Poetry from Duane Vorhees

MY LIFE IN TORNADO ALLEY

--came screaming
through my home
upending it all
in an instant
and then

left
my tattered vacuum
behind, forever--

:the wind and the women

BENEFICE

At my baptism feast
I was immersed
adorned in gown and turban.

The host, swollen with yeast
and drunk with thirst,
cavorted like a merman.

I thrust my jolly priest
into your church
and delivered my sermon.

Hallelujah!


BIRTH-GROWTH-DEATH

We wear our trinity within:
Birth Growth Death.

We place our lots
between these dots:
Birth Growth Death.

Expand the beginning, then end.



Though by zeroes
we are enclosed
--Birth Growth Death--

we still contain infinities.
Birth Growth Death.

I, BIBLIOPHILE

One wife memorized Solomon
to reminisce our marriage.
And another remembered Spenser
in bequest to our sons.
And my mistress archived Milton
to remind me of my sin.
If only I’d had more lovers
I’d have read more libraries.


O FORMER LOVERS

What did you do n my life? Were you the butcher or the bride? My savior? A suicide?
O countess, accountant, or clown: the one who talked all my airplanes down?
Forgotten parents, let's make amends.
(Or is my asking a form of revenge?)
You wanted straighten, I wanted bend.
The times I broke out, where were you then?
hi ho rally ree, hi ho rally ree
hi ho hi ho hi ho rally ree
O life, you're a fife
that plays out of tune.I plug my ears shut
but still hear your song.
Hi ho hi ho rally ree
O former lovers can't we be friends?
So many starting lines only dead ends.
Snippets of love songs lost to the winds.
O former loved ones, why not be friends?
hi ho rally ree, hi ho rally ree
hi ho hi ho hi hom rally ree
Life is a wife
who's made out of tongue,
Who talks while I fuck—
just on on and on,,,
hi ho hi ho rally ree
 O unborn bastards, shall we pretend?
Could we have saved some instead of just spend?
Why can't the onces becomee once agains?
Quit filling rivers with corpses and cans.
Hi ho hi ho hi ho rally ree
O — life is a knife
and it's nine feet long.
We're stuck in the gut
And then we are gone.
hi ho hi ho  rally ree
In your life, what was I? Just one more endless hammer on the anvil of your nights?
Rusty dull umbilical scissors? Unspooled string to your puffed up kite?

Short stories from Peter Cherches

Madagascar

He loved dogs, but he didn’t want to deal with the responsibility of owning one, on top of which the concept of  “owning” an animal made him uncomfortable. But he’d always stop to pet a friendly dog on the street or in a shop, and he’d jump at the chance to board a traveling friend’s dog for a few days, even weeks.

His wife was somewhat indifferent to dogs, but she always welcomed the temporary visitor, as long as he did the feeding and walking. She was even happy to steal the occasional stomach pat, or to receive a brief lick.

The friend’s dog, a medium-sized male of unknown lineage, was called Winslow. The friend referred to it as That Winslow Boy whenever it did something naughty.

He was walking Winslow one morning when a passing neighbor said, “Oh, got yourself a dog?”

“Just for a couple of weeks,” he said. “I’m caring for him while his owner is in Madagascar.” He regretted having said “owner.”

“Oh, Madagascar, marvelous!” the neighbor exclaimed, and went on to tell him, in voluminous detail, about her own trip to Madagascar the year before.

Hard Times

He received a phone call, out of the blue, from a childhood friend he hadn’t seen or spoken to in decades. This friend had fallen on hard times and was “reaching out” to his old buddies.

He had fond memories of the guy and did want to help, so he asked, “How can I help?”

“I could use a place to stay,” the friend said.

Oh, no, that was out of the question. Not only would his wife never stand for it, neither would he.

“I’d love to help, but we don’t have the space,” he told the friend.

“I understand,” the friend said. There was a pregnant pause and then the friend said, sheepishly, “Maybe you could help me out with a little money for a motel?”

Should he suggest the friend find a shelter, or would that be an insult? Sure he could afford to give his friend a few hundred bucks, but what happens when that runs out? What about the long term?

He told the old friend to meet him at an ATM downtown. He withdrew $500 and handed the cash to the friend.

“Thanks, this means a lot to me,” the friend said.

He was about to say, “Any time,” then he caught himself and said, “Sure.”

Endgame

Before he met his wife, in a college course on postwar European drama, where they bonded over Beckett’s Endgame, he was dating a girl named Josie, but there had been no real spark; apparently the feeling was mutual, because when he told Josie he’d met someone new, she said, simply, “OK.”

That was thirty years ago. He and his wife had not discussed Beckett for the past twenty of them. Like most marriages.

Poetry from Philip Butera

Clawing and Crawling

Soft and kind

are

felt in another variation

when

waves confine ambition.

I can’t find what is under,

under

the many variables

hidden

under the fabric,

when the fabric

itself is hidden

under

a fabricated

lifestyle.

There are many reasons to cry.

When you lose a lover

who was a friend

but

the intimacy is missed

not the closeness.

Purpose and destruction

seek

comfort

from reasoning.

Problems

which serve deceit well

come to mind.

There are scars across the eyes,

across the miles

and though merit

is sacrificed for appearance

you can hear

the laughter from those

who know you.

I

am an actor,

and by no means

a dancer.

I

yield vicariously

to sermons

and

pretend to come alive.

I

have found

the womb of the soul

favors

deception

and

it is easier to demand

than to

take notice.

To gamble with God,

know that

the devil wins.

You must

fall to your knees

clawing and crawling,

until

a voice inside your head

screams,

“Just wake up.”

Philip received his M.A. in Psychology from Simon Fraser University, Vancouver, Canada. He has published five books of poetry, Mirror Images and Shards of Glass, Dark Images at Sea, I Never Finished Loving You, Falls from Grace, Favor and High Places, and Forever Was Never On My Mind. Three novels, Caught Between (Which is also a 24-episode Radio Drama Podcast https://wprnpublicradio.com/caught-between-teaser/), Art and Mystery: The Missing Poe Manuscript and Far From Here. Philip also has a column in the quarterly magazine Per Niente. He enjoys all things artistic.

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

Dreams in the Sleep

I dream a sweet dream

In my sleep

I sometimes walk in the garden with

The blooming flowers and green leaves

I sometimes swim and dream

Sometimes downfalling from the sky

I fly and cry, stop breathing

I  dream and move with the hinge

Life opens, life encircled

Life inhales all the beauty of light and darkness

Life fathoms what it never experienced before

Sometimes my mother would come to me

And blew a puff on my face in my childhood so that

I could get over the fearfulness

Oh dream you come so sweet

I smile on the face you stand in front of me.

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh

10 February, 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.

Essay from Maftuna Bozorova

Young Central Asian woman speaks at a podium with a flag and a screen behind her. She's got dark hair in a ponytail and a dark coat over a white blouse.

IS THERE A RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN LANGUAGE AND CULTURE?
Maftuna Bozorova O’lmas qizi


First-year student in Uzbekistan State World Languages University, foreign language and literature faculty.


ABSTRACT: This article brings your attention to the link between languages and cultures. The information about the ways of defining this connection, the information about language and culture is provided in an understandable manner.  Furthermore, the reasons why we need to learn other languages are delivered to the readers.
KEYWORDS: link, acquiring, social system, attributes, nationality, brainstorming, incorporating.


How we define the relationship between language and culture?


As humans, we need certain language to share our thoughts, opinions to others. Language is the key factor for our communication and for delivering our messages in the correct form. Human culture can not exist without language. We may find connection between two of these terms, when we try to learn the language first. Because, every language learner will get to know about the culture, by acquiring knowledge about other country’s traditions, the way of thinking, their outfit. In order to get connected with foreigner, people need to learn that language. Exchanging and brainstorming ideas, sharing different opinions helps people to learn about certain culture, allowing  nationalities unite together. Of course, the provided link to do so can be developed through the language.


What is language?


Language serves as a mirror of the culture, reflecting its values, social systems, and attitudes. Culture shifts and revolutions are often reflected in the language spoken by its members. Language is the most fundamental aspect of cultural identity. This means of communication give assistance to us to convey our innermost self from generation to generation. In most cases, the principal purpose of  language is to advance communication, in the sense of transmission of information from one person to another. It is evident that today humans’ life would be impossible without the use of language.


What is culture?


We may define culture as a term that refers to people’s horizons, their way of eating, their way of talking and walking, and even their way of dressing. People show their customs and traditions to the world. It is also worth noting that the whole society will disappear without culture. This is a vehicle to make them different from other nationalities. Culture is the attributes and knowledge of a particular group of people, incorporating the language, religion, cuisine, social habits, music, arts, and the way of celebrating weddings, birthday parties, and holidays. It is a really broad concept. The term “culture” can be substituted for the word “mannerism”.


The link between language and culture in the world today.
In today’s fast-paced world, many youngsters  are learning foreign languages like English, Russian, German, Korean as their second language, this is leading to increased bilingualism. Those who are obsessed with tones of work in one country and stayed stable in one job have many opportunities to go abroad by learning their language. It is fact that having enough information about the country you are visiting may prevent you from having a culture shock. Young people are using available chances to go to the foreign countries. If you learn the language, you will have enough information about that culture automatically. The sources, materials, music, articles you are using in order to learn the language will provide you with better insight to the culture.


Why do we need to learn other languages?


Well, this is really a reasonable question. Nobody requires or forces us to learn some foreign languages. It is definitely depends on our interests. It is essential to learn new language to become a better member of society, to gain more and more opportunities to travel around the world, to get higher salaries in our job from foreign states, to have a successful business career, to get in touch with the world, to have more general imagination, to think in different way and of course, there are a lot to count. By acquiring a foreign language and by communicating with the people whose this language is their native, we can broaden our horizon, thereby increasing our social skills, creative and critical thinking skills.

THE RESOURCES USED:
1.https://iafee.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/AKINTUNDE-Femi-and-OHIARE-UDEBU-jeee-vol-5-No-1-pp-133-146.pdf
2.http://pustakailmu.id/index.php/pustakailmu/article/download/296/275/1326
3.https://www.allstudyjournal.com/article/540/3-2-5-327.pdf
4.https://www.britannica.com/topic/language
5.https://www.britannica.com/topic/language/Historical-attitudes-toward-language

Poetry from Paul Tristram

An Overcomer Pauses, Momentarily, To Reflect

It is the rising back up

not the falling down

which determines

your character…

make yourself proud.

I SHINE out brightly

‘Creativity’…

an equal b-a-l-a-n-c-e

of positive and negative

… for such is life.

I want nothing,

nor no-one… I cannot

achieve honestly,

and adds to my Flow.

I’m coming at success

from a disadvantage…

a position I helped

construct from disaster.

Yet, I’m pleased with

the man I am today…

and even happier with

the one I am becoming.

Different, Now… No Hand Of God, I Sculpt Myself

I refuse to accept relationship retreads

… Winter is warmed

by logs once planted in Spring…

seesaw ‘Effort’ or lose ‘Balance’

… carrying someone else’s share

is either ‘Temporary’ or a BURDEN.

Empathy will only help ‘Support’

but will not FIX any Shadow Work

… Healing Thyself stops you

reaching outwards

and (Instead) finding Adult Solutions.

Each time you’ve got an Opportunity

to be ‘Mean’ and you turn away

… you GROW, and are Rewarded

with Elevation, and (Healthy) ‘Pride’.

I used to consider myself a Mirror,

giving/dishing out exactly what I got

… now, I am not even in the room,

a Ghost, you are lucky to be even near.

It Ends Here

No Jamboree awarded

… frown-wrinkled…

the gulf between

a narcissist’s REAL

SELF and its ‘mask’

is phenomenally wide.

Bang your pots,

make a loud noise…

you only ‘intimidate’

weak people… coward.

Learning To Grow Where There’s No Light But Hope

Replacing ‘Binge’ and ‘Moodswing’

with consistent productivity…

to not be ‘Triggered’

requires the wearing of less Armour.

I’m not arguing with you

because you’re ‘Angry’…

I’m not ‘Angry’, I’m ‘Smiling’

and taking the scenic route to Calm.

My ambition requires solo journeys

… with occasional handshakes

with mutually respectful individuals

where ‘Deals’ are made

towards ‘Advancement’ not ‘Snake’.

I do not predict ‘Trouble’,

I’m merely aware of its presence…

along the Pathway to Success which

‘Intertwines’ with that Road to Ruin.

The Spell Is Broken

Just watch her ‘Composure’

absolutely do one…

the moment he walks in,

and completely ignores her.

There are 3 of them,

foolishly and egotistically

playing ‘Musical Chairs’

in his Energy and Attention.

He’s after ‘Clemence’…

but, she’s not here, is she

… no, she’s not interested

in ‘Playas’… she’s decent.

We’ve BLOCKED them

out completely…

took us months to do it

… we lost Natalie, Sarah,

Bridget and Lorraine

in the complicated process.

And now, the Predators

are ‘Optionless’ (at least

in our circle)… so have

fallen back to swordfight

amongst their wicked selves.

Seating Arrangements

‘Wending’… only whilst

up to no good,

otherwise on a mission

marching direct/focused.

You’re complaining

about the ‘inconsistency’

of an inconsistent person

… that’s why I stopped

bothering with you…

I’m not offended, at all

… you can make

no sense all by yourself.

I do not ‘approach’

nor ‘close the distance’

… I decide, fixedly,

upon whom to let sit

down upon the handful

of valuable ‘Chairs’

which I am entertaining

at the changeable moment.

Unconscious Soul-Prisons Be Damned

I sat listening as you kept referring

to her as your ‘Rock’

… whilst, observing her

Basting your ‘Misery’ moist

with a delicate, calculated Cruelty.

Each time you… reached…

to do something ‘Independent’

she was there to Intervene

with a “Let me, dearest,”

and you’d (unthinkingly) SHRink

back down to ‘Pet Size’ again.

Whenever your contagious,

brilliant Enthusiasm and Passion

… reared their beautiful heads,

they were met with “Be careful

that you don’t excite yourself

too much, and have another turn.”

‘I can’t watch anymore’ I thought,

rising up onto my feet to leave…

“Don’t you ever get lonely?”

you asked at the front door step

as we said our last ever goodbye.

“… I couldn’t do it, myself,

I just don’t know what I’d do with

-out her in my life, I really don’t.”

“Become ‘Yourself’ again,”

I answered sincerely, walking away.

Paul Tristram is a Welsh ‘Street’ Writer who has poems, short stories & flash fiction published in hundreds of different publications all around the world. He yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet.

His novel “Crazy Like Emotion”, shorter fiction collection “Kicking Back Drunk ‘Round The Candletree Graves” and full-length poetry collections “The Dark Side Of British Poetry: Book 1 of Urban, Cinematic, Degeneration” and “It Is Big And It Is Clever: Book 1 Of A Punk Rock Hostile Takeover” are available from Close To The Bone Publishing.

Poetry from Dr. Prasanna Kumar Dalai

Middle aged South Asian man with reading glasses, short dark hair, a dark suit and red patterned tie.

ALL ALONE  I AM!

All alone I am in this earthly world

My own shadow is my only friend

Am neither infatuated nor crazy

Have never been a part of any show

Empty paths always hold me far off

Who has the sorrow of destination

Me nothing but a traveller of the heart

A lonely swan leaving the banks of lake

Busy travelling on the crest of waves

The moon and stars do simply inspire

I love myself more than anyone else.

MYTH OF THE NIGHT!

I ask noon if it has met anyone like you

I hunt for the face like yours all around

The buds haven’t found anyone like you

Florists aren’t sure of flowers like you

With that gait on heaven or the earth

The killing tresses, the lotus petal lips

Intoxicating eyes only myth of the night

The Google confirms ‘ur special status

Your uniqueness makes one really crazy

What should I call you,a Beauty or Bomb

If I may say so there is no poem like you .

SCATTERED I AM!

I want to be yours and make you mine

We are bodies intertwined into one soul

Accept this fact for all those moments

They feel like living for centuries to me

Your aroma that delights heart in toto

Slips away from my palm like rain drops

My tears obviously flow to connect you

Being crazy, I rove to find you in my alley

Scattered I am for a moment in the air

By holding your trust, I do walk ahead

My heart, a little emotional , overflows

With words splattering out of my eyes.

THE SOUL OF MY LIFE!

Your soul forces me to keep on walking

In my dejected and gloomy world

Even the seas are thirsty and famished

The nectar is in the beauty of your eyes

Can I paint your image or write a poem

An amalgamation of hues and rhythms

You’re the beat of my innocent heart

And the very soul of my mortal life

Your breath is as fragrant as blooms

Your arms have the softness of lotus

The brightness of sunray is in the face

A deer I do find in your gracefulness

Your love can stitch up my torn heart.

Biography of the Author

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