there is no silence in a men’s homeless shelter . . . late-night cough chorus — today marks ninety days at the homeless shelter . . . misophonia — downtown skyline through the shelter’s dock door window— men snore in the night — today marks five months here at the homeless shelter . . . let’s just sleep all day — purple foam earplugs . . . the shelter at midnight is almost dead silent — bio/graf J. D. Nelson is the author of ten print chapbooks and e-books of poetry, including *Cinderella City* (The Red Ceilings Press, 2012). 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 Colorado, USA
Monthly Archives: November 2023
Poetry from Ali Sony
My Father My father is my world. He loves me, mother and my sister very much. He is my father, friend and teacher. If there is a mistake, he rules over As well as there is a lot of love Also teaching hidden between this rule. Ali Sony is a student of grade 7 in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
Poetry from Abdullah Al-Mamun
My best friend You are my best friend, You are very kind. You gave me joy, And peace of mind. You are my best friend, We play and share. You are very nice, True and fair. You are helper, And very nice. You are my friend. Abdullah Al Mamun is a student of grade 7 in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
Poetry from Mahbub Alam
The Play of Politics Is politics only a play or game? A play between a snake and a weasel Or a tiger and a deer The ruling and the opposition party A continuous process over time and place A struggle for power and pelf In the name of democracy, the commoners cheated But who wins the race? Nature - set up with its own beauty and style We cannot but charm to look at the sight It is the twenty four hours round system On the other side What do we do for democracy? After a long line of death, a government takes place System built, system violated In this dire situation, so much blood shed The experiences we gather break the heart Time opens its gate for some Time takes some confined to bed Politics runs with the toes of tigers or lions Lambs and deer run so fast to escape. Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh 28 October, 2023 Flash Flood and Firing It was no rainfall last year here Too hot in the summer in this year than so many years last Nowadays it scarcely rains in the rainy season When it rains, rains days together As the meteor shower in the atmosphere at the clear night sky The warmth makes the body of the earth sometimes imbalanced It burns somewhere in the forest The animals turn into like the burning coal in the fireplace Again flash flood without any precaution Inundates the homes and the croplands for sudden rainfall Or melting the iceberg leaving hundreds and thousands of people In hunger, suffering from many diseases How can we protect the world from being destroyed day by day? Though so many meetings are called every year Is there any result? Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh 29 October, 2023
Poetry from Wazed Abdullah
The Music In melodies of life, music's sweet embrace, The universal language, a boundless space. Notes weave stories, emotions they convey, In rhythm and rhyme, hearts find their own way. From symphonies grand to a songbird's sweet trill, Music's magic in silence, it can instill. With every chord played, a world comes alive, In eight simple lines, its power we derive. Wazed Abdullah is a student of grade 8 in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
Poetry from Manzar Alam
Hope in hopelessness Souls are craving to breath in air a little fresh. But the air is polluted By the smoke of injustice Unruliness, suppression and lie. How can we inhale The breeze of the morn and the eve? The wind is giving the smell of rotten things Then how can we breathe and how can we live? Illegal power, money and wealth Are killing humanity and human rights. The present world is experiencing silently the all. Musclemen are amassing wealth Depriving downtrodden, middleclass and the poor as well. And the right of the people crying in vain. But amidst this hopelessness there is a hope With great Shelley can’t we say ‘If winter comes can spring be far behind?’ Surely, surely the spring will come Demolishing injustice, deprivation and lie. (Manzar Alam from Bangladesh. By profession I am a college teacher.)
Poetry from Monira Mahbub
It's My Country My country is Bangladesh Filled with flowers and fruits With folk songs and cottage industries Green color and freshness Spread the green glow across the fields With its thousands of rivers and lakes This is my country-Bangladesh. 29 October, 2023 Monira Mahbub is a student of grade 6 in Nawabganj Government Girls' High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.