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

Choke 

Sometimes, I get that pain again

Choke with deeply desired gain

Drown helpless under torrid rain

Life shackled, mind empty drain

You care much, heart’s in strain

Offer heaven, but hands in chain

Filled up to squeezing tight brain

Forget the balance you did train

Wishing power not just for vain

The love for family is the main

Resetting desire to normal plain

Release, reality again explain.

Fidelity

Fiery red droplets of your blood

See how they warm my frozen heart

On the Greek’s golden fleece, they flood

Passions never to fall apart

Beelzebub has curdled your blood

Death and Chaos have torn your heart

The golden fleece, dark clouds did flood

Misery’s broken us apart

Let Courage flow free in your blood

Let Love reside inside your heart

Let Hope drown your despair in flood

Let Trust reunite what’s apart

Fiery red droplets of my blood

See how they heal your broken heart

Siris’ juice, Zeus’ feast shall flood Jericho’s wall, we tore apart

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 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

The Entity

Give me a love sight

I’ll give you my world

You can build your love generation

Without any brick our love castle is magnetic 

As the two exiting northern and southern hemisphere

Our emblazing heart will sleep in peace for years in grave

When we will get up again, life’s another chapter will begin.

Give me your sweet laugh 

We discover the forever green atmosphere  

The leaves swing in the breeze by the river

Life is a bond

The entity of two makes one.

People dream for making a place in Mars 

It needs force to encounter the gravitation

We go forward leaving all the wastes behind

 From one to another planet

Our blink for the same mirror 

Nothing can smash the glass to look into the broken frame.

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh

12 June, 2025.

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 the 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 Dibyangana

Before the Final March

Dear Love,

The stars shine too brightly here tonight—

just like they did the night we met.

The sky is calm, almost too calm,

as if it’s holding its breath for the storm to barge in.

And yet I lie here in the open,

savouring the silence for the first… and maybe the last time,

wishing you were beside me.

Life never seemed so precious until today.

We received word—we might not win.

Still, I promise you:

we’ll give it our all, even if it means giving up our lives.

And yet, the air doesn’t feel heavy.

Maybe it’s because I’m too light.

I may not live to see tomorrow’s night.

So, forgive me for spending every last precious second thinking of you—

so close in my heart, yet so far in reach.

Are you awake now?

Are you under the same sky,

looking at the stars the way I’m looking through them—searching for you?

I wish I’d memorized you better.

Your soft brown waves, how they used to fall across your eyes,

the way your laughter lingered on your lips after I kissed you—

those are the only things I’ll carry with me,

beyond the end.

Funny how I’ve bled in battle,

but nothing hurts like bleeding on paper.

But this—this letter—is my soul, laid bare for you.

Be strong, my darling.

Even when I’m gone, I’ll live in these folded lines,

watching from the stars,

guarding your smile.

It’s raining now.

Does time ever feel guilty for all it steals from us?

Maybe even the sky wants me to say goodbye.

If there is a life after this,

I’ll find you—I promise.

And I’ll spend forever making up for this stolen time.

Take care of my better half—

I’m leaving it with you.

I will always be close.

Always.

Adieu, love.

The tears that stain this page—

they are the only ones I’ve ever shed.

Not from sorrow…

but from joy—

that I had you, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Yours always,

One Man Army

The Girl Who Never Died

The grey sky wept louder than any crowds ever could.

A blackened coffin lay still beneath the withering roses.

No one mourns her but silence itself — the only one who ever knew her.

I stand by the grave, a stranger in my own story.

The girl in the coffin looks like me — only softer, calmer, stilled.

A shroud of sorrow, regrets, and betrayals hugs her tight.

I weep without tears — trust me, she’s done it all her life.

Her eulogy speaks of dreams made of broken, bloodied wings.

How do you mourn someone who still breathes beneath your skin?

She never asked for much — only to be seen, loved, and understood.

In return, she gave it all: her softest heart, its steady beats made of trust,

hope, empathy, and so much more.

But they cracked her open like porcelain —

her shattered pieces bled until there was no more.

Yet her smile never faltered…

until the world quietly erased it too.

So I bury her with every ‘sorry’ I never received.

I know she forgave — until she forgot herself completely.

Her eyes remain open wide with trust.

Mine — hollow.

I reach for my past self’s hand — one last time,

as a flower blooms, sealing wounds that once gaped wide.

The Earth closes above her… and I open within.

She died unknown, unheard —

but I rise from her ashes, stronger than ever.

“I won’t forget you,

but I will not become you again.

Rest now, far from pain.”

That’s all I say,

before I walk away.

Where Silence Begins

The days slipped by—slowly, steadily,

like raindrops tracing forgotten paths down a glass,

and all I could do was watch.

Time, silent and sharp as frost,

unfurled its shadowed wings,

stealing all I held close—

moments, faces, laughter lost to wind—

until nothing remained

but this hollow ache.

Empty.

Alone.

Afraid.

I don’t fight anymore.

I am tired—bone-deep, soul-worn tired.

Weary, like the moon, hollowed by sleepless nights.

Maybe…

it’s time for rest.

Not sleep, but something softer—

eternal, gentle rest.

So—adieu, my dearests, my darlings.

This is not where the story ends.

We will meet again,

somewhere beyond the bend of time,

where stardust sings and silence cradles the broken whole.

But for now,

I must go.

Time beckons like a tide that will not wait.

Let not your tears fall for me—

they ache deeper than you know,

like salt on an open wound.

As I sail toward the golden light,

a hush fills the sky.

I turn for one last glance—

the world a blur through tear-stained lashes—

and bless them

with all I have left—

and more.

“Goodbye,” I whisper,

as my hand slips from theirs…

And I drift—

not falling, not flying—

just fading,

into the abyss.

Unknown.

Unspoken.

Unheard.

But never… unloved.

Poetry from Christopher Bernard

The Value of a Life

. . . the wellsprings of creative phantasy 
which make life worth living.— Anthony Storr

What makes it worth the mocking 
of what you cannot have,
the fog of what you cannot know,
the mortality of what you love,
the meanness of humanity?

Many say “Love”
but do not believe it.
Others say “God”;
few become saints.
Some say “Humankind,”
but they litter history with corpses.

Then someone gives it a name,
and it shines bright above you,
a lamp of enamel and gold.
Or, far away, it sings,

drawing you down a nave
toward the shadows
of the choir, the carved 
panels above the sanctuary
and the tomb of your fathers.

It is a fairy tale 
you tell yourself in the night
against the treacherous body, 
a broken bell that coughs like a patient
warning you of questions you cannot answer,

against the night flies dancing in the beam
of a weak flashlight
as you walk, from darkness
through darkness toward darkness,
toward a point of light small as a star in the black woods.

_____

Christopher Bernard’s book The Socialist’s Garden of Verses won a PEN Oakland Josephine Miles Award and was named one of the “Top 100 Indie Books of 2021” by Kirkus Reviews.

Essay from Marjona Mardonova

The souls of the Jadids are eternally in our hearts 

Mardonova Marjona Muhsin kizi

Student of Polytechnic No. 1

Tel number:998-94-326-58-50

Abstract:

This article talks about the selfless Jadids who fought for the people, showed that science is an important factor, and raised the flag of the homeland to the skies. Who are the Jadids themselves? What did they do? Why are they called Jadids? These questions are not relevant for the Uzbek people, because the people of Uzbekistan highly respect their ancestors. The bravery and heroism they did in our past are immortalized in epic books in different languages. It is not difficult to learn from their lives that the Jadids would not have survived even death for the homeland during their lives. Most Jadids died early from this life, while some faced death in the very prime of their lives. But they died early not from death, but for the foundation of the homeland. Of course, these terrible events can shake the human heart, but we must understand that they wanted us to speak their names on our tongues, not with tears, but with pride. That is why the Uzbek people keep the souls of the Jadids in their hearts forever.

Keywords:

Jadids, enlightenment, spirituality, progress, reforms, people, self-sacrifice, science, struggle, commerce, generation, cultural heritage, research, prosperity

Introduction:

It is not for nothing that we named the title of this article as the souls of the Jadids are eternal in our hearts. Today, let’s bring together the Jadids who fought and strived for our current peaceful life. True, there are so many of them that if we wanted to write about them, we would create a book, but we will cite a few.

1. Mahmudkhoj Behbudiy, one of the founders of the Jadids, was one of the representatives of his people with a number of books, articles, and poems.

 2. Abdulla Avloni, one of the representatives of the Jadids, a poet, a teacher, an enlightener of the Shura period and a number of other creative figures

3. Shepherd, a national artist of Uzbekistan

These are the founders of the Jadid school. Selfless heroes who fought for the homeland

1. Jaloliddin Manguberdi

2. Amir Temur

3. Zahiriddin Muhammad Babur

Our scientific and writer ancestors

1. Alisher Navoi

2. Abu Ali ibn Sino

3. Hamza Hakimzoda Niyozi

These are just representatives of the Uzbek people, how many more of our ancestors fought for Uzbeks.

Main part:

Thousands of heroes around the world fought for their homeland, their names are sealed in books, we can only read about their heroic deeds in books because they fought for our prosperity and independence. If we write thousands of articles and books for them, we must show them again and again for the younger generation that they are still with us, and this is necessary, regardless of what nationality we are from.

Conclusion:

We, the youth of Uzbekistan, will never tire of showing the world the bravery of our Jadids, and this is our duty. This article was written about the Jadids of Uzbekistan. Let us be grateful to them for the peace and prosperity of our homeland, which the Jadids have done for us. The souls of the Jadids are eternal in our hearts

References:

1. B. B. Islamov – Jadids and enlightenment

2. Sadriddin Ayni – Esdalik (memories)

3. Khurshid Davron – Jadid

Essay from Jasmina Rashidova

In today’s career-focused world, people have different views as to whether paying salary to workers depending on their productivity is a better approach to motivate them to work harder, particularly in professionally advanced communities. While there is a wide range of alternatives for encouraging employees to work harder, I firmly assert that paying salary based on their production and sales plays a crucial role for both employees and organizations.

First and foremost, there are obvious alternatives for motivating workers to work better. Once companies enforce free holiday opportunities for those who work efficiently, this makes a big difference in terms of a greater feeling of agreement and contentment, leading to a productive working process. So, workers are highly likely to be motivated easily. Furthermore, building a collective responsibility among colleagues in companies can be another method for encouragement. To be more precise, if workers learn how to collaborate, it seems unsurprising for them to experience a sense of leadership while simultaneously trying to show off their capability to their boss, thus resulting in a greater number of sales or production.

Meanwhile, despite these arguments, proponents of paying salary to employees based on their productivity cite compelling reasons to support their stance. To clarify further, productivity has been prevalently acknowledged for its effectiveness—a feature that sets it apart from other job sectors that pay all workers equally. As a result, it seems logical for companies to impose a certain amount of salary based on how much an employee produces, thereby motivating them to work harder. The more they produce or sell, the more income they earn. A good case in point can be my country, Uzbekistan, where a new initiative has been set up so that even part-time workers earn more due to their high amount of production or sales than full-time ones.

To sum up, although other initiatives such as cooperation among colleagues and free holiday chances offer some benefits, I strongly believe that only by paying workers based on their production or sales can we ensure that they take responsibility for working effectively.

Jasmina Rashidova, daughter of Bahodir, born on November 23rd, 2008, in the Shakhrisabz district of Kashkadarya Region, Uzbekistan. Currently, I am a 10th-grade student at the 74th school. I have earned recognition in various educational grants and have actively participated in international MUN conferences and meetings. I have also won several education-related contests and competitions, and I am a finalist in “BBG”, “FO”, “Katta Liderlar granti’25” and “VHG.” In addition, I run my own online teaching channel. I am also proud to be the recipient of a major leadership grant for my #pixelart & JR | INTELLECT project.

Poetry from Anwar Rahim

Black and white photo of a man kneeling and bowing to the ground.

Philosophy Of Life

Do not seek grace in artificial glory,

Test of time cannot face reality,

Stone takes time to carve into a precious gem,

Do not get strayed in the darkness of ignorance,

Heart and soul shine when following divine light,

A positive character on the right path leads to success,

The love of humanity should come first of all,

Lack of unity brings nations to a big downfall,

Cowardice brings disgrace publicly,

Martyrs live forever with respect and glory,

Grace by divine power places you very high,

Prostrate before Him with a humble strive and sigh,

With every breath, seek truth and righteousness,

And in your heart, let love and kindness shine bright,

For in the end, it’s not the glory that we hold,

But the love we share, and the light that makes us whole.