Very Far Away

Desolate and empty I looked out the window.

There were no roads, there was no one…

There was only me

Accompanied by my thoughts

Sometimes hopeful, other times gloomy…

I got away from everything and everyone…

I went so far even so far inside myself

That I couldn’t go back…

Mirta Liliana Ramírez has been a poet and writer since she was 12 years old. She has been a Cultural Manager for more than 35 years. Creator and Director of the Groups of Writers and Artists: Together for the Letters, Artescritores, MultiArt, JPL world youth, Together for the letters Uzbekistan 1 and 2. She firmly defends that culture is the key to unite all the countries of the world. She works only with his own, free and integrating projects at a world cultural level. She has created the Cultural Movement with Rastrillaje Cultural and Forming the New Cultural Belts at the local level and also from Argentina to the world.

ICE AGE

Once LA streets were bustling with dense crowds—

people browsing, buying, meeting friends,

hanging out in restaurants and bars

not far from where they live and feel at home.

Then unmarked cars swoop in. Terrorist-types

in street clothes jump out. Masked, and waving guns—

Sig Sauer P320Cs. Storm troopers.

They choose a brown face. Slam him to the ground,

Call him illegal. Cuff him. Drag him off.

Your classic snatch-and-grab. Who are these men?

ICE, they say. Who knows? Guns serve as warrants.

The President’s tax-funded bounty hunters

treat deporting immigrants like sport.

A “No Kings” protest challenges ICE rights.

The uncrowned King sends back-up—National Guard

and tough Marines. Armed soldiers roam the streets

just like in the countries many fled.

Now LA streets are empty. People hide.

Some are legal. Some aren’t. All are prey.

The Mayor calls it overkill. No need

for U.S. troops to threaten LA people.

But #47 wants revenge.

If he can’t conquer Canada or Greenland,

he’ll checkmate California, punish voters.

Liberate the Blue States’ biggest cities–

drain labor from LA, New York, Chicago…

So ICE now raids Home Depot parking lots,

flea markets, Walmart, Immigration Courts.

In one Milwaukee Immigration Court,

ICE barges in; and, when their prey escapes,

roughs up the judge who questions ICE’s tactics.

In Newark, a Congressional delegation

checks out an immigrant detention tank.

The Newark Mayor tries to join the group,

but ICE strong-arms him with a strangle-hold.

Arrests the city’s mayor for trespassing.

A congresswoman, shocked, moves to his aid.

ICE goons grab her, too, say she’s a threat.

Both VIPs are Democrats. Both black.

One Senator meets ICE while on the job–

Homeland Security’s Press Conference.

The Senator moves in to ask a question.

ICE tackles him, and drags him out the door.

Resisting arrest is the purported charge.

His real crime? First, he’s from California.

Second, he’s a Democrat. And third—

the Senator’s Hispanic. ICE’s bane.

On the books, there are protective laws.

But ICE has open mandate to deport

all threats—and every immigrant’s a threat

to keeping gene pools unpolluted white.

So raids lump brown-toned faces all together–

though some have valid visas, some are even

citizens. Courts order a jailed student

released. Demand another be let out

of prison in El Salvador. But law

is not an issue when the real goal

is ethnic cleansing. If you dare protest,

you’re now the enemy. The President

can call out the militia, stamp you down.

Dictators always take this path to power.

Copyright 6/2025               Patricia Doyne

* Milwaukee judge- Hannah Dugan; Newark Mayor– Ras Baraka; Dem. Congresswoman– La Monica McIver; CA Senator- Alex Padilla; Released– Mahmoud Khalil (student) & Abrego Garcia

PEOPLE EARTH

I watch them from my living room window

The thermometer reads 96 degrees, in the shade

They work in teams, pulling orange cables from one hole to the next.

My eye catches one head of thick, black hair,

poking up through my lawn.

Surrounded by a mound of red, clay earth, with shovel in hand, he emerges from the depths of the South Carolina clay. 

They are the same hue of red, the earth and he.

They are as one, in the heat of the blistering sun

Exposed, thirsty, scorched, relentless in their work.

One goes in the hole, the next emerges with a length of orange cable in hand.

The next enters another portal, followed by the next, it goes on, in an unnatural pattern, for as far as I can see.

Men of the earth, covered in clay, digging into the mother, on a hot, summer’s day.

Their sweat, mixed with the clay earth, has changed the color of their shirts from white to a blood stained red. 

He removes his sombrero, wipes his brow.

And awaits the arrival of his mid day meal.

A Suburban pulls up to a group of a dozen or so earth-painted, people.

Salutations are exchanged in Spanish, some hugs, a few kisses, and lots of smiling faces embrace the arrival of la comida.

Hot, homemade, food is distributed from coolers, by the hands of grateful, gracious, brave and courageous women. 

Back to the earth, for back breaking digging.

Into the mother to earn a living.

These are the earth people, the ones who know that the only way to reach the other side…is to go through.

IT’S JUST THE WIND

The wind possesses a sentimental soul

A sincere and soft heart to adore the trees

Passionately in love, maybe not yet, how can the wind know?

When in the middle of chaos

There are many mountain tops it has to blow

The wind wonders why we live on the same earth

When the trees and the wind colour the afternoon of dating

Why humans observe discreetly each other’s wounds

The trees pretend not to know the wind

The trees pretend not to love

Not to have a fond remembrance, not to be jealous

They let the wind pass by

Like an apricot branch that never blooms

Like a romantic couple

Never passing this town on a bike

Happiness streaking through them like a comet

They couldn’t stop laughing

And by a cafe she drank two cups of lemon juice

Not sure if the trees have to pretend not to love anyone else

For the afternoon leaning, a few drops of sunlight scattering

For the unsteady sea forgetting its quiet sail

For the humans with the same blood colour

Keep doubting each other and forming opposite sides

The wind wishes

There are no wars on earth

The trees are not neglected

And the stormy seasons

Have not caused misunderstanding between them

So that when the wind passing by

The trees would feel

Love is so affectionate, trustworthy and cherishing

So that when the wind passing by

We would love our earth a lot more

The wind blames the trees just a little bit

Then it would be back to its chaotic journey

Then it would surf this planet

That is filled with colourful happy and sad stories

IT’S JUST THE WIND was born from a reflection on the affections between beings, whether trees and wind, or people with one another. I imagined the wind is a force of nature and a soul with longing, tenderness, and a wish for peace. Through metaphor, this poem seeks to speak gently to the human condition: our hesitations, our masks, and our shared yearning for connection in a divided world. The wind becomes a witness, sometimes brushed aside, sometimes misunderstood, but always carrying the hope that love can be felt openly and that harmony, like wind through branches, might one day move through us all. (Vo Thi Nhu Mai)

Võ Thị Như Mai is a Vietnamese writer, poet, and translator based in Western Australia. She has published four poetry collections in Vietnamese and numerous translated works both in Vietnam and abroad. A senior specialist teacher and cultural advocate, Mai also hosts a literary podcast and contributes essays on multicultural literature. Her long-running website, vietnampoetry.wordpress.com, has showcased Vietnamese poetry and translation for over 15 years.

IF:

WAR is best served RAW,

The LIVE appearance of the world is EVIL,

“To have WON” is only appreciated in the NOW,

a RAM is the grass’ MAR,

MALI has the same energy state as LIMA,

a WOLF can keep up with its activity FLOW,

LAUD really share similar characters with DUAL,

a BAT can keep a TAB on its prey,

moving through the RAIL of life would make me a LIAR,

my ‘i WAS’ actually referred to my ‘i SAW’,

dinosaurs ARE existing in our ERA,

a MUG could only be made out of a GUM,

a certain PAT can TAP into the potentials of his subordinates,

a PART of crime is a TRAP over innocence,

YAM can fully be harvested in the month of MAY,

one could ZAP available energies in la-PAZ,

the tip of an abyss is a sub-set of the bottom-less PIT,

RAGE could reach its GEAR of destruction,

in a POOL of water lies its LOOP of ripples

one could RAP her way to be at PAR with the opulent,

OPRAH, don’t you think we need to inform HARPO about these?

The Love For Humanity: The Hatred For War

The death of innocent souls in wars

makes matter worse

Why should the mighty push for such human disaster

over a trivial matter?

When a nation of great strength wages war

against ‘a lesser’ that once shared territorial grounds more,

It creates unhealthy concerns for the rest of the world

as the loss of lives and property would become seriously odd

Experimenting with bio weapons 

at the expense of innocent lives in those nations

Is stretching humanity beyond its threshold of peace

to the point of embracing the purpose of unease

What is the gain of disturbing peaceful coexistence

If not witnessing the pain of disturbance?

Let the powers that be give a second thought to their action;

for the future would assert the reaction

Humanity craves for rest of its rest

So, it would be unpalatable to disturb that crest

Truth be told,

Regardless of who seem to be at fault,

War should not be what is to be looked as fought

There is always a ground of reconciliation

an understanding of co-operation,

a place for dialogue,

a method of taking out lingering backlogs,

an eventual resolving of differences,

a viable approach to avoid in future sitting on defense,

The love of mankind is paramount

So, war must be in a state of surmount!

Emphases

The rain breaks the dam, playing the monsoon,

Cold “Increases the cold winter wave”,

In the afternoon, when the sun goes down, the evening comes down.

Life comes in the chariot of praise, and the garbage of the dark also comes.

If the catastrophe is a little overwhelming to stop, to show,

Be stopped, however

Greater

Roses to developed in the mind,

There will be a lot of attention,

If the fear is to show fear, the fear will escape,

The language of the gentleness does not understand that showing it to him.

Short biography: Amb. Dr.Priyanka Neogi from Coochbehar. She is an administrative Controller of United Nations PAF, librarian, CEO of Lio Messi International Property & land Consultancy, international literacy worker, sports & peace promoter, dancer, singer, reciter, live telecaster, writer, editor, researcher, Literary journalist, host, beauty queen, international Co-ordinator of Vijay Mission of Community Welfare Foundation of India.

MUNAVVARA SOLAYEVA – THE OWNER OF SCIENCE AND CREATIVITY

Munavvara Solayeva is the first female PhD holder in philology from Urgench State University. The scholar was born on February 2, 1925, in the city of Khiva. In 1954, after successfully defending her PhD dissertation, she was assigned to the Khorezm State Pedagogical Institute. Munavvara Solayeva was one of the pioneers of this prestigious institution, dedicating her entire career to its development. She was among the first women to boldly travel to Moscow, where she defended her dissertation in Russian on the topic “The Lyrics of Uyg‘un”. She devoted 34 years to scientific and teaching activities at the institute where she began her career.

       In 1993, her monograph titled “Navoi and the Poets of Khorezm” was published. In recognition of her lifelong contributions, academic achievements, and ethical qualities, the university administration established a state scholarship named after Munavvara Solayeva.

      One of her exceptional qualities was her poetic talent. Over the years, her numerous scientific, journalistic articles, and poems covering relevant social and literary topics were published. These works, including poems and ghazals, have been compiled in a collection titled “A Heart in Love with Science”, prepared by poet, writer, and member of the Uzbekistan Writers’ Union, Qurbon Muhammadrizo. The book was published by Ogahiy Publishing House in 2023. The presentation of the book took place at Urgench State University named after Abu Rayhan Beruni in a highly spirited atmosphere. As a student, I also participated in the event, where we expressed admiration for Munavvara Solayeva’s courage and remarkable achievements as a woman. We aspire to become brave, active, and dedicated educators and scholars like her.

         The collection “A Heart in Love with Science” includes Munavvara Solayeva’s journalistic articles on important topics such as “What is Humanity?”, “The Literary Relations of the Two Shores”, “The Sultan of Poetry”, “The Owner of Bright Creativity”, and “The Scholar of Poetry and Art”. It also features her scientific articles such as “One Poem”, “The Pain of Poetry, the Love of Science, the Magic of Art”, “The Spirit of Navoi Protects Me…”, “May Your Flight Be High”, “The Evening Came to My Hut”, “The Tragedy of the Ghazal”, “Navoi’s Traditions in Ogahiy’s Lyrics”, “The Image of Women in “Khamsa” “, and “Navoi’s Spring Melodies”.

         By reading these works, readers gain a deep understanding of the historical period, the life, and the creative path of each literary figure discussed, along with new and comprehensive reflections on their legacies. The collection also presents her heartfelt poems such as “To My Mother”, “My Father”, “Navoi and Ogahiy”, “Fable”, “Ode to Spring”, “The Book”, “The Muse of Inspiration”, “Winter and Spring”, “Black Eyes”, as well as her ghazals with refrains “Are You My Beloved?”, “I Am Devoted”, “I Seek”, “Regret” and her muvaššah (poetic form) “The Teacher”. The poetic garden of her works stirs the hearts and touches the souls of readers, undoubtedly leaving a lasting impression on every admirer of literature.

Iroda Rakhimova Islombekovna was born on August 8, 2005, in the city of Khiva, located in the Khorezm region of Uzbekistan. She graduated from the School number 11 in Khiva with a gold medal and was admitted to Urgench State University named after Abu Rayhan Beruni on the basis of a state scholarship. Currently, she is a second-year student at the Faculty of Philology and Arts at the same university. Her poems, short stories, and articles have been published in both national and international journals. She is an active member of the “Mushoira” literary club established at the university and continues her creative work through this platform.