues with me. He drinks.
Thomas Beckwith
Jan 231 min read
Guilt or Grief
The feelings seem to be the same.
It leaves one lingering with pain.
Guilt ridden or grief stricken.
Thomas Beckwith
Jan 231 min read
The Voices of Loss
There are certain feelings one can suppress,
but they can resurface at any moment.
Some days I hurt.
I don’t know if the pain will ever go away.
Some days I am happy.
Some days I am sad.
Some days I feel loved.
Thomas Beckwith
Jan 231 min read
bottom of page