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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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Fainting Lilium
A gentle lily,
Wilting slowly.
Why did it sprout?
Why does it stretch towards the sky,
Hoping for a sun that never comes?
Why does it hope,

Ruby Gillman-Koski
Mar 61 min read


Floral Wars
For weeks I unwind
Morning
Glories
from the stems of Rudbeckia
and those blueish bow-tie flowers
I never remember the name of.
I’m terrible at remembering names.
I only remember Rudbeckia
from years of my mom correcting me
when I called them Yellow Daisies.

Lisa Hartsgrove
Mar 61 min read


The Stranger
The first time he touched your breasts, in the late November cold on a bench with the rusty leaves falling at your feet, the flames of your blood melted the first frost. His teeth bit your skin, calling your fibers to ignite. And so, they did as if that was their purpose for being. White stars fell from the sky, sizzling on your naked skin. Sweat and melted snow flowed from your body for your baptism. You smelled the sweet scent of myrrh. You heard the sacred call of the inca

Patricia Nagy Gyuris
Mar 63 min read


Home Vigil
The hilltop house of dreams
unrealized during his
illness-shortened lifetime
vacantly withstood the winds blowing
above the overstretched valley
the sun’s bleaching stare,

Thomas Redoubt
Mar 61 min read


The Dancing Girl
They tell me to write about the queer experience.
A bisexual girl in Egypt—
surely, I must have a lot to say.
The truth is: no. Not really.
I never thought much about my sexuality.
I never thought much about anyone’s.

Mariam Girgis
Mar 62 min read


Painful Peace
A sleeping poet awakens,
In the midst of calmness,
With new songs of tears,
For it is this peace she fears.

misspoet.001
Mar 61 min read


Trapped in the Abyss
There is a state of shock with each message,
moment, and movement.
It leaves you in a fetal position not wanting
to eat, sleep, or fight anymore.

Thomas Beckwith
Mar 61 min read


Emotions I Have Not Outgrown as a Black Man
One day I woke up as a scrawny teenage boy with acne going through puberty,
and the next day I was suddenly the man of the house.
I was forced to be an adult, way before I ever needed those responsibilities.

Thomas Beckwith
Mar 62 min read


The Truth About Watching My Uncle Leave in Slow Motion
I have learned time by watching my dear uncle grow old.
The pain of my bloodline dissipating in such fashion is
foreign to me; he is now in his mid-eighties—
Neither of my parents made it past fifty-five.
A man who once was agile, witty, well spoken,
and had a memory of steel is not a picture I can erase
on Etch A Sketch.

Thomas Beckwith
Mar 62 min read


Mirroring the Time
Clock in to lock in rings loudly,
availability provides opportunity and possibility.
Availability is your best ability,
only when you have mental capacity.
Loss in life shines the light on your vulnerability.

Thomas Beckwith
Mar 61 min read


Crumpled Roses
I bought some paper flowers once
from a market stall;
near London's Covent Garden
in The West End
where all the best voices are heard.
They were over-priced

Emma Kennedy
Mar 61 min read


Liberation?
It feels so so so good
to be liberated.
Who needs romance when
I can have a nice fuck
without the extra effort,
without the dinners and flowers,
without the weight of obligation.

Deepa Rajan
Mar 61 min read


Self-Care
I want to take care of myself.
I want to bathe and brush my teeth.
I want to take care of myself.
I want to get 8 hours of sleep.

Deepa Rajan
Mar 61 min read


Grasping for Magic
As a child,
I cried when I couldn’t do magic,
like trying to teleport a soda can
from across the room.
I wanted it to be tangible,
to feel the sweating aluminum
meet me in the middle.

Madison McClintock
Mar 61 min read


Foreign Bodies
I was born an alien,
dropped down
into my mother’s arms
by way of plastic sheet.
Silent amongst the fluids,
warm and familiar.

Madison McClintock
Mar 61 min read


A Controlled Descent
It begins with inventory.
Names, tones, hallways.
A register of glances sharp enough to teach you
where to stand so you won’t be noticed.
Bullying is not a single event—
it is curriculum.
It teaches posture.
It teaches silence.

Abby Deisinger
Mar 64 min read


Paint My Own Canvas
I see shadows
out of the corner of my eye.
They follow me
wherever I go, with no escape.

A.S. Winters
Feb 201 min read


Paint the Town Pink
She adjusts her short skirt, pink crop top glimmering
in the moonlight. Her red lipstick is her warpaint.
She’s a confident woman, and she damn well
wants the world
to celebrate it.

A.S. Winters
Feb 202 min read


Following Aphrodite's Call
It was early November when the touch
of his hand set my heart on fire.
The glow warmed me through the chill air of the
approaching winter.
After a cold summer spent sinking, the comfort
of a warm winter was welcome.

A.S. Winters
Feb 202 min read


Midnight Stars
The curtain has been there
for almost as long as I can remember.
It's as dark as a shadow
and as heavy as the midnight stars.

A.S. Winters
Feb 202 min read
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