Fantastic Fall Recipe (and so easy)

By Melissa Knox-Raab

‘Tis the season for gourds and pumpkins and squash. Butternut hull squash are everywhere. These things: 

The good news is they’re delicious. The bad news is you have to cut off the stem and the end, peel them, slice them into halves or quarters, remove the seeds in the bulgy part, and then slice them into smallish pieces. From then on, things get easier: just toss in a bowl with pressed garlic (lots!), cumin, turmeric, olive oil, and a little salt and pepper. Spread out in a large pan so that each piece has its own little space in which to bask in the heat. Set aside. 

Next, take three (or more) chicken thighs you’ve salted and peppered and left in the fridge overnight. The leaving them in the fridge part is not absolutely essential but results in crispier skin when the chicken is baked. Figure out which veggie might go bad if you don’t use it soon. I had some perfect cauliflower that would have been marginally less perfect the next day. Rinsed it, cut it, tossed it in olive oil and lemon juice; added a few sliced red onions.  But I can see the recipe with bell peppers instead. Or zucchini.

In a largish pan, place the cauliflower mix with the chicken on top. Put the pan of chicken on the top shelf of your oven, which you’ve meanwhile pre-heated to about 200º Celsius (about 390ºF). Place the pan of sliced butternut squash on the lower shelf. Both dishes need about an hour; you can baste the chicken in its own juice and flip the thighs over towards the end. Stir the squash, too. The squash may be done a bit sooner; you can switch the chicken to the lower shelf if it looks very done.

The dishes will look like this before you put them in: 

I was too hungry to take a picture when they came out. Served all over Jasmine rice made, naturally, in the rice cooker. And my son said it was “so delicious, Mom!

When I saw her

By Bharat Sharma

When I saw her,

I felt like

She is,

like a blooming rose,

Like a poet’s dream,

Like a shining ray of light,

like a full moon night

like a soft word,

in the temple,

like a burning candle,

When I saw her

I felt like

She is,

Like the beauty of the morning,

like a winter sun,

Like a note from my guitar,

Like life in all colours,

like a twining vine,

Like the play of the waves,

Like a fragrant cool wind,

When I saw her.

Happy prevails sad

By Kavin Pandya

The steps of life, some, where the sun shines

some, has shadows in front 

some truths hard to swallow 

some lies difficult to forget 

with each step there’s a new path;

a field uncharted horizons unexplored soil unkissed and air unbreathed 

and that’s where lies adventure on these fields open 

Where the heart throbs

and the mind works along,

to keep making the steps –

some happy, some sad

and trying the best,

when the dusk sets in 

and the sky brushes red,

it’s the happy one that prevails…

i killed myself

By Mio Kyiek

i killed myself out there
in one of april’s night
eyes up towards the heavens
asked myself, is this alright?

was this a worthy way to go
to let go of the old me?
of everything that people saw
to finally be ´he´?

as I sat there on the rooftop
i had so much to say to me
yet no word left my lips
so I sat humming, waiting, to finally just be

and in the morning
as sun kissed the walls
i smiled to myself upon realising
two boys now lived in these halls

finding out who you are
is a long road ahead
pack some snacks for the way
you’ll never be alone, they said

but what they didn’t know
what they didn’t get
finding yourself is often lonesome
will make you cry, mad and upset

but the truth is even though
this is your own way
there are many others
on the same track, even today

so be brave
be kind, reach out
to find friends
on lonely routes

i killed myself out there
in one of april’s nights
but with the help of others
we’re gonna reach new heights


By Victoria L. Koch

If time was but a maiden fair

            Of noble form and golden hair

            Would men, alike as women woo

            for her attention? Say, would you?

5          With scented flowers, chocolates sweet

            Would bow and kneel you at her feet

            For her to grace and grant to you

            A piece of her, if she chose to?

            For time, the greatest gift of all,

10        Is precious more than golden fall.

            More valuable, more swift and fleet

            Than many a man’s mighty deed.

            If time was but a maiden fair

            We’d only ever take from her

15        Would never give, not ever rest

            Until her presents we posessed.

            But time is fleet and time is swift

            And shall be treated as a gift,

            A fragile slipper made of glass,

20        Tread carefully as it doth pass!

Loki: Eternal Prince

By Victoria L. Koch

Rancour feeds the icy prince,

            Lingering upon the throne of gold

            The godly mischief dwells

            In solitude, his heart turned stone.

5          Betrayed. Deceived. Well-grounded rage

            Within the giant’s chest resides

            And – wroth upon his fellow kings –

            A coolly lordship he provides.

            In Asgard lies his wrongly home,

10        Defeated by the half-god’s will.

            Yet Jotunheim, his homeland true,

            Is bound under a ruthless chill.

            Eternal Prince of Asgard: cede

            And rest before thy lifetime fades!

15        A holy king thou’ll never be.

            Quite nothing but an heir of shades.

            ’t is in your hands to turn your fate

            Before the gods with anger rise,

            To take away your precious life

20        You rather live it in disguise.

            Yet is your destiny foregone.

            The younger one in mis’ry fails,

            Abandoned and alone becomes

            A phantom of the ancient tales.

Don’t try

By Chantal Kamphausen

It’s after midnight

and I’ve been sitting here for hours

watching the drops of water

running down another half-drunk bottle of beer

my cigarettes are long gone

and so are the poor bastards

who stumbled in by accident

in hopes of a good time

but no one comes in here for fun

the life-worn, impassive faces of the regulars

tell as much

when the music fades

you can hear the old tales

of poverty, failure and loneliness

mixed with the sweet rhythm

of bottles and glasses hitting the counter

I’ve lost count of the many nights

I spent on this very stool

trying to escape my fate

only to catch a glimpse

of the barkeeper

shaking his head

in an attempt to say:

‘Don’t try, it’s not worth it!‘

Your book

By Julia Giesen

I’ve been in so many hands.

Hands that I didn’t allow to touch me.

Hands that I didn’t want to get touched by.

They’ve opened me,

Exposed me

            – and put me back into the cage I can’t escape without your help