Poetry from Faleeha Hassan

Young Central Asian woman with a green headscarf and a dark colored blouse and brown hair and eyes.
Faleeha Hassan
When I drink tea in New Jersey

Like a girl who writes poetry about a boy she has never seen
My day sits with all this disappointment
Counting her fleeting moments
 I remember my mother using the smell of onions
 To shed her tears in the kitchen
For the absence of my father
 Who climbed his life war by war
Whenever he wore his military belt
 He wished that war was just an old shoe
He could take it off whenever he liked
And he didn't need to think of fixing it at the cobbler's shop
I remember my brother
Who asked in his letters--
When will the war understand that we are not good at dealing with death?
I remember us forty years ago
We were kids, very much kids
With colourful clothes and hearts
It was enough for us to see a balloon
To drown in big laughter
I remember all this now 
When I drink my tea
I practice my loneliness.
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, Pushcart Prize Nominee for 2019. She's also a: 

Member of International Writers and Artists Association.
Winner of the Women of Excellence Inspiration award from SJ magazine 2020,
Winner of the Grand Jury Award (the Sahitto International Award for Literature 2021)
One of the Women of Excellence selection committees 2023
Winner of women the arts award 2023
Member of Whos’ Who in America 2023

Cultural Ambassador - Iraq, USA
Email : d.fh88@yahoo.com

Poetry from Mahbub Alam

Middle aged South Asian man with reading glasses, short dark hair, and an orange and green and white collared shirt. He's standing in front of a lake with bushes and grass in the background.
Mahbub Alam
Ours is a Place

Ours is a place
Where nature smiles on
Ours is a place where birds circle overhead
Ours is a place
The green welcomes
Ours is a place where the peacock dances with colorful feathers
Ours is a place 
Where the tigers, the lions roar in the Sundarbons
Ours is a place
Where rivers, lakes run through almost all its areas
Ours is a place 
We love each other
Ours is a place which we bought
In exchange of sea blood
Ours is a place
We sleep with a sweet dream and get up
Walk hand in hand stepping in and out all over. 

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh,
25 April, 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 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. 

Poetry from Graciela Noemi Villaverde

Light skinned Latina woman with blonde hair and earrings and a black top.
Like a boat wake 
What, escape from time 
And not from water
I come from the slow day of words, 
That the moment undoes to the elements
I come and prostrate myself at this time of the afternoon, before the altar of shadows
I come from the gestures that have sunk in a sea 
Without voices, with dry violet eyes, on the bottom rock
I know that the twilights accumulate and surround me
Here I am 
I have been going, silently, for the silences
The times do not match 
The words leave me in cycles of old voices 
That's why I come and go 
No questions, no answers.

GRACIELA NOEMI VILLAVERDE is a writer and poet from Concepción del Uruguay (Entre Rios) Argentina. Based in Buenos Aires, she graduated in letters and is the author of seven books of poetry, awarded several times worldwide. She works as the World Manager of Educational and Social Projects of the Hispanic World Union of Writers and the UHE World Honorary President of the same institution Activa de la Sade, Argentine Society of Writers. Commissioner of honor in the executive cabinet IN THE EDUCATIONAL AND SOCIAL RELATIONS DIVISION, of the UNACCC SOUTH AMERICA ARGENTINA CHAPTER.

Poetry from Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa

Light skinned Filipina woman with reddish hair, a green and yellow necklace, and a floral pink and yellow and green blouse.
Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa
It is Raining!!!

Pitter Patter, a symphony 
Drops of diamonds I longed to see
Listen to its gentle harmony
Calmness comes with destiny 
Months I waited to meet
Sieved by spidery nylon net
No floods, no swamp, yard unwet
Cool misty breeze, winkled cheeks pet
Days of drought, soul withered, upset
Burning ground, leaves vexed to death
Feverish, stinky body covered by sweat
Now vitality's reborn, one's lifespan reset
Rain, oh beloved rain
Just a short visit, much did gain
Summer's gone, May is here again
Small kisses, wispy clouds so plain

Let Me Ride

Let me ride the waves of your sea
Corals, turtles and school fish to see
Show me the beauty of your depth
No sufferings of life nor of death
Let me ride the curves of your hill
Where time peacefully stood still
Trees, meadow of grass and flower
Butterflies, bees and birds gather
Let me ride the winds of your sky
Free to fly way above all so high
Sun, moon and stars hanging bright
And fluffy clouds floating so light
Let me ride lines of your poetic words
Strum my heart with nature's chords
Let my mind be where body can't go
Let me ride along your ink as it flow

Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa was born January 14, 1965, in Manila Philippines. She has worked as a retired Language Instructor, interpreter, caregiver, secretary, product promotion employee, and private therapeutic masseur. Her works have been published as poems and short story anthologies in several language translations for e-magazines, monthly magazines, and books; poems for cause anthologies in a Zimbabwean newspaper; a feature article in a Philippine newspaper; and had her works posted on different poetry web and blog sites. She has been writing poems since childhood but started on Facebook only in 2014. For her, Poetry is life and life is poetry. 

Lilian Kunimasa considers herself a student/teacher with the duty to learn, inspire, guide, and motivate others to contribute to changing what is seen as normal into a better world than when she steps into it. She has always considered life as an endless journey, searching for new goals, and challenges and how she can in small ways make a difference in every path she takes. She sees humanity as one family where each one must support the other and considers poets as a voice for Truth in pursuit of Equality and proper Stewardship of nature despite the hindrances of distorted information and traditions.

Poetry from Annie Johnson

Light skinned woman with curly white hair and a floral top.
Annie Johnson
Constant Awareness 

Alone, and my thoughts of you go soaring 
Into the endless blue sky and morning. 
You are the spirit of my days and nights, 
Holy as summer’s green meadows; 
As winter’s icy stillness. 
Your voice falls on my ears, softly 
Like snowflakes touching the ground. 
Your eyes speak love in moments of silence 
And your mouth sends me riots 
Of love songs and poetry from your depths 
Like you’d saved them to spend on me. 
I am consumed by constant awareness of you. 
You live in my soul; you come and go 
In bright flashes of my dream’s longing 
To hold you as close as your breath on my face 
When we open our eyes to the light of morning.

Magic Trails of Youth 

Night pulls a blanket of stars over the earth. 
The forest slumbers in the starlight. 
A wide-eyed owl sits in a tree 
Hooting to keep the night awake. 
In my dreams I wander the mossy paths 
Listening to the tree frogs, my senses 
Tuned to the faintest sounds of the night; 
A snail crossing the path ahead of me; 
Mice breathing under ferns, hiding 
From the sharp eyes of the Owl. 
Raccoons snoring in a hollow tree. 
A Doe and her fawn slurping water 
From a brook that sparkles moonlight 
Like diamonds glittering in the dark. 
Now in my dreams I'm walking 
On all the girlhood trails I’ve known, 
Opening like a misty thoroughfare 
Swirling around my soul, the memory 
Of places the heart remembers, dormant 
From long years on unmarked highways 
Leading to adulthood's brick and mortar life. 
Bricks hold the thoughts and memory 
Of what strife brings to one, past youth; 
Past dreaming and yearning for the softness 
Of a shadowed, whispering yard, lit 
By fireflies and youthful innocence 
Dancing in the magic of girlhood laughter 
Carried on the wind like some distant train whistle 
Flashing through town long after curfew. 
Morning dew greets the waking spirit of reality.

Annie Johnson is 84 years old. She is Shawnee Native American. She has published two, six hundred-page novels and six books of poetry. Annie has won several poetry awards from world poetry organizations including; World Union of Poets; she is a member of World Nations Writers Union; has received the World Institute for Peace award; the World Laureate of Literature from World Nations Writers Union and The William Shakespeare Poetry Award. She received a Certificate and Medal in recognition of the highest literature from International Literary Union for the year 2020, from Ayad Al Baldawi, President of the International Literary Union. She has three children, two grandchildren, and two sons-in-law. Annie played a flute in the Butler University Symphony. She still plays her flute.

Poetry from Kristy Raines

White middle aged woman with reading glasses and very blond straight hair resting her head on her hand.
Kristy Raines

When I Saw You…

Your face..
took the place of the moon.
Be gentle and don't place me in darkness
when I approach.
Sprinkle the stars
on the path that lights my way to you.

Lead me to you!

Your eyes...
became the desert
Where I now wander,
and where the night breeze
keeps me company until I find
your footsteps that lead me
to where you wait.

Wait for me!

Your lips...
were the place
where our love began
Do not keep them from me
They are the wellspring of your
sweet elixir from which I will be sustained,
and the place where the sweet sound of your poems
are kept until they are whispered softly in my ear

Never keep them from me!

Your chest...
hid the the doorway to your heart
where every emotion of love and gentle
touch emerges for me on
and where my hand rests over the beat.
Open your door for me and then quickly lock it
behind me so that no one else can ever enter

Throw away the key!

Your Arms..
held me and are comforting to me
They are strong and warm my body
They wrap around me like a vine
pulling me closer to the firmness of your being
They feel familiar around me

Pull me closer!

Your hands...
felt warm like the sun
They touch me lightly, like the soft feather of a dove
making me tremble deep inside with each caress
At times, they grasp me like a torrent storm
gripping me as tight as handcuffs around my wrists
leaving me breathless and crying out for more

Never let me go!

Your flame..
ignites my sweet dreams at night
which woke the passion inside of me that faded,
Your flame gave light to my soul
It's the fire that keeps my heart throbbing for your touch and
a heat inside that can never be extinguished by any other

Satisfy the yearning inside of me! 


   Meet Poet, Writer, Author and Human Rights Advocate, Kristy Raines, born in Oakland, California, USA.

   Before becoming a poet and writer, Kristy worked as a Legal Assistance Secretary for the Naval Legal Service Office at The Naval Reserve Readiness Command in San Francisco, California. She then later retired from the medical field as a Medical Technician and Office Manager where she worked with and assisted many physicians from different countries and specialties.

   Kristy has several books not yet published. One book of epistolary poems is finished and waiting to launch with a prominent poet from India called, "I Cross my Heart from East to West". She also has two fantasy books of her own called, "Rings, Things and Butterfly Wings" and "Princess and The Lion", and her autobiography called, “My Very Anomalous Life” that she is working on, and  has received many literary awards for her unique style and passionate verses of poetry and short stories.