Search The Bellwether Review, 2025

Nonfiction The Ginger Remains Crescent Holiday The first words I spoke to my then-future husband were, “Don’t fall in love with me.” His response was, “I think it’s already too late.” Memento Mori Katherine Bryant Joy can be contagious. When you see a broad and toothy smile, eyes squinted and creased at the corners, you can’t help but feel joy yourself... No Longer Shackled Kristina Landrum Dear Methamphetamine, When I was fourteen, you introduced me to your liquid charm encased in the syringe of euphoria, and I surrendered to your manipulations... War Through Chan's Eyes Chan Truong Jones “Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness,” Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. once said. These words resonate deeply with me because although I was born after the wars were over in Vietnam, their impact remained constant in my life... Read More Read More Read More Read More

Poetry Why I Write Read More Megan McGrory I always say that I’ve been writing before I could write. / As a young girl, I dictated stories to my mother... Twelve Bridges Read More Terra Patrie One is for not looking down because you’re petrified you’re going to fall through to the river below. / Two is for crossing back over... An Ode to My Cat Read More Megan McGrory When I collapse on the couch ready to rest, my cat comes with his tail held high./ A cloud of black fur with a squeaky meow and loud purr. / He settles by my side, unaware of the joy and comfort he brings... Far Away in a Place Nearby Read More Sarah Myton Where the owl hoots in the morning / And the birds sing at night... Late Fruit Read More Sarah Myton In the dark of winter / we hide away / In the comfort of our homes... golden (h)our Read More Eleanor Song in my mind we laugh in a glowing field. / the sun laughs with us, peeking past a calm horizon... 1,000,000+ Pieces (Some Lost) Read More Terra Patrie Wouldn’t it be so nice / to not have to solve the puzzle / of every broken thing you encounter? grandfather clock Read More Eleanor Song on the plane ride home i wondered what it must be like to mourn your life as you live it; you sat there with me, almost... Used Book Review Read More Dean Wilson This book of poetry is not new / the pages are flagged / and yellowed... Why I Risked the Strikeout Read More Terra Patrie 1) If you’re afraid of the ball, you’ll never win... Dirt Poor Read More Crescent Holiday I grew up / as free and wild as the blackberries... Over the Under Waves Read More Moriendi Lenore Is this what quicksand feels like? / Ocean waves dampen the sand / around my feet with each return... Moon Gardening on a Funeral Pyre Read More Moonrose Doherty This offering / subsumed / fires that burn on water... Peace Machete Read More Moriendi Lenore A naturally curious mind is stuck with me / Forever wishing and hoping to wander so / It is never content to sit and just be... Two Years Older Read More Sarah Myton Two years older / Makes you wiser and bolder / and smarter than I’ll ever be... Nights Read More Nikolai Neerenberg A graphite-stained sky (minus the moon) / Watches my copper-stained fingers... Recipe for Conduits Read More Moonrose Doherty Stop waiting / rattlesnake resting / for brilliance to strike / you must open your mouth... dyspraxic Read More J. Artemis Mackay limbs find unsteady / rest, weak upon the earth / stirring from the bird-song dawn... Fucking rip, I kinda liked you Read More Moriendi Lenore Brown doe eyes stare at a ‘Wolf’ in disbelief, she wonders what she did wrong— / Panicked fight, blade makes a mess... Sludge House Read More J. Artemis Mackay this place looks like shit / you know it’s / going to be great... Devil-Damned Read More Shane Allison When my mother speaks of how my father has hurt her over the years, / She acts as if each time is the first. As if him being a bastard / Is something she never saw in him before... An Ode to the Unsung Heroes of My Home Read More Shamik Banerjee Music is anodyne, but what compares / to our rice steamer’s ‘hissing’? Oh! that sound / flies to each corner, even down the stairs, / and makes our home a curry-cooker’s ground... Home Economics Read More Shane Allison I’d like to think that Mrs. President, / My ninth-grade home Economics teacher, / Is in heaven... Amir Nisha Read More Shamik Banerjee Congested footpaths slowed us down that day. / The sun, imperious, laughed during noon / And mocked our plodding as we made our way / To your most-stopped-by marketplace that June... A Foreign Being Read More Aster Aliaj It’s a division of the heart, sir / If I could, I would make myself whole / I would / Your laws bar my way... Kids Read More Shane Allison In my dream we are two best friends / lying on our bellies reading comic books / strewn across your bedroom floor. Intrusion Read More Dean Wilson Calm, serene, peaceful... Rose City Read More J. Artemis Mackay Impurity / midwinter baptism / rain motor oil swells concrete... Read More

< Back Intrusion Dean Wilson Calm, serene, peaceful in your private world and way, you disturb my peace. Author Bio Dean Wilson is a multidisciplinary artist based in Canby, Oregon, whose creative work spans both photography and the written word. His photograph "Quiet Time" was featured in Fifty Years, Fifty Artists: A Celebration of the West , and his work has been exhibited at Northview Gallery and Blue Sky: Oregon Center for the Photographic Arts. His images have also appeared in Uncommon , a publication by the Portland Photographers Forum, as well as The Bellwether Review . Dean’s poetry and prose have been published in the Lewis and Clark Review , Alchemy Magazine , and The Bellwether Review . Driven by a lifelong need to create, he approaches his art with a spirit of exploration—often blending visual storytelling with reflective narrative. Refusing to be confined by style or subject, Dean embraces both photography and writing as open-ended conversations with the world around him.

The Bellwether Review 2020 Art Poetry Fiction Groundswell Archive Best Essay Winner

WANT TO SEE YOUR WORK PUBLISHED IN THE BELLWETHER REVIEW ? The Bellwether Review is a literary magazine made by students at the Portland Community College Rock Creek campus. Our editorial team primarily seeks to promote the work of PCC students, but we also consider a limited number of submissions from the general public. Any individual can submit up to five poems, two short stories, two scripts, two creative nonfiction essays, and/or four pieces of visual artwork. We generally do not publish research essays or works longer than 5,000 words. We’re accepting submissions for next year’s issue until Friday, April 3, 2026. To be considered, please fill out this Google Form . All contributors will receive a copy of The Bellwether Review upon its publication in Spring 2026.

< Back Why I Write Megan McGrory I always say that I’ve been writing before I could write. As a young girl, I dictated stories to my mother so she could write them for me. When an older but still young girl, I hand-wrote in journals with my own stick figures as illustrations. Now I type my stories, even though canyons could be formed in the time it takes me to finish. Throughout it all, my most frequent listener was myself. From little girl to young woman, I have entertained myself with stories in my head. They were my escape from a world that I didn’t understand. My very own form of expression to myself. I live to tell my stories. I am fire, and it my kindling. I see a story in every fallen leaf, behind every closed door. I look up at the sky and see words written in the stars. My head is filled with stories, with a world of possibilities. Even when the page is blank, my mind is full of life. Most of all, writing is my exploration. Of emotions too big to contain, New worlds that beg an explorer, Wonders that need to be shared, A past that must be processed. I have always written, always told stories. It seems that I always will. Because I can’t imagine a universe where my soul would ever be so silent. Author Bio Megan McGrory is an avid consumer of media who’s lived in Washington, Alaska, and finally Oregon. She has been writing since before she could technically write, getting her mother to write down her stories for her. Her greatest passion is prose, particularly fantasy and science fiction, though she’s started to dabble in poetry. Aside from writing, Megan loves to read, watch movies and TV, perform on stage, and analyze media through a feminist lens. One of her greatest passions is napping with her cat, Spooky.

< Back Sludge House J. Artemis Mackay this place looks like shit you know it’s going to be great every timber & rigging buzz & clatter amplifier worship carbon copied upon my heart I will lose three of my favorite S-tier teeth by encore until then pay the ferryman $12 at the door, exact change preferred. Author Bio Artemis Mackay (they/them) is a queer, trans writer living near a bridge in Portland. They hold a Master’s Degree in Comparative Social Change from University College Dublin and several DSM-V diagnoses.

HISTORY OF THE BELLWETHER REVIEW The Bellwether Review got its start in 1996. Originally dubbed The Rock Creek Review , the journal used to be staffed by Rock Creek faculty members. The Rock Creek Review was renamed The Bellwether Review in 2011 with the inception of the Advanced Creative Writing, Editing, and Publishing course. Former editors chose the name The Bellwether Review to symbolize the artistic drive of writers and artists. A “bellwether” is the leader of a flock of sheep—a sheep who wears a bell to signal the best direction for the entire herd. Today, the term more commonly refers to any person who takes initiative and sets trends. We believe those whose work is published in The Bellwether Review are leading the way for artistic expression.

< Back Twelve Bridges Terra Patrie One is for not looking down because you’re petrified you’re going to fall through to the river below. Two is for crossing back over and peeking out the window because you just can’t help but wonder at how far up you are. Three is for kicking the back of the passenger seat as if that’ll make the car go faster because it’s not moving and OMSI is waiting. Four is for smacking your brother on the head with a plastic dinosaur fossil and trying to throw him out the window so he can swim with the mosasaurs. Five is for groaning about the family vacation you’re being forced to go on and your brother has already started asking, “Are we there yet?” No, shut up! Six is for waking up just as the bright city lights and neon signs start to break through the fog. Seven is for going to championships with your team and the bus is crazy. Eight is for adrenaline crashes and knowing that even though the season is over they’ll always be like family. Nine is for your first time driving in downtown traffic. Ten is for having your dad drive back because you swear you’re never doing that again. Eleven is for catching an early flight because a summer away from here is all you’ve ever dreamed of. Twelve is for offering to take the wheel because the time change still has you wide awake at 1 a.m. and so does the exhilaration that there’s nothing between you and home. Author Bio Terra Patrie tried to write a bio but kept getting distracted writing poems.

< Back Peace Machete Moriendi Lenore A naturally curious mind is stuck with me Forever wishing and hoping to wander so It is never content to sit and just be. Must you be so persistent? I plea Onlookers stare in my direction apropos A naturally curious mind is stuck with me Aggravation dresses my face, a marquee Be cool, calm, chill, you got this , breathe slow It is never content to sit and just be. I know just what to do to set us both free Headphones on, full blast, a temporary deathblow A naturally curious mind is stuck with me Content, I lean against the shade of a tree Music cannot be stopped, reverberating, we let go It is never content to sit and just be. You are a peace machete, lacking chivalry Do I relent, has our parlay hit a plateau? A naturally curious mind is stuck with me It is never content to sit and just be. Author Bio Moriendi Lenore is a Southern California native who moved to Oregon in 2008. They are finishing up their second year at PCC and plan to pursue a degree in Creative Writing and Film Studies. Their writing tends to focus around all things that go bump in the night; along with variations of folklore and mythology. When not at home with their cat, Schrödinger, working on projects or playing TTRPGs with friends, they are with their dog, Chopper, and can be found hiking around Oregon.