LATE LOVE

I loved you—

to forgive,

yet found myself in a place

where forgiveness could not reach.

My hands were not for you,

they opened only in prayer

to stay in love.

I said, when I arrived,

“You will mend my wounds,”

but instead you opened my heart

and turned it into a vast

bleeding sore.

I waited for your balm,

yet you—named my illness:

“Separation,”

and with that name

you hurt me even more…

I saw my dreams in your eyes,

yet to forget them,

I looked at your lips.

First, you conquered my heart,

in the end, I became

a prisoner of your love.

I wept for you—

in every tear, a fragment of affection,

in every sigh, a great truth.

And now—

when I leave, saying,

“I’ll tend my own wounds,”

the hardest blow

is your

“too-late love.”

….

JUDGED MYSELF

I judged myself—

No witnesses,

no lawyer,

no accuser to show the indictment.

Only a mirror…

broken, silent.

I answered

to my innocent guilt—

my answers stretched endlessly.

I did not cry—yet within me

something cracked, shattering.

Words failed on my tongue,

tears ran down my face.

Before me stood I—

yet like a stranger…

Nowhere could I be truly myself.

Only in my own being,

I became everyone.

The questioning marks in my eyes

were wiped away by tears.

In my hand—a notebook,

even the words themselves

refused to write.

I did not write—

Words themselves refused to be penned.

This is no poetic gathering—

it is a trial.

Silence runs in my blood.

Beneath my nails, gathered envy—

gentle as silence,

sharp as pain.

I forgave myself.

I judged myself…

Jakhongir Nomozov is a young poet and journalist from Uzbekistan. He is also a Member of the Union of Journalists of Azerbaijan and the World Young Turkic Writers Union.

Melody of my soul 

The heart has a song that flight,

A melody is woven in the light.

The echoes are clear and true,

Always a love forever new. 

The morning has a gentle rise,

Dreams reflected in our eyes.

It dances as a vibrant sway,

May rhythm a soul everyday. 

Have a cosmic endless art,

The timeless music is heart. 

Its colors are bright and bold,

The story has at the moment told.

Melody is tender and profound,

The truest spirit can be found.

Dr. Debabrata Maji’s journey is one woven with the artistry of words, the precision of engineering, and the resounding echoes of literary passion. Born on September 6, 1961, in the serene Deulpur Village of Howrah District, West Bengal, India, his life’s path meandered through the structured world of engineering before blossoming into an awe-inspiring legacy in the poetic realm. Despite pursuing a career in engineering, the written word never loosened its grip on his soul.

It was as if poetry was inscribed into his very being, waiting patiently for the right moment to erupt into brilliance. And erupt, it did. What followed was an unstoppable rise through the ranks of the World Poetic Fraternity, marking Dr. Maji as a luminary in contemporary literature.  His literary prowess, distinguished by a profound sensitivity and refined craftsmanship, has been recognized far and wide. The world acknowledged his contributions by bestowing upon him fourteen Honorary Doctorates, a testament to the depth and impact of his work. Recognition followed in waves, with eleven prestigious Annual Literary Awards adorning his illustrious career – one of the most remarkable being the Silver Saraswati Statue, a symbol of divine wisdom and artistic excellence.

The weight of his influence is evident in the vast array of publications that carry his name. His unique poetic creations have graced numerous magazines, newspapers, and contemporary anthologies, reaching readers across India and beyond. His artistry, rooted in heartfelt emotions and intricate expressions, carved a distinct space within global literary landscapes. Dr. Maji’s written legacy is solidified through eight remarkable poetry collections, each bearing the coveted ISBN. His books – Kavita Bichitra, Kavita Darpan, Probad Angina, Premer Boikunth, Sonnet Bhaskar, Harano Bamsari, Smarane Manane and Dreamscape are more than literary works; they are extensions of his soul. They have found their way into the hands of eager readers, offering solace, beauty, and wisdom through poetic verses that transcend time.

The accolades are endless, honouring his artistic contributions with the most distinguished awards: Bharat Gaurav Ishan Award, International Solidarity Award, Kabi Ratna Award, Sarat Sahitya Ratna Award, Bengal Shiksha Gaurav, International Kabi Ratna Award, and many more, including the Royal of Art and Literature Award, Bishwa Bongo Sahitya Award, Golden Pen Award, Golden Star Award, William Shakespeare Award, Poet of Nature Award, and the revered Gold Poetry Prize Winner. These titles bear witness to his unwavering commitment to poetry and the sheer brilliance of his literary craft. His story is not merely about accolades or achievements – it is about a man who dared to transform life’s melodies into poetry, leaving behind an enduring legacy that will inspire generations to come.

Aura

A silent Pitchfork, a rubble outside

I am all that i have been, not so well connected

A galactic fusion over the rimmed walls

A paycheck for the month it’s all a plaything

Poetry calls me often in the darkest night

A knowing edge surpassed me

As I went down the rabbit hole

This is the age of new thought protestants

A summer binder over at my glass

I know that butter cup lifelong simulation

Poetic engulfment is rising the aura is new

Of sub divisions and postmodern pranks

The fun we had at the treehouse jingoism

The subversion is all around my wretched watch.

BOUND BY GUILT

In front of the cage,

you stood with the key,

holding me still –

„Look what you’ve done to yourself“

you screamed.

You never stopped me from running –

just chained my wrists

with silence and guilt.

You never raised a hand,

yet I wore bruises

like a second skin.

You’d laugh and say,

„So clumsy, love –

you must have tripped again“.

Jovana Lj. Milovanović is a Serbian poet, born on December 10, 2000. She is a member of the Association of Young Artists of Culture. Her poetry collection In the Beginning There Was a Woman is currently in preparation.

Your Lily Awaiting

I look out the window and think of you

knowing that you are as sad as I am

The sound of the Cuckoo reminds me of that

When we talk, I can tell you have been crying

This time of year is always the hardest on us

The nights last forever and I will be glad

when I will see my love again

Your Lily awaiting…

I cry out for you, for it is lonely here without you

My only happiness is knowing this sadness will not last

because the warmth of the sun will be coming soon

The cry of the Cuckoo will turn into the beautiful Bird of Paradise

and the return of Summer will dry your tears..

Your Lily, will bloom just for you

I await your return anxiously..

Love Will Heal my Soul

In a world where nothing makes sense anymore;

Where the clouds no longer rain, and oceans thirst

I refuse to let the perils of giving up, win

I am not a woman who quits, and I need nothing

but the nectar of hope that fills my tearful eyes

Paint a portrait of my soul with the colors of red

and write me a poem filled with sound of the wind

My heart beats with the blood of a warrior

though soft and gentle on the surface of my being

I can withstand the beating from the world around me

and I will stitch the wounds around my own heart

with strands of resilience that will keep me, alive.

And in the end, it will be love that heals my soul.

Step Back in Time

I miss the words we used to utter in the night

that seem now like dreams woken from

Let me find you as you were long ago

with caring thoughts and concern for me

I still seek that man and never forgot him

I believe he still remains, in his heart of hearts

I wait for him to take a step back in time

and once more sing again the song

that won my heart when we first met

I miss hearing it in the night, under the lit stars

as I gazed into the eyes of who used to sing it.

Kristy Ann Raines was born Kristy Ann Rasmussen in Oakland California, in the United States of America.  

She is an accomplished international poet and writer.  Kristy has two self-published books on Amazon titled, “The Passion within Me”, and  an anthology of epistolary poems, written with a prominent poet from India, Dr. Prasana Kumar Dalai, titled, “I Cross My Heart from East to West”.

She has one children’s short story book coming out soon, titled “Tishya the Dragon”, and a few other children’s stories to follow. 

Kristy is also working on finishing two very special fantasy books that have been in the works for quite a few years, titled “Rings, Things and Butterfly Wings” and “Princess and the Lion”. 

She is also writing her autobiography titled “My Very Anomalous Life”.  

It is her life story that few know about, and the many transformations she went through.  She reveals every interesting and sometimes tragic aspect of her life. She shares her failures, victories, tears, joys, losses, heartbreaks, and how she changed, by the grace of God. 

A loving family and how two wonderful children stood by her through her transformation to who she is today.

Kristy has received numerous awards for her distinctive writing style and her work as an advocate and humanitarian around the world.

Kristy also enjoys painting, making pottery, writing song lyrics, and being with her family.  

She is married, has an older brother and sister, two wonderful children, and is a proud grandmother of three beautiful granddaughters. with one great-grandchild on the way! 

Let No Regret Remain

Let all be regret, but not Paradise,

May God’s bright mercy never disguise.

Let people turn their faces away,

But may Allah’s gaze with us stay.

Let them forget us, leave us behind,

If God remembers, peace we’ll find.

Let them not pardon, let them not care,

If Allah forgives, that is fair.

Let them not love us, cold they may be,

If Allah loves, it’s enough for me.

Let them not trust, let doubts appear,

Allah is witness, always near.

Let them not cherish, let hearts depart,

If God has love, it fills the heart.

Let them not see us, vanish one day,

If God still seeks us, we’ll find our way.

So do not grieve, my dearest friend,

Our goal is Heaven, our journey’s end.

Their hearts to please is not our quest,

For God’s contentment is surely best

Sharifova Saidaxon Kamolliddinjon qizi was born on May 26, 2008, in the village of Kaldushon, Furqat district, Fergana region, into an intellectual family.

In 2015, she began her studies as a first-grade student at School No. 21 in Furqat district, where she is currently an 11th-grade student.

Beyond her school curriculum, Saidaxon actively participates in various extracurricular clubs. She speaks English fluently and, despite her young age, is the holder of more than 15 international and official certificates. She has also taken part in numerous projects. Moreover, her poems have been published by the official publishing house Lulu Press Inc.