Poetry from Duane Vorhees

MIGRATORY

I paddled inside you,

my mallard on your pond.

And then ¡away! I flew.

You waved and waved, alone.

ARACHNOLOGIST

My page-spiders

weave their wordwebs

inside your head,

to decipher.

UNSEASONED

Don’t come to me in Yellow,

when thermometers are full

of fever, of sweat, of woe

and nights are by daylight culled.

And please avoid me in Brown.

Environments start to die

and virgin forests ungown

and bare scarcity outcries.

Avoid my presence in White:

Lives lie sleeping in the ground

away from the strangled light,

away from festival sounds.

But in Green I’ll wait for you

and in Green we’ll reunite.

Green will welcome a rendezvous

between my cloud and your kite.

JASMINE AND COAL

I fell out of the orgasm

that left me bitter and old.

The air was filled with jasmine

but my tongue tasted of coal.

I lived like a revolution.

In the midst of brick and steel

I thought I could find ablution

if I never bowed or kneeled.

I believed only a hedon

was immune to slavery,

misunderstood as freedom

the struggle for ecstasy.

COCOON

I saw my externist today

and got my prescriptions filled

for a well-curated array

of armor auras and pills

to protect me against weathers

and germs. And also to blunt,

like a cuirass wrought of leather,

the intimacy of hugs

and the taste and touch of kisses.

In this invisible plate

I can discover what bliss is,

now that I’m inviolate.

Poetry from Don Bormon

Young teen South Asian boy with thick short dark hair, brown eyes, and a white collared shirt with a name tag and a school seal.
Don Bormon

Winter Day

Now winter is very hard

Animal need guard.

Sun can’t be seen

Everywhere is covered with fog

The fog is falling like rain

It wet the entire nature.

Poor people struggle very hard in winter

They haven’t clothes to cover.

Animals can’t go out for food.

So it is very sad, not good!

When the sun goes out,

The mist’s drops of leaves

Shine bright.

This time the nature be happy

From animals to trees.

Don  Bormon is a student of grade nine in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.

Poetry from Audrija Paul

Young South Asian woman with short dark hair, brown eyes, and a patterned red and white sari. She's standing in front of a door with fish decals.

 WAIT- THE ARCANE HOPE

I’ll be waiting for you,

A thousand lives,

I’ll be waiting for you,

Till I finish counting all the stars.

I’ll be waiting,

Till I cross the blue and reach your horizon. 

I’ve felt the tides splashing in hy heart,

When I saw the ocean in your eyes.

Your absence made me love you as much as I love the moon.

My heart sank deep down in the ocean  of your eyes,

And no, I don’t want to float.

The tides have washed away all the blood and,

 Your name is scribbled in my heart, by the merciless movement of the hard rocks.

Poetry from Maftuna Rustamova

Human value.
They say that money solves everything in the world. They say that human welfare does not allow this. You cannot do anything without money. No matter how much knowledge you have, you cannot live without money.
Even those who acquire this knowledge sell it for money, and the owner of clear knowledge is left behind.

A child of an ordinary person has the most knowledge, but a child of a rich man knows nothing.

Why are you always a rich man’s son?
Why do you say that if a man with money is his father.
Did you see, my friends, this story of mine will still be answered in the Day of Judgement.

Bukhara region
Jondor district
of the 30th school
8th “a” class student
Maftuna Rustamova

Poetry from Faleeha Hassan

Middle Eastern woman, young middle aged, with brown eyes and a green headscarf. She's in a black top and posing inside a room with a wall hanging behind her.

The Winter Kids

No midday warmth shields us from the chill of our shadows,

No dreams to drag us to sleep

Our house, rooted in the heart of the storm—

We were the first to leave it,

The last to enter, to sit in the folds of its corners

Like used pencils,

Staring at a heater,

Its oil dwindling,

Leaning shyly, against the chest of the wall.

We have nothing from our father but all of him

From our mother,

the warmth her Abaya that we moved to and from

The glow of our souls

Our burps from fullness,

The acceleration of our pulse at the crossroads of stories,

And her whispering,

“Sleep! We fell asleep.

By Faleeha Hassan

She is a poet, teacher, editor, writer, and playwright born in Najaf, Iraq, in 1967, who now lives in the United States. Faleeha was the first woman to write poetry for children in Iraq. She received her master’s degree in Arabic literature and has now published 27 books. Her poems have been translated into English, Turkmen, Bosnian, Indian, French, Italian, German, Kurdish, Spain, Korean, Greek, Serbia, Albanian, Pakistani, Romanian, Malayalam, Chinese, ODIA, Nepali and Macedonian. She is a Pulitzer Prize Nominee for 2018 and a Pushcart Prize Nominee for 2019.

Faleeha is a member of the International Writers and Artists Association, a winner of the Women of Excellence Inspiration award from SJ Magazine 2020, the winner of the Grand Jury Award (the Sahitto International Award for Literature 2021), a member of the Women of Excellence selection committees for 2023, a winner of a Women in the Arts award for 2023, a member of Who’s Who in America 2023, on the judging panel for the 2023 Sahitto Award, the winner of the HerStory Award from the Women’s Federation for World Peace New Jersey 2024, a Cultural Ambassador between Iraq and the USA since 2018, a Cultural Ambassador and worldwide literary advisor for PEN CRAFT Bangladesh.

She is also honored to be appointed as a 2024 Peace Ambassador by the Universal Peace Federation and to be a member of The Founding Mothers Global Women’s Congress 2024. You may email Faleeha Hassan at d.fh88@yahoo.com

Poetry from Taylor Dibbert


Stinky

He’s at National

Getting into 

An Uber

And as soon as

He closes

The door 

He realizes 

That the driver

Smells quite bad

But it’s

Cold outside

And he’s exhausted

And really needs

This ride

So he starts breathing

Through his mouth,

A five-star review

Is nowhere in sight.

Taylor Dibbert is a writer, journalist, and poet in Washington, DC. “Rescue Dog,” his fifth book, was published in May.

Poetry from Chimezie Ihekuna

Chimezie Ihekuna (Mr. Ben) Young Black man in a collared shirt and jeans resting his head on his hand. He's standing outside a building under an overhang.
Chimezie Ihekuna

Men and Society

Society creates a structure to survive

Men would have to live through the hard means, sometimes with a knife.

Men have to pay for being masculine 

Their objection Is out of line

The subjugation of this specie in accordance to the agenda align

Sadly, most men can’t meet up with the current society’s demands

They are faced with tasks that are of threatening commands

Men are evaluated based on their purchasing power

Society creates structures that dwindle the ability to be the builders

They are not genuinely loved by women

Living ATM machines are what women see men

So, it because uphill seeking love from a people who are emotional

Men know this to be carnal

If men  can’t provide they are relegated as being irresponsible

They are being treated as being unrecognizable

If there be children, it becomes more of a burden

The pressure on men becomes more of a struggle den

It appears the struggle of men is their fate.

Existence, can you answer me?

Am I just here to exist to exit?

What if the live I’m living is a function of an esoteric transit?

 Are my living or just here to add to the ecosystem?

Is nature fair to my living?

How did I get here in the first place?

What tells me I’m living?

Was I told  to live?

Is living a culture I was indoctrinated with?

Could I be living a life of death?

Could I be dreaming in the name of living?

Could death be the real existence?

Who told me I was a man?

How sure is it that I’m a woman?

Could sleep be an in-between of life and death?

Is life living a purpose?

What’s the purpose?

Is that realistic rather than an illusion?

In fact, is life just a phase or a complete illusion?

Could my living be a function of my  birth to the time of death?

How realistic is time?

Is it a construct or what I was programmed with, from time of birth to death?

Could the past, present and future exist in the NOW?

Who am I? 

An identity given to me by my parents?

Are the teachings by parents, schools and  religious houses define the life I ought to live?

What lies after I die?

Does my soul migrate to other worlds or just vanish into the thin air of infinity?

Is heaven or hell here on Earth or somewhat in the Great Beyond?

Could death be an ease of living

Are my living in an illusion?

What’s reality? Or a 

Patterned illusion?

Is Nature real?

Could I be a living version of holographic consciousness?

Am I being told the truth or being lied to?

Am I educated or just indoctrinated?

Where lies the truth about my existence?

Or is this what I would live with within the construct, known as time?

Existence, can you answer my questions?

My Belief

It shapes me and how I see the world

It forms my underlining principles against the odd

It is the pivot of my rationale

It is the make-up of my aspirations above every minimal

It is a decider to the company I keep

The connection between me and my kind is deep

Away from my belief…

I have come to realization of the world is no wrong that what’s left isn’t right

And what should be right isn’t left

The deviation from my belief recognize the world is in a R.A.W state,

Right And Wrong is actually what the world is!

Back to my belief….

 The tree of my life’s essence

The definition of my greatness

The character of my  goodness

The fountain of my meekness

The foundation of my benevolence

The state of my carefulness

My belief is my life;

It makes me free from the knife

It keeps in me line, despite prevailing strife

I’m confident of its efficacy

That’s why I’m sure of its accuracy

I’m a living proof of my belief

My daily aspiration

I wake in the morning in anticipation of a great day

It’s a necessity I plan out workable ways

Lo and behold, I have to put things in order before I set out

In the cause of the day, I work out

The realization of challenges emerges

I have to put up with the  surges

The stress,

The behaviours of people,

The unsettling environment,

I have to endure

That’s what it takes to measure

I’m almost forced to give in

My good character couldn’t fit in

I had to develop a tough skin to handle the difficulties

It was imperative I severe negative ties

To achieve my set objectives for the day,

Come what may

Mingling with well-meaning persons is a boost

That’s not in my place to unwisely boast

Exchanging great ideas to advance my agenda

Learning from their wealth of wisdom

To become behaviorally better

With the peace of mind and fulfilment of purpose for the day, 

I’m good to go

That’s the daily motto

Marriage

A man is the gatekeeper to marriage

It is expected of him to be comfortable at his age

He is expected to provide and protect

That’s what his role actually meant

He searches for a help-meet

A difficult task it is, he gives his best shot to a woman of his choice

A woman eventually gives in to his poise

The union begins

A tough journey, it means

Trying to understand each other makes things complicated

Her expectations are overrated

His trying to be responsible within his means

She seems not to comprehend how he handles his things

Two people from separate backgrounds

To live under one roof to face the odds

He thinks he’s in love with her

Only to find out he’s expectation of love from her is far

She’s in business based on what she stands to gain

At times, this could come out of his pain

He looks up to his mentor

He sees his case is minor

He faces his business to save his relationship

His woman has turned the union to a situationship

She’s seeking other options

Because there are no available options on his side

He gives her his all

But she wants the unaffordable mall

Her backup plans for other options are at her beck and call

He becomes disturbed and decides to rise tall

Sadly, he realizes she’s all about her feelings

Not what he has to offer from his belongings

After all said and done, 

The differences become irreconcilable

With or without the children, the separation becomes inevitable

He understands the game has been rigged

Participating wisely is the only it can be fixed

But wonders “what do men exclusively gain from marriage”?

The Life Of A Man

He wants to live a life of ease

But wants and desire create has created dis-ease

He is at war with himself and world

Because he’s faced with the odd

From birth, the tag of masculinity becomes a daunting task

He would wished he has his mask on to dodge responsibility

but the mindset of being a man can’t rule out accountability

The struggle continues…

There has to be patience in his manner of approach

Else, he would be face with reproach

The need for self improvement sets in

The development is ongoing even in that inn

All the time, he wished for better days ahead

But it’s sad no one really cared

He has to move on with life

Even though his challenges are like a knife

The pressure to become his aspirations on him mounts each day

He’s bothered because he’s yet to find the way

There’s an urge to cut corners

His  good conscience wonders

Working legitimately becomes his watch-word

He puts his health on the line for the wealth

Sacrifices present pleasures for future treasures

Time is not his friend

He fears his financial clock might end

He puts in every effort to make things work

Stress begin to lurk

He has to persist, at the expense of his health

To make wealth

After years of long suffering, he makes it

There comes a ‘but’ that makes his struggle not worth it

He has a disease

Made possible by his inability to address his past dis-ease

He uses his wealth earned from his struggle to improve his health

There’s a slim chance he would live to enjoy his sweat

His struggle is the legacy he met

The struggle of a man is his undoing

Life Happened…

If you are a winner, life happened

If you are a loser, life happened

If you succeed, life happens

If you lose, life happened

If you are married, life happened

If you are single, life happened

If you are sick, life happened

If you are healthy, life happened

If you have children, life happened

If you are childless, life happened

If you came from a wealthy home, life happened

If you came from a poor home, life happened

If you believe in something, life happened

If you believe in nothing, life happened,

If you marry a good spouse, life happened,

If you marry a bad spouse, life happened

If you are the first, life happened

If you are the last, life happened

If you are the favorite, life happened

If you are the least, life happened

If you are rich, life happened

If you are poor, life happened

If you are a lender, life happened

If you are a borrower, life happened

If you are purposeful, life happened

If you are careless, life happened

If you are available, life happened

If you are scarce, life happened

If you are worth it, life happened,

If you are worthless, life happened

If you are diligent life happened

If you are indolent, life happened

If you are happy, life happened

If you are sad, life happened,

If you live long, life happened

If you die young, life happened

I

Life happened to us all…

The Life Of A Man

He’s mandated to commence his responsibility at the times of  Morning

He’s anticipated to meet up every task set before him at the times of the Afternoon

He’s to ensure everything he does gets applauded by society at the times of Night

He has to be on his guard at the times which are Not Obviously Waiting

He’s expected to implore the mindset of being successful at all times

He’s looked at as a living resource factor to be drained by those who would, at times of want

He’s pocket has to contain what needs to be taken away, for one thing or the other, at times of need.

He’s someone who supposed to be that struggling entity for everyone’s enrichment, at times of taking care of himself

He’s anticipated to suddenly die from the stress from his struggle, possibly at the times of his prime

The Life of a man is like a pathetic zombie: struggle to die.