Мy country
The sun shines in the blue sky
Casting light shines magic
Wakes up early in the morning
Giving love to mother earth.
My independent land is my motherland
Blooming, living forever
Let us play and sing in your bosom
Remember every breath you take.
Ruzmetova Zuhra Vyacheslavovna November 30, 2006 I was born in the city Urgench, Khorezm region. There are 6 of us in the family my father my mother my brother my twin and me. I am currently a student of the 11th grade of school no 14 in Urgench city. I appeared on the international website "synchronized chaos" and I am the coordinator of the this international site. My poems have been recognized in more 10 countries. Every week I am guest on Khorezm TV channel. I am the holder of badge "For the international Services"🏅by the bi wing poets writers Association. I am the winner of competitions of more than 100 national and international organizations. I have a B2 certificate of knowledge of the Turkish🇹🇷 language. I have many future dream goals.
I Never Saw this Coming
When I looked into your eyes, I saw myself in you, like a mirror
I shake my head because my feelings are hard to explain
I never want to live in a world where you aren't beside me
We are like puzzle pieces that only fit together... heart and soul
We stumbled upon each other when our roads crossed
You with a broken heart and me trying to find where I belonged
We connected so easily and I can't imagine life without you
My soul is now attached to yours, and I no longer miss mine
Your heart is now big enough to hold both of us with one beat
I have become like the shadow you see as you walk in the sun
I hope when you look in my eyes, you will now see yourself.
But I must confess, I never saw this coming...
Your Sweetest Dream
I pretend to not see you look my way
I sigh because the love you have for me is so deep.
You take my breath away when you come towards me
My love for you only grows and I can't imagine myself
ever being without you...
"Always take me with you"
I long for you to always drown my life with your love
There is nothing you can give me that is worth more than that
I never fear what is in our future, whether joy or sorrow.
As long as we do it together is all that matters to me...
"Never leave"
I pray you will always love me as your Sweetest Dream...
"Hold me closer" ❤
Where Silence Ends
We stand close together with silence between us
Conversation goes from sweet notes to serious looks
No more do you give into the sadness within you
because tonight you are in the heat of my arms
As I look at you, I can't help but sigh loudly
because I know tonight belongs to just us
I can hear nothing but the whispers of our breaths
Silence is the music that captures this moment
A tear starts to form in the corner of my eye
as a serious smile comes closer to meet my lips
Come, and take a dip in this silent river
where silence ends and sweet music begins...
Glowing Moon of Passion
O' Moon of Passion...
How I long to take in your warm glow
as you fill me with a beam of passion
and spill over onto me your stars of sweetness.
Oh how my senses shudder as I bask in the presence of your orgasmic light.
Kristy Raines is an internationally known poet and prose writer born in Oakland, California, USA.
Kristy is retired and married with two children and three granddaughters.
Kristy has four books getting ready to publish. One anthology with a prominent Poet from India, which will launch sometime in 2024 called, "I Cross my Heart from East to West", two fantasy books of her own called, "Rings, Things and Butterfly Wings" and "Princess and The Lion", an anthology of poems in English, "Little Rose Poetry" and her Autobiography called "My Very Anomalous Life". Kristy has received many literary awards for her unique style of writing.
Kristy enjoys fundraising for her friends who live in the refugee camps of Cox's Bazar and her volunteer work to raise awareness for the Rohingya people.
Children in West Bank...
Children of Gaza
One war and one day
The children in Gaza
They say the word
"War"
First
And after they say
Mom
Childrens in Gaza
They are all tattoo their names in their arms
Because a day is too short
And maybe until the end of night
They will become Angels
There is a whole world in the
West Bank
A kindergarten that bad dragons attack for a long time ago
Nobody helps
Nobody support
Nobody cares
The blood is cooling everywhere in Gaza
In the school
In the streets
Where the childrens supposed to play and laugh
Bombs have destroy the houses
Children in Gaza
are born heroes
from their mother's belly
Children in Gaza
They fight since they are born
Do not dare close your eyes
In this unfair reality
Don't close your eyes in this genocide
Stand up for the children of
Gaza
Happy birthday
Ahmed
Happy birthday
Mohamed
How old are you?
I am a year of war and one day
And you?
I am 2 years of war and 3 days
Let's celebrate this special day, My brother and sister
Tomorrow the war will divide us
Childrens with no eyes
No legs
No ears
No smile
No faces
Childrens of Gaza
Innocent childrens
in sacred earth
That they sacrifice
To Evil
Prayers for childrens of Gaza
Prayers to stop this madness
Prayers to stop this genocide
Stop the blood of innocent children
Last Wording
half the polar well
holds the harming serve
until breathers moan
again loaded
culminating adobe details
in the foreground cove
while
the tattered syllable recluse
celebrating from coherence
occupied yogurt armor
between aggressive pouncing
where
cufflinks rotate
cowl interjections
rubbed beyond
new reconstruction torpedos
bamboo cracks
pandemic eccentricities
in seance
*
grammatical stalling
skewers one written
empire
patriarch iced
legend’s fixative seeks nods
distrust empurpled
celebrity hump rebuffs
where a lead terrorist
bends to cold pavement
broadening
perceptible calamities
bustle correspondence deadened a utopia decoy
*
moon’s wake
the orthographic effigy
put refraction thoroughfares
lunging apart
aggressor
progressions
gone
with the global
valence
present condemned
a rope motive
in the echoed slab
reputation boiling
clauses to memoir debauch
endowment removed
History Happening
extreme sanskrit multiplex directive
commotion scattered babel tongues
across the time of papyrus infusion
caverns gave coded empathy shrouds
a place to gather against the wind
or another ark to flood with animals
contained to pair for a bearded one
stoning down mountain imperatives
androgynous caverns heaving a glide
toward the desert suit filed into sand
temptations crystallized their renewal
before the reflection written to fix
the derelict card careening passion
through undirected profusion litters
light crystals prismatic sun spokes
an emerging moon theme in motion
revolving over the nighttime desert
where billowed plans will resolve
with the crux of historic anticipation
carried to any nearby tree will do
the sect projection beyond the day
the exempt declared renewed grit
and peremptory sandstone polish
not the rain of provisional passing
furnished a new micrometer legend
whose replications dated calendars
when their makers proved reluctant
snapshots in the tiller thatch missed
no embryonic passport in the thicket
or watchful rushes bulling paparazzi
to divide the walls that conquer all
tablets that broke their millennium
before the requisite numbers spread
the vast mirage of new mother's milk
spread through forty days of microbes
tempting the igneous with sediment
promised to deliver layered history
to seeking prophets under threat of
renewed octagon vengeance made
before the form could fake ascent
on the choral donations or decor
as added to the licentious playbill
rostered pagan invasion sealant
before fumes could accrue tarnish
receptacles reeling with plasma grief
worn follicle ventures packing meat
of their belief into a worn sleeve’s fray
no doppel to gang a loose parlance
with a part from the other to match
the fetid geometry buckle in manure
angling the portal drop toward hay
where they fielded lain shepherds
deepened their sleep wherever
the sale of their sheep relocated
their hostile ambience a matter
of sacred discord when aroused
the cult of thirteen ran the dozens
against a predictable implosion
felt rummaging vegetable sponsors
when old spoons entice the lurid
a cult device records the subtext
no graphic delayed for the new ride
a molecular detergent foray decries
testicular headings over horsemeat
babble at the slowed compendium
forming a triage from the fictive mix
Dream a Generation Away
rutabaga polish
rides a sanskrit momentum
calypso fury casts the last rendition
*
enamel passion
brings its own veneer
to hidden sightings
vegetation budgets an inner flourish
before melting lavender
pots its ancient shrug
while inaction seeks its tongue
*
an action pursued
the molting factotum legend
of suit incarnation
dispassionate, buried
seven layers of ancient cities
bubble above the shale
*
radical depiction
cherishes a hairy flourish
the vegetable innovative crew
merrily words away
the gray whitening to the rhythm’s light
an edition only dreamed to last
BIOVernon Frazer’s most recent poetry collection is Memo from Alamut.
768-
Love. All you need is. Makes the world
go ‘round. Is a many splendored. Thing.
Love Shack. Love Boat. Love Canal.
Kevin Love. Thirty Love. Forty-five love.
Sixty. Love. Somebody to. Love. Hiroshima
My. Love. Love hurts. Love is a battlefield.
Love at six thousand degrees.
769-
Joy in the morning. Joy to the world.
All the boys. And girls. Joy to the fishes
In the deep blue. Sea. See. Blue Meridian.
Blood Meridian. Jeremiah was a.
Prophet.
770-
Violent Femmes or Psychedelic Furs.
Dead Kennedys or Dead Milkmen
It’s all happening at zoo. Charlie
Don’t Surf. It smells like.
Teen spirit. Victory.
771-
Astro turf never needs water.
Plush lawns for pink flamingoes.
Black jockey statues with ring
handles. Tethers for ghost ponies.
Kissing cousins to Christmas displays.
The reindeer. And the elves.
Yard dwarfs and garden gnomes.
Paint them with glitter. Glow in
the dark colors. Lawn ornaments
need attitudes.
772-
Easy reading or Life Stories
Briefing for a Descent into Hell
or Woman of Solitude
The Golden Notebook or
The Bell Jar
Canticle for Liebowitz or
Wittgenstein’s Mistress
Desert Solitaire or
Arctic Dreams
Hades in Manganese or
An Alchemist with One Eye
on Fire
Portrait of Dorain Gray or
A Guided Tour of Hell (again)
773-
Patti Smith. Solo. Portraits of
people. Stuff. Walt Whitman’s
tomb. Sonic’s Fender. Cross with
a mirror. Mapplethorpe’s hands.
His slippers. His star mirror, London.
His cross. Jesus with a flower.
V. Woolf’s cane. Duncan Grant’s
paintbrushes. Pitted mirror, East
Sussex. The River Ouse. Robert
Graves’s straw hat. William Blake’s
head. Not a Fordham Baldie. A
visionary. Brighton Beach sea gull.
Herman Hesse’s typewriter. Bust of
Baudelaire. Brancusi’s grave. Ingres’s
Christ detail. Rimbaud’s eating
utensils. Godard seated, Alexandria.
St Sebastian. Details. Arrows. Turin.
Shroud. Details. Stuffed bear with a
Calling card tray. Tolstoy’s house.
No one home. Self Portrait 2003.
Unfocused.
776-
Ocean Avenue Salvage: A Personal History
Of:
My mother’s metronome
Her mother’s books
DeMaupassant
Robert Louis Stevenson
Richard Harding Davis
My mother in law’s tea cups
My father in law’s tools
My step-mother’s wicker baskets
My father’s picture in a heart shaped frame
Their Shaker Art
It’s a gift to be simple
In The Shade
Stop trying to sell me your light.
You are only going to lose the fight.
I've been there; I've seen beyond that beam.
What you are so sure of is just a wishful dream.
Maybe you will find peace but I only found sadness.
A sadness that immerged me into the arms of madness.
A madness that drove me to my inner core.
Where I dwelled and part of me will dwell evermore.
In a darkness that harbors negativity
Feeding on every drop of positivity.
Only in that I let my misery torture me
In that darkness am I truly free.
Sick
I'm just sick
I'm adDICted
I need a fix
I need you with me
I need a kiss
So what's it gonna be?
Can't you just hold me?
'Cause I'm a dick
I'm conVICted
Watch my tricks
My heart is incarcerated
All that I wish
Is that I stay sedated
Why are we so complicated?
I want your touch
It's not like I'm asking much
We're half way to defeat
'Cause we never seem to meet
I need you bad
Can't we have what we had?
I'm just sick
I'm adDICted
I need a fix
I need you with me
I need a kiss
So what's it gonna be?
Can you just hold me?
'Cause I'm just sick
From southwestern Michigan, Jerry Langdon has lived in Germany since the early 90's. He is an Artist and Poet. His works bathe in a darker side of emotion and fantasy. He has released five books of Poetry titled "Temperate Darkness an Behind the Twilight Veil", “Death and other cold things” “Rollercoaster Heart” and “Frosted Dreams” Jerry is also the editor and publisher of the literary magazine Raven Cage Zine poetry and prose. His poetic inspirations are derived from poets such as Edgar Allen Poe, Robert Frost and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. As well as from various Rock Bands. His apparently twisted mind, twists and intertwines fantasy with reality.
