Betrayed In Exile

They say life is short, and we must enjoy every bit of it. But in my country, life hasn’t given us  a brief moment of peace, and we can only enjoy it by continually losing trust in one another. In the mid-80s, six other soldiers and I were running away from military service. We just wanted to continue our studies and pursue our dreams. On a rainy day, a soldier named Ayman told us about a hidden cart we could discreetly jump into. By then, we hoped to escape the horrors of the war and the threat of being caught, which would lead to the death penalty. Around seven in the morning, we all met at Ayman’s house to gather and drive to the train station. We were crying differently, as if we knew our lives were no longer protected, and that if Ayman made a mistake, we were all dead. The rain covered our faces, making it hard to tell who was crying with tears and who was weeping from a broken heart.

We entered a dark, dusty, and foul-smelling compartment on the train. Just by looking around, I saw blood and animal waste. Ayman asked us to remain silent until the next day, when we would be in a different country. We all fell quiet, some of us lighting cigarettes, while others whispered about the terrible conditions. They knew they had to suppress their hunger and thirst. The hours were slow, long, and unbearably dull. It was terrifying to hear rockets falling around the cities. Some children cried as they watched their grandfathers being dragged from the trains to fight in the war. Those sounds were impossible to ignore—words so heartbreaking that none of us could sleep.

I drifted away into fantasies, thinking about my girlfriend, my siblings, my parents—wondering if they were praying for my safe journey into exile. I wondered if we would ever meet again, if we would even recognize each other. How long would this war last? How many friends’ funerals would I attend before my own? Meanwhile, Ayman smoked like a man possessed, sitting in the corner, staring at all of us. None of us doubted his promise or loyalty—until the rain stopped, and the train halted. Ayman took his weapon from his back and ordered us to stand in line. A few soldiers with guns appeared, ready to shoot us, but it was Ayman who shot us mercilessly.

Yes, we died fearlessly. Yes, we died in this hopeless country. Yes, we died without taking a single life. Ayman smiled, and in that moment, we knew who the leader of our miserable nation will be.

 FOG

my chin remains sullenly close to my chest
as all was dismantled in a wanton promenade of excess,
a foggy return of unsold goods

my mind tilts toward a grief stricken field of burnt hay,
my favorite tree in its midst torched by lightening only a few days before---

I lie with my own weight doubled on top of me, pinioned as a prisoner who has shackled himself,
and the last cloud leaves my lungs---

---I pretend I am hanging for my loss of self,
that I am truly and completely gone,
but really, I am hanging onto the precipice
of something much more looming,
something that I can't possibly as of yet know
---and I am hanging here with what seems to be my lifelessly stiffened fingers
---
but maybe---- 
just maybe----
that is precisely
what the 'seeming' needs to be
---for now

Born in Lubbock, Texas in 1984, AG Davis is a sound poet, author, performance artist and composer who resides in Jacksonville, Florida. Davis began his career as a Division I football recruit, having attended West Point for a brief period of time. After dropping out, he earned his degree in English Literature at the University of Florida (2006). He has written four books of highly experimental poetry, his most recent being published in 2023 through monocle-Lash Anti-Press.

A Letter Written on A Tombstone

Stranger, wait here
Wait for a moment
Once I was like you
My forefather was like you
Now I am here
Many people are here
One day you will come here
Everybody will have to come here
Time will finish everything
It is a unconditional fact
Everybody has to embrace with death
And come here one by one
It is out of the world
The world is not here
Money has no power here
Power is powerless
Politics and politicians can't play games
Landlord can't dominant forcefully 
Nobody can do anything
Caste system has no chance
All are equal 
Because all are dead.
Dead man has no address
The things we need here is good deeds
Only good deeds must help us.
So, please do good deeds as much as possible
Time is knocking at the door
Anytime there will go the bell.

EMBRACE MY SILENCE

Embrace my silence

With your arms of happiness

And wrap my heart

In threads of silk

And don’t let the southern wind

Erase a smile

Of the gifted hope

From the fallen.

Embrace my silence

And you shall hear

A heartbeat

And clatter of longing

In the silence of my infinity.

Embrace my silence

And call me by my name

In this night of suspense

And I shall come

Like a fairy

All in white

To open your eyes,

Which shine

Like burning stars.

Your eyes

Are like white lighthouses

In the fear of my depths.

Your eyes are like eternal diamonds

In the colours

Of glorious life. 

Jasna Gugić was born in Vinkovci, Croatia. She is the Vice-President of the Association of Artists and Writers of the World SAPS; P.L.O.T.S USA the Creative Magazine Ambassador for Croatia, Ambassador in Elite Arab Creative Union of The Royal House – Lebanon, Ambassador of Peace and Peaceful Coexistence – Morocco, Global Ambassador of Literacy and Culture for the Asih Sasami Indonesia Global Writers, and a member of Angeena International, a non-profit organization for peace, humanity, literature, poetry, and culture. She is also co-editor of the anthology, Compassion-Save the World, one poem was written by 130 world poets.

Jasna has published three collections of poems. The first two collections are bilingual: one is Croatian-English and the other is Croatian-Polish. The third collection consists of a single poem translated into sixty languages of the world.

Jasna Gugić is one of the winners of the World Award for Cultural Excellence “César Vallejo” for the year 2020. in the category of culture, awarded by Union Hispanomundial de Escritores (UHE).

She is one of the winners of the World Award for Excellence “Golden Eagle” for the year 2023. in the category of literature, awarded by Union Hispanomundial de Escritores (UHE), in a global alliance with Mil Mentes por Mexico International (MMPMI) and Academia Mundial de Literatura, Historia, Arte y Cultura(AMLHAC) and Global Peace Alliance Award 2023. awarded by Union Hispanomundial de Escritores (UHE) , MIL MENTES por Mexico Internacional, and Academia Mundial de Literatura, Historia, Arte y Cultura(AMLHAC). 

Jasna is a multiple winner of many international awards for poetry and literature and her work has been translated into several world languages. 

She lives and works in Zagreb, Croatia. Her poems have been published in magazines in the USA, Spain, Greece, Italy, Russia, Croatia, India, Syria, Denmark, Brazil, Mexico, Bangladesh, Serbia, Albania, Nigeria, Belgium, China, Chile, Nepal, Pakistan, Korea, Germany, Turkey, etc.

Her poems have been published in so many world-famous print and electronic magazines, journals, websites, blogs, and anthologies like Spillwords Press – USA, P.L.O.T.S. The Creative Magazine – USA, Mad Swirl – USA ,Inspired – USA Raven Cage – USA, Highland Park Poetry – USA, Setu – USA, Ariel Chart – USA, Dissident Voice – USA, World of Myth Magazine – USA, Cocktail Literary Journal –USA, Synchronized Chaos Magazine – USA, Cajun Mutt Press – USA, Word City Literary Journal – USA, Medusa‟s Kitchen – USA, Sage Cigarettes – USA, Fevers of the Mind – USA,  Atunis Galaxy Poetry – Albania /Belgium, Mokasini – Israel, Lothlorien Poetry Journal – UK, Polis Magazino – Greece, Homo Universalis – Greece, Chinese Language Monthly – 中國語文月刊 – China, Active Muse – India,  Eboquills – Nigeria, Azahar Revista Poetica – Spain, Sindh Courier – Pakistan, Magazine Humanity – Russia, Entre Parentesis – Chile, Daily Asia Bani – Bangladesh, Bharat Vision – Denmark, Litterateur Rw, Dritare E Re – Albania, Literary Yard – India, Gazeta Destinacioni – Albania, Newspaper Lissalba – Albania, Alb- Spirit – Albania, Albania Press – Albania, Alessandria Today – Italy, The Moment International News – Germany, Kavya Kishor English – Bangladesh, PETRUŠKA NASTAMBA, an e-magazine for language, literature, and culture – Serbia, Güncel Sanat magazine – Turkey, Cultural Reverence, a global digital journal of art and literature -India, A Too Powerful Word – Serbia, Magazine Ghorsowar – India, Al-Arabi Today Magazine, Magazine Rainbow, Humayuns Editorial – Bangladesh, Himalaya Diary – Nepal and Agarid br. 24 and 16, Online newspaper NewsNjeju, Korea, Willwash. wordpress blogzine – Nigeria.

POSTCARDS FROM THE ROAD : Venezuela

SEARCHING FOR CARACAS

Between mountains & sea, through jungles, along lagoons, over silted rivers. Sometimes that Caribbean just below my sight, just beyond the vine-draped trees.

*   

Long ago the sea disappeared. & now we enter these mountains heavy-green. Along banks of streams, in the folds of land, hand-built homes. Their families sell coconut milk & candies at roadside stands.

            *        *

I am searching for this city. The shantytowns, the industry, the suburbia that always mark the entry of metropolis.

But all I see is this highway through green.

            *        *       *

Finally nearing the center. Traffic jams the highway of this late afternoon. Yes, the stores, the malls, the houses – but still that verdant range.

            *        *       *       *

When will we arrive? We continue going on & on. The canopy of high-rise apartments, skyscrapers & billboards grimed by time towers above the canopy of trees.

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Soon we leave the high rises of Caracas

            & enter the forested high rise of

            the mountains. Misting clouds

            dampen the morning highway. The

bus stereo playa salsas. A passenger

            in back sings along off-key.

We wind towards the Maracay lowlands,

over banana-lined streams, past sugar

cane, through small towns. A white dog

chases another across a field along this

road.

By the time we reach the lower lands, the

            slate-grey clouds shatter the cobalt-blue

            sky & bright sun. Valencia Lake ripples

white-capped, dully, deep-blue-deep-

green in a bowl-valley of the sierra.

From Valencia to Barquisimeto, larger cities

            of this country. Will it be endless urban

            scenery now? Or shall I continue to be

dazzled by those emerald mountains,

that sapphire sky draped with bauxite

clouds, these rushing topaz rivers?

Through small towns, past cattle ranches, past

            chicken farms – & yes, the verdant

            mountains …

SANARE TRIO

At the tip of these Andes, the slopes surrounding Sanare neatly parcel into farms & cafetales. Distant mountains, dryer & rougher, fading to ghostly silhouettes in the warming day.

            *

By noon the clouds are descending. The mountains fall into deep shadows. The aroma of roasting coffee wafts on the fresh breeze.

            *        *

This evening bathed with mist, the sun paints these sierra lands indigo-rose.

My biography

Lorraine Caputo is a wandering troubadour whose writings appear in over 500 journals on six continents, and 24 collections – including In the Jaguar Valley (dancing girl press, 2023) and Santa Marta Ayres (Origami Poems Project, 2024). She also authors travel narratives, articles and guidebooks. Her writing has been honored by the Parliamentary Poet Laureate of Canada (2011) and nominated for the Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize. Caputo has done literary readings from Alaska to the Patagonia. She journeys through Latin America with her faithful knapsack Rocinante, listening to the voices of the pueblos and Earth. Follow her adventures at www.facebook.com/lorrainecaputo.wanderer or http://latinamericawanderer.wordpress.com.

Leda and the Swan by W. B. Yeats

Critically examine the postmodern reading of Leda and the Swan by William Butler Yeats.

(Black and white pencil drawing of a naked human entwined with a winged bird and her egg)

Leda’s virgin femininity is at stake by the perilous encroachment of anthropomorphic Zeus. The masculinized possession upon the staggering girl by caressing her frail thighs symbolizes helplessness. This helplessness manifests emblematic relinquishment of virginity to the amorous conquest of Zeus. Love and war are supposedly antithetical paradoxes and fruits in reproduction of offsprings and therefore vindictive of the polarization between supernatural immortality and mortal beings or bonded and free.. 

Seduction and rape of Leda the Queen of Sparta, by the God of Heavens and King of the Olympics, in disguise of Swan in Greek, mythologizes the fantastical narration of Helen of Troy and the cloned brothers Castor and Pollux.  Orgasm and ejaculation implicates shudder in the loins with impregnation of Leda by Swan while engendering the broken wall, burning roof and tower alike architectural landmarks and milestones. Later this climatic Homeric allusion pontificates toward Agamemnon’s bereavement. Historical cycle of Helen’s and Clytemnestra’s seeds are planted and fertilized by Leda. Rhetorical questions become justifiable with the explanatory statements: “The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?/ But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?” Herein, succumbent of Leda’s virginity to the supremacy of the mightier and loftiest God has been decreed as consummation of sexual gratification. Allegorically  colonial hegemonic culture of England reigning with superpower supremacy over colonized Ireland has been satirically implicated. 

William Butler Yeats examines the consequences of the rape intimating the eventual defeat of Troy and triumph of Greece and the restoration of Western history. These mythic puns and sublime images are a testament to the legacy of Celtic Anglo Irish poetic cult amidst the traumatic outbreak of World War I, inviting readers toward imaginary resistance to oppression. “He holds her helpless breasts upon his breasts” furthermore implicates the political turmoil of historical Irish landscapes as implied metaphorically in Leda’s succumbing to the temptation of Zeus’s busty demeanor. The invasion of Ireland by Britain is allegorically manifested by this dialectic. Yeats revisits mythological fiction through fragmentation of Leda and this case spotlights metaphorical fragmentation of a country, nation, tribe and culture. 

The act of Leda and the Swan is a bright marbled sculpture of apopsiopesis that is constantly resurrected from the microcosmic everyday acts, released from the ravages of delusory time. “Did she put on his knowledge with his power /Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?” These lines succinctly projects the rebellious spirit of the nationalistic freedom movement and the aftereffects of post revolution in accord with the domain of England’s imperial regime. Ireland’s defeminization and emasculation afterthoughts foreshadowed by the rhetorical questions indeed. 

Further Reading

Textual/Sexual Politics in Yeats’s “Leda and the Swan”, William Johnsen, Yeats and Postmodernism, Leonard Orr, Sycrause University Press. 

(Brown clay sculpture of a naked person whose arms and legs are entwined with a winged bird)