Sweetness in everything
The sweetness in a child's voice binds the hearts of parents
A young woman's sweet smile seduces a man
Unhappy people cure sadness with chocolate
All the delights of this world are intoxicating
And attractive
As we get closer, everything carries both poison and medicine in it.
But no matter how much it ensnares us, we again go towards sweetness in all things.
Maja Milojković was born in 1975 in Zaječar, Serbia.
She is a person to whom from an early age, Leonardo da Vinci's statement "Painting is poetry that can be seen, and poetry is painting that can be heard" is circulating through the blood.
That's why she started to use feathers and a brush and began to reveal the world and herself to them.
As a poet, she is represented in numerous domestic and foreign literary newspapers, anthologies and electronic media, and some of her poems can be found on YouTube.
Many of her poems have been translated into English, Hungarian, Bengali and Bulgarian due to the need of foreign readers.
She is the recipient of many international awards.
"Trees of Desire" is her second collection of poems in preparation, which is preceded by the book of poems "Moon Circle".
She is a member of the International Society of Writers and Artists "Mountain Views" in Montenegro, and she also is a member of the Poetry club "Area Felix" in Serbia.
A Tale of a Bird
A bird of prey flew away before me
While I was watching, I could not turn my eyes for a single moment
From that scene of changing ponderous sight.
I was not born at the time of independence of our Bangladesh
It ignited my nerves and blood to see the way of people’s
Breaking the curfew flowing the waves of the ocean on the road.
The king bird sat with the chief of staffs
But what an irony of fate no way other than
Resigning the post of the prime minister!
It had only forty minutes to leave the nest of Gono Bhabon
And at last the bird spread its feathers and flew away out of sight.
I would not like to write any episode for this
Though it has already been written in every part of the earth
And will last in every pages of history for the generation after generation
They will learn the type of bird and will sigh in astonishing
I see the birds everyday flying over head
Not like that on 05 August, 2024.
Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh
13 August, 2024.Md. Mahbubul Alam is from Bangladesh. His writer name is Mahbub John in Bangladesh. He is a Senior Teacher (English) of Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh. Chapainawabganj is a district town of Bangladesh. He is an MA in English Literature from Rajshahi College under National University. He has published three books of poems in Bangla. He writes mainly poems but other branches of literature such as prose, article, essay etc. also have been published in national and local newspapers, magazines, little magazines. He has achieved three times the Best Teacher Certificate and Crest in National Education Week in the District Wise Competition in Chapainawabganj District. He has gained many literary awards from home and abroad. His English writings have been published in Synchronized Chaos for seven years.
The bride
On Thursday, the first of April. University Street in the Karrada district was alive with a grand carnival. Fifteen carriages drawn by white horses paraded in majestic succession, perfectly coordinated, one after another. Leading the way was the bride's carriage, the sixteenth in total. This carriage stood out in every aspect. Colours were purposefully scattered across it, and in bold, green Kufic script, it read: Congratulations on your marriage.
The horse was adorned in attire befitting the occasion, showered in vibrant, glittering colours. The coachman, dressed in colourful garb, his fez standing proudly atop his head, played with a leather rein and whipped the horse with the force of lightning, uttering incomprehensible words that only his companion and faithful horse might understand. The faces of those participating in the celebration glowed with laughter and joy, beaming with contentment. Everyone was happy.
One remarked playfully, "A good idea... an innovative approach... horse-drawn carriages instead of cars." Another chimed in, "A new trend that might become widespread in the future." Someone else jested, "Atrees' marriage to Fouada is invalid..." The carriages jostled forward, horses neighing, applause growing louder and more vibrant. Bodies, heated by the warmth of the carnival, began to sweat. The women's faces turned redder and shinier.
Children ran, delighted, drumming behind the horses. The women's ululations, both familiar and unfamiliar, echoed high. Children's voices rose and fell. Young girls sang an Iraqi song by Maida Nuzhet: Tonight is their henna night, and in Basra, they celebrate their wedding. Other girls echoed the second verse: Basra has become a paradise. Everyone was lost in their own world, but the bride and groom were in their own world.
A smile graced the bride's lips, her dreamy, radiant eyes filled with meaning. The groom, with heartfelt sincerity, said, "Today is the day I've always dreamed of, being by your side, my dear." She lowered her head shyly, a faint smile playing on her lips, and replied, "Me too." He continued "You have no idea how much I love you and how I've longed for this day to come. Believe me, I'm not exaggerating when I say it's the happiest day of my life."
She remained silent, perhaps out of shyness. He paused, then added, "I will, God willing, provide everything that makes you happy, my love." With a hint of mischief, he continued, "Do I have anything more precious than you now? You are the garden, and I am the gardener." Her lips parted in a broad smile, and her honey-colored eyes and angelic, childlike face radiated contentment.
She responded, "I will make our home a bed of roses and the air filled with fragrance. I will serve you with the lashes of my eyes and remain faithful to you as long as I live." His heart warmed at her words, which fell upon him like pieces of ice on a scorching day. He gathered his composure and said, "Thank you for these heartfelt emotions... I always knew you were like this. Trust me, my dear, I will buy you a large house by the Tigris, with servants. I will make every room unique in its design and furniture. My love, I want to see you as a queen in this palace, an empress in this home."
The coachman overheard some of these words, raised his whip high, and struck the horse forcefully as if to say, "Enough lies and deceit on this poor girl." The wedding procession continued its calm march, turning left onto Abu Nuwas Street, where the bars and clubs were. Men with beer bottles waved in celebration of the wedding parade, shouting various words, both polite and impolite. Ululations rose, and voices sang songs from a golden era. Words floated from here and there, indicating that on a wedding day, everything is permissible.
The procession exited Abu Nuwas Street and turned onto Saadoun Street. The groom, feeling encouraged, said to her, "I will fulfil all your dreams. Don't be surprised, my heart burns for you, almost worshipfully. I will pray to God fervently to achieve our goal." The bride felt reassured by his praise, which was filled with love and devotion. Waves of affection and tenderness rose within her.
She trusted him more and more, finding comfort in this man who had given her life and restored her identity. She believed his words, seeing them as honey from a sincere heart and a loyal, honorable husband. She drifted into the dreamy world of his rosy words, living in another realm, believing spring would soon bloom for her, unaware of the obstacles the future held.
The groom continued with his sweet words, sending them to the bride, who was lost in a sea of happiness and perpetual spring. The couple remained immersed in this bliss, the relatives and guests continued their shouting and singing, and the coachman relentlessly whipped the horse. The street was still crowded with people, but the procession moved on joyously.
Suddenly, the horse's leg twisted, and it collapsed. The bride's carriage quickly overturned, In the hospital, the bride had lost one of her eyes due to a severe blow to her head but the groom was unharmed. The groom looked at his bride intently, said nothing, turned his back, and left the hospital.The next day, he sent a note to his bride in the hospital: It's not proper for me to be married to a one-eyed woman, you are divorced.
The bride shook her head and said, “Thank God...he failed on the first try."
By Abdul Zahra Amara
Translated by Faleeha HassanAbdul Zahra Amara Novelist, Storyteller, and Scientific Researcher Birth: 1951, Amara, Maysan Governorate, Southern Iraq Education: Bachelor's degree in Electronic Engineering from the College of Engineering, University of Baghdad, 1976
Professional Roles: Editor-in-Chief of Sumerian Amarji Magazine Member of the Iraqi Engineers Syndicate with the rank of Consulting Engineer Published Works: Novels: Tomorrow I Will Leave! A Lover from Kanza Rabba Flu in Baghdad No Time for Tears Dogs in the Dark Blood in the Fish Lake The Servants Are on Vacation Baghdad Never Sleeps Fadia Waiting for the Moon The Blonde of Basra I Adore You Until the End of My Life Palace Rats A Forest of Thieves The Glow of Youth Cellist Stories: The Sun Shines in Women's Eyes Misses of Babylon A Cat on the Road When Do You Take Off the Turban? The Secretary and the Fall.
Raising the war
Like a pet
The tyrants raise the war
At first, they feed it
Their sick dreams
Their reviews of the soldiers under the heat of the summer sun
Maps they have imagined for their conquests
Speeches they have written in dark rooms
The future of our children
And when that war grows
It chews away at us
Every day
Every hour
Every moment
Like a ruminating animal.
Faleeha Hassan is a poet, teacher, editor, writer, and playwright born in Najaf, Iraq, in 1967, who now lives in the United States. Faleeha was the first woman to write poetry for children in Iraq. She received her master's degree in Arabic literature, and has now published 26 books, her poems have been translated into English, Turkmen, Bosnian, Indian, French, Italian, German, Kurdish, Spain, Korean, Greek, Serbia, Albanian, Pakistani, Romanian, Malayalam, Chinese, ODIA, Nepali and Macedonian language. She is a Pulitzer Prize Nominee for 2018, and a Pushcart Prize Nominee for 2019. She's a member of the International Writers and Artists Association. Winner of the Women of Excellence Inspiration award from SJ magazine 2020, and the Winner of the Grand Jury Award (the Sahitto International Award for Literature 2021). She served on the Women of Excellence selection committees for 2023, was a winner of a Women In The Arts award in 2023 and a Member of Who's Who in America 2023. She's on the Sahitto Award's judging panel for 2023 and a cultural ambassador between Iraq and the US.
Every morning, when I took my little girl to the ballet palace, her eyes would shine and she would be very happy. She liked the elegance and charm of ballet movements. One day my little princess cried:
– Father, I can’t do it.
– My little princess, don’t cry, you can do anything. One day my little princess will definitely become a ballet princess.
– Really? When?
– If you keep moving forward.
«Ok» she said, walking away from me.
One day I came home and called my little girl:
– My daughter, your teacher gave you a gift.
– Really? What kind
– See for yourself.
– Wow, that’s great – her eyes were shining. In the big picture, a beautiful ballet princess in a blue dress, with roses in her hands, kneeling at the horse’s feet, and the silver roads, transparent canals and rivers of the paradise garden were depicted.
– Your teacher praised you. If you keep trying, this beautiful ballet queen said that you too can be.
– Thank you, father. I will definitely be a ballet queen as my teacher said.
Years have passed. Looking at this picture for a long time, today I was one of the ballet masters who embodied all the beauty and grace. But today my father was not with me. When I took the picture and hugged it tightly, I noticed the inscription on the back: «A gift from father to my little princess.»
Nosirova Gavhar was born on August 16, 2000 in the city of Shahrisabz, Kashkadarya region of Uzbekistan. Today, she is a third-year student of the Faculty of Philology of the Samarkand State University of Uzbekistan. Being a lover of literature, she is engaged in writing stories and poems. Her creative works have been published in Uzbek and English. In addition, she is a member of «All India Council for Development of Technical Skills», «Juntosporlasletras» of Argentina, «2DSA Global Community». Winner of the «Korablznaniy» and «TalentyRossii» contests, holder of the international C1 level in the Russian language, Global Education ambassador of Wisdom University and global coordinator of the Iqra Foundation in Uzbekistan. «Magic pen holders» talented young group of Uzbekistan, «KayvaKishor», «Friendship of people», «Raven Cage», «The Daily Global Nation», Argentina;s «Multi Art-6», Kenya’s «Serenity: A compilation of art and literature by women» contains creative works in the magazine and anthology of poets and writers.
The Moonlight Night
The moon shines bright in the dark,
Stars twinkle, tiny sparks.
Night is quiet, calm, and cool,
Moonlight's mystery, a glowing pool.
Shadows embraces across the ground,
Peaceful silence all around.
In the night, dreams softly rise,
Beneath the moon in quiet skies.
Wazed Abdullah is a student of grade nine in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
J. D. Nelson is the author of eleven print chapbooks and e-books of poetry, including *purgatorio* (wlovolw, 2024). His first full-length collection is *in ghostly onehead* (Post-Asemic Press, 2022). Visit his website,MadVerse.com, for more information and links to his published work. Nelson lives in Boulder, Colorado, USA.
