A precious man

The nights and the days come and go without a smile
The days are so big without a smile
The nights are a waiting for a call or a message
It is so expensive this time away from your eyes.
You are my precious pearl..
A diamond hide in the mud..
Waiting the time to hug you and kiss you.
You are my treasure hidden from the sun
Waiting the day I meet you again..
Waiting your look..
Waiting your lips..
You are my precious pearl hidden in the oyster deep in the sea.
You are my precious man. 



You,

the face I did not see for years

You,

You are the most amazing human being
But i cannot touch

You,
The beauty is hiding in  small pieces in your body and mind...

You,
I can explain why
But i know my what...

You,
That one day  you crossed my path
  Forces of love or passion touched me
Without reason...

I am looking the east
You are looking the west

Miracles happens every day


You,
A passion I can live in a privately moment

Love I give
Love will never be understood

You,
In an another space of galaxy

You,
My ideal
My secret
Garden

You,
The moments I never had

You
The distance between two countries
A bridge i will try to build to reach you





Good night poem

What a caterpillar maybe call the end
A butterfly call it the beginning of a beautiful journey...

The stars are so far but we can see the lights
And feel their heat

As i am thinking of you
Days and nights are together

No distance
Only sun
Only Moon

And for once they are together
In this beautiful sky

Thinking of you
The days

Think about you
My heart
My body
My soul
Wake up
And
Dance in a circle

Imagine u are here
Imagine u are close to me

Imagine our life starts
This is my wish
My prayer

As you are my hope
My inspiration
In those long years of loneliness...



❤️💐💐💐

Love poem

Your smile... 

I dream a future with you

I dream a blue sky

Sunset to a an island 

I dream a white house

And have a view to the sea 

I dream a future close to you.. 

And i get a bad dream

Sleeping alone

Feeling weak

But in my heart

i am not alone because i feel your heart beat

I feel your breath



EVA Petropoulou Lianou
Multi Awarded Author children literary
Official candidate for Nobel Peace prize 
Greece

Make Believe

i

“Clear a path,” cried Stacy, spreading wide her arms. “Here comes Shamu!” As if by magic, the students in the grade school corridor parted like the Red Sea. Lori, the object of this derision, gritted her teeth and said nothing. She walked past the taunting students, wincing in shame at each smirking face. Some of the children hooted or made other ugly animal sounds.

“Be careful what you say to Shamu,” cautioned Stacy. “She might morph into Carrie!” The girls giggled, and the boys guffawed. Lori passed out of their sight. Stacy smiled contentedly.

ii

“Students,” said Ms. Black, the fifth grade teacher, “today we’re going to get your vital statistics.” The children stared back at her blankly, perplexed.

“I mean,” Ms. Black went on, “that I’m going to measure your height and get your weight.” Lori had a sinking feeling. First, the teacher measured their heights, and that went off without incident, but then came the weighing. The children lined up before the physician’s scales, each taking their turn to step onto the platform while Ms. Black balanced the weights. At length, last in line, Lori stepped on the scale and Stacy didn’t remain idle.

“Hey, Shamu, don’t break the scale,” she barked. Several children chuckled. Lori felt her cheeks burn.

“That’s not polite, Stacy,” scolded Ms. Black. “I mean, how would you like it if…?”

“If I were fat?” Stacy finished the teacher’s sentence.

“Now, that’s enough, students!” Ms. Black spread the guilt over the entire class, inasmuch as Stacy Shelton was the daughter of Bruce Shelton, the superintendent of schools. That made him Ms. Black’s boss. He was known to dote on his daughter. None of the teachers were eager to get her in their class.

As Black maneuvered the weights on the scale, Stacy remarked, “They’ve got a special scale down at the stockyards.” The children erupted in gales of laughter. Even Ms. Black, in spite of herself, chuckled into her fist, then tried to hide it. Lori felt her betrayal keenly.

                                                         iii

At noon, the children scattered for lunch. Although it was a closed campus, Lori ran home, tears of humiliation streaking her eyes. When she arrived, she crept silently through the house and into her father’s den, where she found the gun cabinet, unlocked as usual. Lifting out a heavy, ugly black pistol, she then rummaged through the ammo drawer and extracted a box of bullets she knew would fit the handgun. Her father had instructed her on how to handle firearms safely.

Arriving back in class before the lunchroom let out, Lori sat silently in her seat in the back of the classroom. Students were assigned their seats alphabetically, and Lori felt lucky to be situated in the rear, where she’d garner less notice. Stacy’s keen eye and needling voice always seemed to find her, however. The gun sat hidden under the folds of Lori’s billowing dress.

iv

Finally, students began filing back into the classroom. Stacy, as per usual, was last to enter, making a spectacular entrance, of course, arriving as if onto a stage. The other girls giggled in appreciation. No one dared cross the girl. Lori frowned darkly. She hated that girl! When class commenced, Ms. Black instructed the students in social studies until two o’clock, at which time the children exited the school for the final recess. Lori remained in her seat, the gun cold against her thigh. When class reconvened, Ms. Black told the students there would be a test of their ability to write creative fiction. Pencils were turned up, and blank sheets of paper were passed out. Lori bent to her work, and SNAP! Her pencil broke cleanly in two; she had been pressing on it so hard, in frustration, that she ruined it. That was Lori’s last pencil. She looked up; the teacher had left the room, probably to take another smoke. Everyone else was busily scribbling on their own sheets; besides, no one would help the fat kid. Lori sighed. Then she thought: maybe this is the time to make her move. What did she have to lose?”

Stacy, observing what had transpired with Lori, turned to the girl and said, “Wanna borrow a pencil?” At first, Lori expected her to snatch the pencil out of her reach and taunt her some more. But no. Stacy was serious, and Lori accepted the small token of kindness.

“Thanks,” murmured Lori.

“Sure,” acknowledged the other girl, at last taking pity on her nemesis.

v

By the time Ms. Black collected the papers, the final bell rang, indicating it was time to leave for the day. Soon the classroom was deserted, except for the teacher. Ms. Black rifled through the thirty completed essays and began correcting and grading them. When she came to the last essay, her mouth fell open in surprise. She sat up straight in her chair and murmured, “Oh, my God!”

Here’s what the final essay said:

I almost killed a girl today. She made fun of me one time too many, and I had a gun, and I was going to shoot her dead. My dad taught me how to shoot, and I’m a good shot. But she let me use her pencil when mine broke, so for now she gets to live. This is, naturally, only make-believe fiction, as Ms. Black said.

Lori Belzer

5th Grade

IF I WERE A TREE

If I were a tree
the tree, hidden inside me.
Perhaps a large Mango tree,
all the bird's nests, all the beehives
built inside me;
Bees are flying flowers to flowers
to collect bud nectar.
Birds sing and dance in the branches of flowers.
If I would be a tree
The tree, hidden inside me.
My branches and leaves are umbrellas
that shelter from summer dust and heat.
People sit under the trees
in hot waves of air and humidity.
Like an air cooler, but in a safe way
trees reduce climate misery.
I wish I would be a tree
the tree, hidden inside me.
The rain drops on my leaves
the insect hides below to flee.
The sparrows are bathing feathers are falling
like a paratrooper swinging in the air.
In the beehive, the queen came out from her chamber
Her Majesty bath in the tender;
the rainwater flashing through the root
The ants are climbing to reach the bark
Beneath the bark, there are colonies of troops.
I wish I could be a tree
the tree, hidden inside me.
My fruits are sweet and sour
with green, golden and red cores.
Flavour and freshness,
mind-blowing fragrance.
It's beauty and happiness
It's courage and kindness! 
I wish I would be a tree
the tree, hidden inside me.


 
THE BLUE MIMOSA
 
I had seen,
the blue Mimosa trees in blossoms
and was overwhelmed by its beauty
but I don’t know its name.
You’re talking about it,
when the season of flower is gone.
And; when you come to my life
I noticed in your eyes,
the season has gone again.
This time, the season of love.
Because-
you were in enormous pain
for your past.

 

ANOTHER TRY

Sometimes,
I am not afraid of life
nor afraid of death.
But I think, 
what will happen 
after our death.
Will there someone waiting for you
someone else will be mine
or will we become dust
or a molecule with an endless life.
How far we will travel
how many galaxies 
how many stars
will you read my poems
when I will be the universal traveler.
Shall I feel this loneliness while
traveling star after star.
I want this human life back
with another try.
You will sit with me
I will sit beside.
And that will be time for our divine love
without endless cry. 


THE SUNSET IN NAGARKOT HILLS

I am standing with a friend
yet I am alone
and thinking about you.
The sun is setting in the west
of Nagarkot hills.
Twilight is visible at skyline
clouds kiss the forest greens.
Birds and insects are making noisy sounds
evening temperature is getting chilled.
fogs and clouds are flying like soft cottons
and I am alone
with many people.
Most tourist couple have already left,
how unlucky they are
those did not kiss each other
in this foggy mountain evening. 


IF YOU CALL ME

Distance creates disappearance
time kills memories.
The world is a small village
but we are from two countries.
Two different races, religion
and ethnicity.

If you call me,
I will fly like an eagle
if you call me
I will try like an ant.
if you call me
I will love you like a human
giving up the obsession.
If you call me
I will build a home;
our two bodies
will become one
with the love of the divine.

so, please call me
please call me back
let’s be you are mine
I am yours
let’s fulfill this human life. 


SOLITUDE

Here,
I have no family
no country
no beloved
yet, I hold the entire
universe in my heart. 
-alone and lonely. 



THOSE TWO EYES

I have fought
in so many difficulties
yet, I lost
in front of those two eyes.  



Tareq Samin is an Author, Human Rights Activist and Social Entrepreneur. He is the editor of the bilingual literary journal Sahitto. He has authored ten books. His poems have been translated in more than 25 languages of which  English, Spanish, Chinese, German, French, Italian are few to mention. His poems, short stories and articles have also published in more than 40 countries.

Tareq Samin received the ‘International Best Poets Award-2020’ from The International Poetry Translation And Research Centre (IPTRC), China and the Greek Academy of Arts and Writing. He has been awarded ‘Honorable Mention’ in Foreign Language Authors category for his poem ‘Another Try’ in ‘The prize il Meleto di Guido Gozzano Agliè’ poetry competition held on 12 September 2020 in Turin, Italy. In July 2021 he won Naji Naaman Literary Prize 2021.

Tareq Samin is a former fellow of Martin-Roth-Initiative Scholarship. The Martin Roth-Initiative is a joint program of ifa (Institut für Auslandsbeziehungen) and the Goethe-Institut. As a Martin-Roth-Initiative Scholarship fellow he was a guest writer in Goethe-Institut, Kolkata, India, and Kathmandu, Nepal. 
In 2021, he was an International guest writer in Château de Lavigny International writers-in-residence, Switzerland.

In 2023, he has been selected for Hungarian writers-in-residence. Also he has been nominated for the Oak Institute for Human Rights. 

CREATING AN ESTATE OF HAPPINESS FOR YOURSELF 

						-Dr. Jernail S. Anand


Those who love silver and crave for gold
Will say one day, we have committed suicide.
-	Kaifi Azmi

The men of business in olden times would write on their 'Gullaks' (chests)  would write ‘Shubh Labh’ (Just Profit). Those times when people were not so ambitious for personal growth, were better times, because the general tone of society was that of goodness, kindness, and an all pervading sense of mutual understanding and love for humanity. 

PROFIT JUST OR UNJUST 

Profit is fine, but how can it be ‘Shubh’ [Just]? Who knows the difference between Shubh and Ashubh [Just and Unjust]? If the business is carried out with just practices, it gives joy. But when we resort to unjust practices to maximize profits, it spreads  pain.  As most of the people are after unjust profits, as widespread is the incidence of pain. Pain is symptomatic of some abnormality in the body. And when it remains  untreated over years,  it gives rise to chronic ailments. We are all afflicted with a malaise: psycho-spiritual sickness. We are running after wealth and in the pursuit, lose the joy of living. At the same time, we push thousands below the poverty line with our indiscrete actions aimed at self-promotion.

FAIR IS FOUL: THE ZONE OF THE UNDESIRABLE 

	Fair is foul, foul is fair, 
	hover through fog and filthy air".  

Macbeth's witches make a great statement. The civilization represents the ‘fair’ which the witches declare as ‘foul’.  For ordinary intelligence, it is difficult to distinguish between Right and Not Right. People doing ordinary jobs and living somehow, don’t even realize when they have stepped into the Zone of the Undesirable. But the essential question is: Even if they know, will they stop?  The entire populace is busy in making fast buck. Some lose their scruples when life is too hard on them. And some, on whom luck has smiled,  think why we should look back? 

LOVE AND WAR

Love is a sacred emotion, yet people believe that everything is fair in love and war. ‘Tam sam dand bhed’ are the words oft repeated by men who have no scruples. Men, in general,  are bound by a sense of the moral and the immoral, but we take the first opportunity to override these considerations. It has to be noted that men in general hold on to principles. But there is only one variety of people who lack all scruples. It is the politicians. For whom, every day is an undeclared war, which must be won.  So, principles are a suicidal passion for a politician. Those who use uneven methods to win their love, too are never forgiven by gods who are closely monitoring our conduct. Have we seen any politician dying an enviable death, except in case of a few, who acted as statesmen, and upheld their principles? In love too, if we miss the moral mark, all unions fizzle out leaving behind a family on the rocks.

THE RIGHT CONDUCT

Friends who are well endowed often ask: what is bad in making money? One of them deals in shares. If they rise, what is wrong in it? Some have invested their money in real estate from where they get interest on their wealth. The question is: what is unethical about it. Further on, if you start an industry, and if gods are kind and it starts prospering, what is wrong in it? Is ambition an unethical passion? Can we stop people from growing up? 

These are scorching questions. We cannot stop people from starting their business, and everyone wants that the business should prosper. In the same way, the man of the stock market too cannot be faulted if he gets a fortune by a rise in the value of his shares. 

The basic issue here is: Do you want happiness? Or you simply want Wealth?

If your preference is for Wealth, then all your pursuits are justified. But don’t blame gods if your son develops some problem, or your daughter elopes with someone. Your wife can have asthma. And you too can have blood pressure. You may have to visit a heart surgeon, to get a stent. Wealth brings in its train all these unceremonious things. If you have too much of it, one of your sons may decide to get rid of you and grab the entire wealth you have created. Anything can be expected from jealous gods. You are entirely innocent. There is nothing wrong in making fast buck. Millions have been making millions. And you can hear the high voices of celebrations from across the continents. Men of success, enjoying the fruits of their labour. 

However, if Happiness is your passion, then, it all depends on how you use your wealth. If you are a man of business, let me take you back to the beginning of this article. Remember ‘Shubh Labh’. Every penny that you earn should be through ‘just’ means. If gods are kind and bless you with wealth, you can share it with those who need it. It will make the cosmic forces happy. And this happiness will reflect in your eyes, on your forehead, and in your body language. Look at the body language of those who died for the country. S. Bhagat Singh, Lala Hardyal. And  look at the body language of our great money makers who have their wealth in Swiss banks.  It is all a matter of choice. Happiness or Wealth- both cannot be put together, unless you have a mind trained in cosmic sympathy, and you possess the power to part with your wealth so that you can create an estate of happiness for yourself.  

The final word is: Think of your happiness, and create as much wealth  as much as you can, but make sure, it does not make anyone poor. If it can uplift others also, it is an act of goodness, and loved by gods. 



Dr Jernail Singh Anand, President of the International Academy of Ethics, is author of 161 books in English poetry, fiction, non-fiction, philosophy and spirituality. He was awarded Charter of Morava, the great Award by Serbian Writers Association, Belgrade and his name was engraved on the Poets’ Rock in Serbia. The Academy of Arts and philosophical Sciences of Bari  [Italy] honoured him with the award of an Honourable Academic.  Recently, he was awarded Doctor of Philosophy [Honoris Causa] by the University of Engg and Management, Jaipur. Recently, he organized an International Conference on Contemporary Ethics at Chandigarh. His most phenomenal book is Lustus:The Prince of Darkness [first epic of the Mahkaal Trilogy]. [Email: anandjs55@yahoo.com Mobile: 919876652401[Whatsapp]

Link Bibliography:
https://atunispoetry.com/2023/12/08/indian-author-dr-jernail-s-anand-honoured-at-the-60th-belgrade-international-meeting-of-writers/

UZBEKISTAN – MY HOMELAND

The homeland is a place our ancestors deemed sacred, where our descendants guard like the apple of their eye, where our umbilical cord blood was shed. The homeland is the place everyone sees when they first open their eyes, sincerely loves, cherishes, and where they were born and raised.

Everyone loves their homeland; when they think of it, their home, family, relatives, and friends come to mind. That’s why we all strive to do everything good for our country, for its flourishing and peaceful life. The homeland is, first and foremost, our people. They are kind, generous, humane, good-hearted, and hardworking. Our people have always been close, friendly with each other. Their respect for one another is boundless, making them one of the most hospitable nations. It hosts historical sites like Samarkand, Bukhara, Khorezm, and Termez, welcoming numerous travelers every year.

I read what the writers wrote,
The poems my poets composed.
But I couldn't find a place as beautiful
As the descriptions of my Uzbekistan.

Our sky is clear, our water and air are pure, our nature is beautiful. There are all conditions for young children to attend kindergartens and schools, for youth to study for bachelor's and master's degrees, and for everyone to work independently and conduct research. The education and employment of women, and the provision of pensions to the elderly are monitored. There are many places for education, medical treatment, rest, and cultural relaxation.

Early in the morning, we see our hardworking people baking fresh bread in the tandoor, sprinkling and sweeping the streets and yards, and the work in the fields has already begun. We also witness birds singing their "song of happiness." Some are preparing for school, some for work, others for the market or guests. During this time, we meet and greet our close relatives, ask about their well-being. We help schoolchildren and our elderly grandparents cross the road. If we are in a car, we try to give way to people and other vehicles. Whether at work, in educational institutions, or wherever we are, we find the desire within ourselves to spread good cheer and treat others well.

In the family, everyone feels very happy. With the closest people around – parents, siblings, spouses, and children – life becomes even more joyful. The father is the pillar of the family, strong and robust, providing sufficient funds and conditions for the family. The mother mainly deals with child-rearing, household chores, and her professional activities. Children, surrounded by loving people in a peaceful homeland, study and strive, becoming individuals who will benefit our country in the future.  


  In conclusion, when we speak of the homeland, everyone envisions their motherland. We are proud to be born in such a paradise-like, beautiful, peaceful, and kind homeland. Just as everyone loves their mother more than any other woman, people love their homeland more than any other country. Wherever one is born, that place is dear and sacred. There is no place as blessed as the threshold of the homeland. There is only one motherland, and the love for it is unique.  


Marjona Jo'rayeva was born on October 18, 2003, in the Termiz district of Surxondaryo region. She is currently a second-year student at the Faculty of Philology of the Termiz State Pedagogical Institute, specializing in Uzbek language and literature education.

Seashell and Falcon’s Feather


Leaning against the sky full of glittering stars,
I crack the nifty puzzles of wonderous rhymes-
And a cluster of homes where I live sleep in silence,
To allow my quill to pray for God and chant hymns!
Lewd sunrays pierce innocent but joyful bleeding dawn,
And the daylight ploughs through my sparkling mind-
While I weave miracles of benumbing wills on my quills,
And gain applause from global readers, front and behind!

Strain of endless hope bonds with light of peace in silence,
And the old shafts of fear or hate reaches the spear of love-
Such rhythm never ends, and mighty God always sends,
The rejoicing moments for a few from His abode above!
Beauty of spendthrift hours spent on Earth bravely shows,
Life is one-act-play, on mud-hut clay, or a perilous feline sea-
But always ready to grapple or swoop down to play with claw,
And becomes breathless to lock or unlock the happiness key!

The secrets of my witless mind now deal with lusty hours,
Pounded by the wordless things with a miraculous power-
And swiftly makes me rise to dive in the ocean of rhymes, 
To tame the throbs with crack of a whip from ivory tower!
I still know not why God sent me to Earth, politically incorrect, 
May be to collect the seashell and falcon’s feather or drink wine-
But the shifting weather of the world taught me to learn.
Slouching dwarf, ranting priest, and occasionally whine!! 

Hillol Ray, D.Litt., Ph.D. (Doctor of Humanity), D.Phil. (Theology), Ph.D. (Honoris Causa), D.Phil. (Nigeria), D.Litt. (Morocco), Poet Laureate, Author, Translator, is an Environmental Engineer with the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) in Dallas, Texas. He is listed in Who’s Who in Asian-Americans, Marquis Who’s Who in America, Who’s Who in Science and Engineering, and Who’s Who in the World.    His books “Wings of Time”, “Metamorphic Portrait” (Amazon. Com) -recently released.


Web Links:
https://bwesner.wixsite.com/hillolraypoetry 
https://bwesner.wixsite.com/hillolraypoetry/e 
https://bwesner.wixsite.com/awards-2016-to-2030

 FELLOW TRAVELLER!

I listen to words I never uttered 
And collect dreams sans reasons
Know not who the evil eyes are
Find nowhere to stand and stare
Go on walking away from you
The pain takes more space now 
A silent witness to all this I am
Our realm seems quite absurd
My emotions inexpensive too
Nothing comforts me at this state
My shadow my only fellow traveller
Past like a hurricane troubles me.



 HAPPY WORLD OF LOVE!

Sometimes I feel your heart's call
While thinking about you in silence 
My desires get shattered in no time
What should I do with the reverie 
And the musing away from you
The cruel world seems falling on me
The storm that has ravaged dreams
Was intensely violent for sure
The happy world of love is lost now
Tell where I should go without you .



 WHEN HOPE ENDS!

Nothing is there in our body 
But the cover of painful soul
And in pain I look for pure love
This very wish has spoiled me
I 've lost everything all my way
Your intention did plunder me 
You separated me from your life
You never cherished my being
When hope ends ,my day ends
I exist with the end of my life
For nothing will remain there
Except my sobbing painful soul.



 NO LONGER IN YOUR WORLD!

It's been a year since we fell in love
Both ways was it but one sided now
Our dreams are yet to be fulfilled
The world has disowned me in toto
Your shadow has separated me
I am no longer in your world
The moon and stars upset with me
Even the sky is with me no more
Shocked me, away from my Heart
If it is God's will, I've no complaints
I've prayed thousand times for you.



Dr. Prasana Kumar Dalai (DOB 07/06/1973) is a passionate Indian Author-cum- bilingual poet while a tremendous lecturer of English by profession in the Ganjam district of Odisha. He is an accomplished source of inspiration for young generation of India .His free verse on Romantic and melancholic poems appreciated by everyone. He belongs to a small typical village Nandiagada of Ganjam District, the state of Odisha.After schooling he studied intermediate and Graduated In Kabisurjya Baladev vigyan Mahavidyalaya then M A in English from Berhampur University PhD in language and literature and D.litt from Colombian poetic house from South America.

He promotes his specific writings around the world literature and trades with multiple stems that are related to current issues based on his observation and experiences that needs urgent attention. He is an award winning writer who has achieved various laurels from the circle of writing worldwide. His free verse poems not only inspires young readers but also the ready of current time. His poetic symbol is right now inspiring others, some of which are appreciated by laurels of India and across the world. Many of his poems been translated in different Indian languages and got global appreciation. Lots of well wishes for his upcoming writings and success in the future. He is an award winning poet author of many best seller books.

Recently he is awarded Rabindra nath Tagore and Gujarat Sahitya Academy for the year 2022 from Motivational Strips . A gold medal from world union of poets France & winner Of Rahim Karims world literary prize 2023.The government of Odisha Higher Education Department appointed him as a president to Governing body of Padmashree Dr. Ghanashyam Mishra Sanskrit Degree College, Kabisurjyanagar. Winner of " HYPERPOEM " GUNIESS WORLD RECORD 2023. Recently he was awarded from SABDA literary Festival at Assam. Highest literary honour from Peru contributing world literature 2024.Prestigious Cesar Vellejo award 2024

Completed 200 Epistolary poems with American poet Kristy Raines.
Books.
1.Psalm of the Soul.
2.Rise of New Dawn.
3.secret Of Torment.
4.Everything I never told you.
5.Vision Of Life National Library Kolkata.
6.100 Shadows of Dream.
7.Timeless Anguish.
8.Voice of Silence.
9.I cross my heart from east to west . Epistolary poetry with Kristy Raines