The Earth

There is a hunger for power – there is a lust for power. 

There is human waste here – there is the cry of destruction of dreams. 

BLUE

I'm not going down the river
Nor do I look at your window crouched down
Between the red bricks,
I no longer call out in the dead of night
Fearing that nothing would be heard from There.

I'm not going anywhere from this room
From this song, from the last walk.
Can I be where I was
Even though it's not anymore?!
(But I was only with You
There where I am not...)

It scares me that I will forget your voice!
How does one start to forget?!
First, one wrinkle is corrected,
Then another,
The laughter dies down,
All the moles on the neck and hands fade,
You start to dream silently
And that face is getting farther and foggier,
Like a river and air
From last night
Blue.

I'm not going anywhere outside these walls
And I should go somewhere else,
Lean on random shoulders
In passing and untangle from the hair, with long fingers,

An intricate poem.



Az Emina Krehić was born on October 14, 1992 in Metković, Republic of Croatia.
Winner of several international awards for poetry, including:
Award of university professors in Trieste, 2019.,
„Mak Dizdar“ award, 2020.
Award of the Publishing Foundation of the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina, 2021.
„Fra Martin Nedić“ Award, 2022.

She is represented in several international anthologies of poetry.

Bangabandhu, The Hero of Bangla

Bangabandhu, you are the hero
Not only in a movie or a drama
You are the hero 
Of the whole Bangla

You are the icon of truth
Have shown your patriotism in every root
You are the icon of brave
Having no fear of falling to the cave

You are the poet of independence
Opening the eyes of every Bengalis lens

You are the icon of motivation
Never stopped in any severe situation
Fighting in faith 
Salute to them for the country who are dead

You are the icon of love 
Remaining in every Bengalis heart

You are the icon of true sole
Hats off to you, to your role.

Robiul Awal Esa is a 1st year student of Diploma in Nursing Science & Midwifery Course in  Government Nursing Institue, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh. 

The land of Bangladesh


In the land of Bangladesh, 
Where the monsoons bring life and breath, 
The people thrive with an unyielding zest, 
And their spirit shines through every test. 
From the mangrove forests of the Sundarbans, 
To the tea plantations of Srimangal, 
Every inch of this country bears witness, 
To a beauty that's beyond measure or scale. 
With a rich history and vibrant culture, 
Bangladesh's story is one of grit and nurture, 
Where heroes and legends stand tall, 
Their stories echoing through every hall. 
The red and green flag waves high, 
A symbol of pride and unity in the sky, 
For a nation that stands strong and bold, 
Defying all odds with a heart of gold. 
So here's to Bangladesh, 
A land of wonders and endless zest,
May her people always find their way, 
And her glory shine bright every day.

Wazed Abdullah is a student of grade 8 in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh. 

In a Day of Winter

Winter is a season of cold and mist
This time dew shines on the leaves
It shows a lot of beauty of nature
In a day of winter,
I was walking on the street, I saw
The trees were dry
The leaves left the trees, I think
The leaves did not want live with the trees
The sun rays hide back of the dew
It wants to reach on the earth, I think
If I could be the sun rays!
I would come on the earth
To make happy the trees
To remove the dew and mist and make clear the sky. 



Don Bormon is a student of grade 8 in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.  

Letter in a drawer

We wanted to be there
for you but being
only kids ourselves,
we got caught up
in the riptide of living
in that technicolor
time of sexual
revolution and
tie-dyed, platform shoe
evolution and so
when it came to raising
you and your brothers
and sisters,
there were no
easy solutions
so we let you
go barefoot
and free as the
Santa Ana winds,
knowing that life
is more fun
when you open
the windows and
doors, put on
Peter, Paul and Mary
and let the breeze
blow in
anyway, forgive us
if we weren't the
picture perfect parents
straight out of Life Magazine
that you wished we were
just have some
compassion for our
passion and know
your mama and your papa's
actions might have been
crazy as our family pet
Capuchin monkey
yet our intentions
were always pure



Brushed Shoulders

I always knew you
had that certain something
that can't be taught
or even guided
and that your temperament
was tailor-made in the shade
and that if given the chance
you would harness the forces
of good with a dash of evil
for good measure
and that you would bring
pleasure to the king
and queen and the court of
public opinion
and that for you
the stars would all align
I also knew that when
you reached the top
you would no longer
remember
you were once
a friend of mine



Me of little faith

You'd think by now
I'd live comfortably
without the need
for a great deal of hope
but I still play Lotto
read fortune cookies
as well as dabble
in unanswered prayers
and I often ask others
if they still believe
in the lord
or a lover
and they say
"yes, implicitly"
yet I wish they'd
elaborated explicitly
but I have a respect
for privacy and don't
push it any further
and accept that
people like me
ultimately
end up
alone in a room
with nothing
but a crucifix
and a rosary



Drunk Text 

I can honestly say
I knew you were lying
to me and next to me
at the same time
I was falling for
the character you
were creating from
scratching my back
while putting up a front
of always taking
the middle ground
most of all
I liked having you
around and around
the time we stopped
getting along
I didn't exactly
stop loving our song
I just no longer
needed to sing along
as I drove myself
sane after going
crazy over you
and your quirks
and all the perks
that go with
being in love with
nothing more
than a what if
and so what if
we will never
know what might
have been
because we could
not get past
the future that
will never
ever be seen
look, I didn't mean
to confuse
or use you
I think you know
deep down in
your broken heart
exactly what I mean



It's on me

So much
has happened
since we fought
over who would
pick up the bill
at that five-star
time of our life
and I still have
my head up
in the iCloud
and would rather
Google old loves
than actually call
because I'm
ashamed of being
mortal after all
that buzz around me
back when I was so close
to the big money
I could almost
spend it
anyway, I'll pay
the tab
if you pay
the tip
with one
of your debits
and we can then
stay past the end
of our story
to watch
the credits


Discounting Sheep

This is my story
though I can't
really claim
to be the author
because it was all
as unpredictable as
the weather or a lover
or someone or other
who said something
that discouraged or
encouraged me to
try or give up on
things that might
have made everything
not necessarily
wrong or right
but at least
better than this
mix of happiness
and loneliness
that keeps me
up at night
wondering what
could have or
might have been
better or worse
I think having this
hypersensitive mind
is a blessing
and a curse


Content Discontent

I've held on
to the promise
of a dream
within a fantasy
of a vision
whispered
as a wish
while meditating
upon a vision
of an ambition
and I have yet
to see it
materialize
into something
in the 3D
dimension
within the
context of
the day in
day out
drudgery
that I am really
trying to do
something about
but what bugs me
the most
is that this
leaves me with
absolutely nothing
to post



Bio:

Ivan Jenson is a fine artist, novelist and popular contemporary poet who lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan. 

His artwork was featured in Art in America, Art News, and Interview Magazine and has sold at auction at Christie’s. Amongst Ivan’s commissions are the final portrait of the late Malcolm Forbes and a painting titled “Absolut Jenson” for Absolut Vodka’s national ad campaign. His Absolut paintings are in the collection of the Spritmuseum, the museum of spirits in Stockholm, Sweden. Jenson’s painting of the “Marlboro Man” was collected by the Philip Morris corporation. 

His novels, Dead Artist and Seeing Soriah, illustrate the creative, often dramatic lives of artists. Jenson’s poetry is widely published (with over 1000 poems published in the US, UK and Europe) in a variety of literary media. He has published a poetry book, Media Child and Other Poems, and two novels, Marketing Mia and Erotic Rights. 

Mundane Miracles, his critically acclaimed poetry collection, hit number 1 on Amazon in American Poetry.

Ivan Jenson’s website: www.ivanjenson.com
Twitter: @IvanJenson