Heart. Because of you, misfortunes have no end, Where you are, danger lies close or distant. Cast away deceit, turn back and repent, For on Judgment Day, there will be questions to answer.
I envy those without a heart, They don’t burn, don’t love, and don’t even die. How can they? For they have no heart. But me? I have a thousand hearts… Yet still, something feels incomplete.
Some have hearts, but they’re lifeless, dead, Even if torn apart, no blood would be shed. Inside them, parasites hum their tune, Even a dog wouldn’t eat what’s thrown to it soon.
Are there such people in life, I wonder? Yes. Don’t you see? Look closer, further. Those who sell conscience and homeland for gold, With no compassion, their hearts are cold.
The heart — a delicate, unique creation, It cannot be left unguarded, not for a moment. Close your eyes briefly, and it might be led astray, Even by desires for the unworthy in the fray.
Shoxijahon Urunov — student of Bukhara State Pedagogical Institute
The Best Poem
The most efficient way to write a poem
Is to find another poem and take out the heart.
Leave the other poem where you found it bleeding out.
If it were efficient it would have survived
like the catfish deserting a sinking ship.
After it has sunk, they crawl about the bottom
chewing on the rats and the hands
that didn’t get out.
That is natural selection.
The best poems are the poems that are here.
They persevere through merit.
They go to Burning Man to find more truth.
Shelley has built a Byronic hedge fund
of virtue and innovation.
It stands naked and peeing in the night of wisdom.
And where its urine spatters test scores rise
like manly locks shaking in the storm of cost benefit analysis.
This is the poem that ate your heart.
This is the poem whose heart was eaten.
We need less blood and more Human Resources
if we are to go into the dark of genius
and emerge with the light of anthology.
Even when refurbished to incorporate beautiful en-
suites or worn with denim for a smart casual style
property derived from things from nature is a step back in time.
The Bull Moose Convention
at Chicago is the successful result of the praxis of a fused group, unlike the states of antiquity & the great tangle of Marxist thought. It is a complex & powerful reiteration construct, its symbols fashioned from a bicycle seat & a set of corroded handle-bars with minimalist turn signals, its own words of power based upon the repetition of a handful of major triads, its rituals aligned with the cycles of withdrawal & return in morphine-dependent mice.
Seeking meaningful employment
The meatless meal was really professional & serious, a combination of heuristic procedures, anything but boring. The
dislike was the algorithm
it produced, a nested
while-loop which included three inner loops, crispy on the outside, soggy within.
Tax credit for home buyers
We’re always getting lack- luster troubadours. What I want is an offensive magician who can, by exploiting luminescence spectroscopy, turn late afternoon tea & scone parties into a world tour by Gogol Bordello.
Because when i opened my eyes, dead bodies exist everywhere
No schools
No home
No toys
I keep my eyes closed
I live peacefully
Eva Petropoulou Lianou
Ashok Kumar
Critical Appreciation: “Peace, Prayers for a Peaceful World” by Eva Petropoulou Lianou
In the realm of contemporary poetry, Eva Petropoulou Lianou’s “Peace, Prayers for a Peaceful World” stands as a powerful and poignant masterpiece that pierces the heart and soul of humanity. This poem is a profound exploration of the human experience, delving into the complexities of war, violence, and the longing for peace.
The poem’s central theme of the speaker’s dream of a peaceful world is a powerful metaphor for the universal human aspiration for harmony and tranquility. Lianou’s lines, “I dreamt about it / I closed my eyes years ago / I saw children playing with dolls,” create a vivid image of a world where innocence and joy reign supreme. However, the speaker’s reluctance to open their eyes, “Because when I opened my eyes, / dead bodies exist everywhere,” is a heart-wrenching reminder of the harsh realities of war and violence.
One of the most impressive aspects of this poem is its use of imagery and symbolism. The image of children playing with dolls is a particularly striking one, highlighting the ways in which war and violence destroy the innocence and joy of childhood. The contrast between the peaceful world of the speaker’s dream and the harsh reality of war is also noteworthy, underscoring the ways in which violence can shatter our hopes and dreams.
The poem’s themes of peace, war, and the human condition are equally compelling. Lianou’s lines, “No schools / No home / No toys,” speak to the ways in which war and violence can destroy the very fabric of our lives, leaving us without the basic necessities of human existence. The speaker’s decision to keep their eyes closed, “I keep my eyes closed / I leave peacefully,” is a poignant reminder of the ways in which we often try to escape the harsh realities of the world around us.
Throughout the poem, Lianou’s voice is characterized by its lyricism, depth, and emotional resonance. The poem’s message is both timely and timeless, speaking to the universal human aspirations for peace, harmony, and tranquility that transcend borders, cultures, and generations.
In conclusion, “Peace, Prayers for a Peaceful World” is a masterpiece of contemporary poetry that deserves to be widely read and studied. Eva Petropoulou Lianou’s poem is a powerful exploration of the human experience, peace, war, and the longing for a better world, and its themes of hope, resilience, and the human condition will resonate with readers long after they finish reading.
India BHARAT
January 24, 2025
Dr Ashok Kumar from Baraut BAGHPAT UP INDIA BHARAT
Two dogs ran in front of the SUV ahead and the lab took it viciously to its side at 50 MPH. There was an ugly thud and then the dog’s hideous screaming. The SUV stopped hard while the lab struggled to right itself, side ripped open, intestines pouring out. That driver then went unthinkable, cluelessly backing up over the dog as I honked and honked. Right then I wanted to kill that driver. ‘Cept it could have been me or anyone and I knew it.
The slashed-up dog dragged itself to the side of the road and tried to throw itself into the bushes. Why’d I’d leave my snub-nose home? The dog wouldn’t recover, wouldn’t live. I didn’t want it to suffer, but what to do? If I went back, grabbed my piece and ended things, I’d be “saving” the dog but what trouble awaited if anyone misunderstood? Nix legal troubles! But if I drove off, how long would it suffer? If I tried to forget things, I’d be a bastard and even more tortured. But doing nothing? Frozen there stuck in a dog paradox equation.
I decided to…
No, instead I called Sandi and cried like a goddamned baby.
Scott C. Holstad has authored 60+ books & has appeared in the Minnesota Review, Exquisite Corpse, Pacific Review, Long Shot, Wormwood Review, Chiron Review, Santa Clara Review, Southern Review, Haight-Ashbury Literary Journal, Kerouac Connection, Processed World, Dream International Quarterly, Sivullinen,Nidergasse, Gangan Verlag,Ginosko Literary Journal, Ink Sweat & Tears, Hidden Peak Press, Mad Swirl, Bristol Noir, PULP & Poetry Ireland Review. He holds degrees from the University of Tennessee, California State University Long Beach, UCLA & Queens University of Charlotte. He’s moved 35+ times & currently lives near Gettysburg PA.
BHARAT