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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)

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Mortification
I made an apricot pie for a gathering. It was a flop. I slipped into shame, humiliation, embarrassment, because it wasn’t perfect, and I hadn’t brought pleasure to the people who had come together to celebrate community. I was horrified when I cut into the pie. It was a soggy mess. Not that anyone said anything. They just didn’t eat it.

Fay Loomis
5 days ago3 min read


Castles in the Air
Tommy's voice was low-pitched and urgent as he murmured beseechingly to his wife. She didn't respond. He gazed at her, strewn across their bed, her auburn tresses spilling over the pillow. She looked beautiful to him, despite the way she'd let herself go since the baby died. Tommy remembered that it had been only weeks, but the heartbreak seemed to stretch back as far as he could recall, years almost, owing to Rachel's mental history.

Bill Tope
Oct 246 min read


The Least Suckiest Gifts of All
I didn’t have a father. To clarify, I wasn’t hatched, nor did I come into being by my mom releasing an egg into the water, some dude swimming along minding his own business, dumping out a gallon of his jizz like fertilizer, and poof—there I was. No, I came into the world in the usual way: some random sweaty guy tussling with Mom in a cramped back seat, whispering an assurance of undying love.

Jill Williams
Oct 2410 min read


Troubled Conscience
I’m digging a hole with a coffee spoon,
scrambling eggs with a cardboard trowel,
combing my hair with the garden rake.
I used words that bruised, caused tears
that shattered like beads of mercury.

Elizabeth Weir
Oct 241 min read


Lesson of a Sunset
August night, on triple heels,
I raced the sky, I cracked my heels.
“Wait, red sun! Don’t descend,
don’t let the dusk devour your end!”

Vangel Gable
Oct 241 min read


A Mother's Lesson of "No"
Thank you, my angel dear,
for brushing teeth when I am near,
for cuddling close before the night,
Mommy loves her girl so bright.

Vangel Gable
Oct 241 min read


Palm Reading
my hands tell me I am getting old
my heart and mind beg to differ
my heart slightly skippy but basically steady
my mind strays a bit but mostly stays sound

Mary Janicke
Oct 241 min read


Praying Petals
How many Rose petals have fallen for you
Did you seek its source of thorn and jilt
How many of your Daisies dropped from the dew

Tracy Duffy
Oct 241 min read


Where Is The Chaos?
My awareness is owl-like. I lay awake hearing every sound that never becomes a thing, as I check every door, each window and the sleeping children. Last night’s dinner is unsettled. My eating, so hasty, turns the anxiety into pangs like a house of dispute. I can’t sleep like the gerbils in my daughter’s room, and I’m frustrated that I’m awake for no reason. Where is the chaos? Why didn’t someone disturb me? How could my soul possibly miss the intrusions of the past? The 2 am

Tracy Duffy
Oct 242 min read


Castaway
I lay on the grass in Barnsdale Park, the southern California sun warming my back and pinning me to the earth, like an elephant seal collapsing on the warm sand in molting season. The sound of cars in the background lulls me into half-sleep, like a comforting roll of waves.

Laurie Drabble
Oct 245 min read


I'll Never Tell: Secrets between Cousins
I was upstairs in my room at my parents' house on a January night in 2012 when the phone rang. Pork roast was in the oven. My father was just about to take it out to carve. My mother answered the call. I heard her wailing, and I ran down the stairs. She was collapsed on the vinyl kitchen floor, yelling, "Oh my god! Oh my god!"

Bianca Bourgault
Oct 2410 min read


Push Through
Don't be the one pushing someone else's narratives; own your own. Foster a declarative mindset, not the one "they" speak on... but the one that's shown.

Reebie Ann Flowers
Oct 241 min read


Emotional Nakedness
Vulnerability isn't all bad. Wild, how society has entrapped the idea of emotional wickedness. Masking through pretentious attempts to oversell like-mindedness. Worry
not, for harsh truths prevail.

Reebie Ann Flowers
Oct 241 min read


Chase Not.
This life experience should not be lived like it’s a race.
Competing with the competition?
Directly deflecting from the idea, I'm only in competition with myself.
So, it's no rush. Imagine life at your own pace.

Reebie Ann Flowers
Oct 241 min read


Crowded Measures
Sit still enough, you can vibrate off the pulling pressures.
Harlem shake on, looking for the hidden treasures.
In Disguise, doing whatever that's clever, to not be recognized...

Reebie Ann Flowers
Oct 241 min read


Overcoming Narcissism
When I was younger, I had read that narcissism was named for the figure Narcissus from Greek mythology. Narcissus was so taken with his own reflection in a pool of water that he eventually paid for this self-absorption by being unable to experience love with another being. Though it is healthy to possess self-love, it becomes troublesome when one is incapable of mutually loving another human being.

Silvia Fiorita Smith
Oct 2410 min read


A Garland of Bamboo Flutes
A large garland of bamboo flutes of various sizes strung together loosely, lying undisturbed amidst big red rocks on the beach, is a pleasant but unusual find. I used to linger beside these same rocks, listening to the sea, feeling the breeze while taking in the melodious, mellifluous, mostly faltering flute recital. It was obvious the flutist was no Hariprasad Chaurasia, T.R. Mahalingam, or N. Ramani.

Subramani Mani
Oct 2411 min read


Trans Doors
Imagine
child of seven
barely pubescent eleven
still forming sixteen
standing

Ellen Riggle
Sep 261 min read


HyperVigilance
Enter a room
pretend bold
feel wary
wearing the unconcealable

Ellen Riggle
Sep 261 min read
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