When The Seasons Change

When the leaves turn

And the world starts to burn

Vibrant colors of joy return

When the seasons change.

When the air cools

And our sadness pools

We whine like fools

When the seasons change.

Everyday is a miracle

And we can enjoy the spectacle

It is so magical

When the seasons change.

We can turn over a new leaf

We only have to hold our belief

And it can be such relief

When the seasons change.

With the first snow

Everything seems to slow

This too will go

When the seasons change.

When the love birds sing

And the world thaws to spring

We made it through everything

When the seasons change.

In The Early Morning Rain

Got the word today

My buddy passed away

Got the word today

In the early morning rain.

With poppies in the hand

Tears drench the sand

Another life for this land

In the early morning rain.

It feels hell is so near

I could die right here

I just can’t see clear

In the early morning rain.

The poppies grow now

I feel so alone now

The poppies grow now

In the early morning rain.

We were brothers to the end

Our friendship will never bend

Know, we will fight to the end

In the early morning rain.

Now my head hangs low

With the sorrow I show

Hard to let you go

In the early morning rain.

With poppies in my hand

In the early morning rain

Tears drench the land

In the early morning rain.

I raise my glass to you

You helped me get through

I raise my glass to you

In the early morning rain.

From South-Western, Michigan, Jerry Langdon lives 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.

I Have Walked The Morn

 In Mists I have walked the morn in mists 
And trodden down the valley lily white 
And run the gauntlet sunshine fair 
Robed in silken webs no woman ever wove, 
Shod in sandals light - 
Airy, as death is weightless 
And left youth and gaiety high and dry 
At the entrance gate of responsibility 
And entered therein 
To lie face down, child of marble, wayward 
On the dew drenched lawn of forever, 
Crying tears of stone 
To the unveiling of a statue, ageless. 
I have reached reverently out to touch 
The alabaster agony of space without time 
To carve the precious light of existence, sweet 
With flawless line, chisel 
The wrinkles of age and time away 
Layer by layer to the stone’s heart 
Newborn, in beauty glowing, translucent 
With hands of steel, a sculptress 
Kneeling to whisper, “It is good.” 


RUNNING DOWN THE COMET TAILED STREAMS OF LIGHT
 
Running down the comet tailed streams of light, 
Day into day; night into night; pulling free, 
Bursting into flight, suddenly 
Caught up in the Earth's stream 
Soaring in vapor trailed orbits of being. 
Atoms of mass in conglomerates of be, 
Exploding full circle into dimensions of me. 
I do not grow old; I am forever! 
I dream; I feel; I see all things 
Of life; of beauty; of death; ( Secretively whispers ) 
I know the song the dust sings - (Song of the Dust) 
"There is no finality in me, 
I soar; I float and dance, 
I laughingly chant the notes of life
From “The Songbook of the Dead." 

Annie Johnson is 84 years old. She is Shawnee Native American. She has published two, six hundred-page novels and six books of poetry. Annie has won several poetry awards from world poetry organizations including; World Union of Poets; she is a member of World Nations Writers Union; has received the World Institute for Peace award; the World Laureate of Literature from World Nations Writers Union and The William Shakespeare Poetry Award. She received a Certificate and Medal in recognition of the highest literature from International Literary Union for the year 2020, from Ayad Al Baldawi, President of the International Literary Union. She has three children, two grandchildren, and two sons-in-law. Annie played a flute in the Butler University Symphony. She still plays her flute.

We must wake up! 
 
The destruction of the world is reversed, 
Innocence, honesty, truth are lost! 
Like a mad horse he bought and left, 
They take away, and the world is a disgrace! 
We need to wake up from the sleep of carelessness, 
We must rise to the broken surroundings, 
We must rebuild, create, 
Let the poor ignorance of life disappear! 
Let's raise the flag of peace together, 
Let the world finally return from the abyss!

Elmaya Jabbarova - was born in Azerbaijan. She is poet, writer, reciter, translator. Her poems were published in the regional newspapers «Shargin sesi», «Ziya», «Hekari», literary collections «Turan», «Karabakh is Azerbaijan!», «Zafar», «Buta», foreign Anthologies «Silk Road Arabian Nights», «Nano poem for
Africa», «Juntos por las Letras 1;2», «Kafiye.net» in Turkey, in the African's CAJ magazine, Bangladesh's Red Times magazine, «Prodigy Published» magazine. She performed her poems live on Bangladesh Uddan TV, at the II Spain Book Fair 1ra Feria Virtual del Libro Panama, Bolivia, Uruguay, France, Portugal, USA.

HIV-AIDS

H ow can one person condemn another
I gnorance does superstitions gather
V irus to fear, no right for spirit to shatter

A cquired illness reason to ostracize in society
I ndifferent to afflicted's pains and tragedy
D evoid of compassion and acts of humanity
S hame on us AIDS knows no diversity

Whatever reasons there may be
Infected ones need not our pity
We are needed to show empathy
To be just there for them our moral duty

One can't be infected with mere touch of care
Support and love definitely can share
Put your feet in their shoes if you dare
Not just risks but their plight be aware





Butac Memories

Dad's from South, with fields of sugar, corn and rice 
Mom's from North, with mountains, cliffs and rivers rise
I was born and raised here in the city of vice

Grew up with telephones, teevee tubes and toys from mall
Bored of movies, fastfoods and buildings tall
Hotels, gymns and 50% sale stall

Still I would have loved to be in the mountain
Bumpy road ride through rocky terrain
On hand cart, who needs horses with brawny 
Uncle in the rain

Rudimentary lifestyle, no electricity strings, 
Bamboo pipe water from mountain springs
Ghost and monster scares round wood fire rings

Forget about land hole stairs.
Luck for balance, go home in pairs
House slumping up the trail, no gates- no cares

Cousins with practical tricks under sleeves
Care for itchy oozey barks and thorny leaves
Faires and mermaids Grandma's voice weaves

Break the fast by the firewood oven before ten
Lunch of river froglets and exotic dish, Aunt Mary's kitchen
Dinner higher up the mountains with Uncle Eugene

Just a couple weeks of rare vacation
Back to Manila lowlands for education
Tears and clinging hugs for lifetime devotion

Mountain ranges surreal nostalgic
City born life a childhood tragic
Land just below the skies is pure magic



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.

I READ... 

I read ghazals, i read novels 
I travelled, i smiled, and drowned .
Life's ain't like literature class, alas! 
i failed in a story i owned... 
Silence's neither being alive nor dying, 
The most heavy blows of howl. 
To smile while your crying, 
A witch that break your soul...

Shamsiya Khudoynazarova Turumovna (February 15, 1973) was born in Uzbekistan. Studied at the Faculty of Journalism of Tashkent State University (1992-1998). She took first place in the competition of young republican poets (1999). Four collections of poems have been published in Uzbekistan: “Leaf of the Heart” (1998), “Roads to You” (1998), “The Sky in My Chest” (2007), “Lovely Melodies” (2013). 

She wrote poetry in more than ten genres. She translated some Russian and Turkish poets into Uzbek, as well as a book by Yunus Emro. She lived as a political immigrant with her family for five years in Turkey and five years in Ukraine. Currently lives in Switzerland. Married, mother of five children. It was not possible to publish poems and translations written by the poet in the next ten years.

Autumn ..

The world is full of treasures,
It is as if tears are shed.
Life is fast, it passes quickly.
The stone is crushed like dust.
Step taken - memory,
Screaming clock miles.
I can't think of anything,
Joyful ways of childhood.
The faces of the flower idols are combed.
Shamshad's legs bent, see,
The heart is addicted to love,
  It makes the nerves tense.
There are many who have reached this fall,
Those who do not are neighbors of Allah.
I do not know how much time is left?
A dream with no meaning ..
I was looking for a chorus,
I'm thirsty, it's heartbreaking.
I fell in love with you,
This is destiny, this is vision.
Oh, the memory bag is beautiful,
There are lovers, there are more enemies.
I'm done in the fall, deliberately ghazal,
To soothe a thirsty heart.
Autumn..The world is full of treasures ..
Life is fast, it passes quickly ...

Sharipova Zuhro Sunnatovna (Zahro Shamsiyya) She was born on April 9, 1969 in the Nurata district of the Navoi region. Her first poem was published in 1985 in the Gulhan magazine. Uzbek publishing houses published works in the journal "Sharq Yulduzi", in the literature and art of Uzbekistan - "Ma'rifat", in various regional and district newspapers. World almanacs in Canada, -2017 in Dubai WBA 2018 "Turkish poets of the world" (Buta 3) 2019, "Muhammad Yusuf izdoshlari" 2017 almanac. She published her book "Ismsiz tuigular"

THE DREAMS ARE HERE… 

The night bird, 
He is a digger, 
takes out the gloom of the echo, 
spokesperson of the infinite and sings to the void

The dreams are here 
as an unavoidable step
Like attractive craters, they opened, 
long before the floods and the light

My fragments tremble, 
they look at me in gerund

Your heart washes the wound in my head, 
moving on tiptoe... 

He does not need the Abaco of my words 

Your exile is an amputation, 
Not programmed. 

My exhaustion a solar eclipse
That on the knees of the world 
a staff of your music falls apart and disappears, 
food for my soul

I mourn you in my insistent side and ghost. 
in the asylum I will see the birds. 
before they run away
 
Your sun will always hide in my eyes
I don't say goodbye, because 
goodbye offends the distance

We'll meet 
When love does not exhale that bitter perfume, 
in the ataraxia night of return.

GRACIELA NOEMI VILLAVERDE is a writer and a poet from Concepción del Uruguay (Entre Rios) Argentina. Based in Buenos Aires She graduated in letters, author of seven books. Poetry genre. Awarded several times worldwide. She works as the World Manager of Educational and Social Projects, of the Hispanic World Union of Writers and the UHE World Honorary President of the same institution Activa de la Sade, Argentine Society of Writers. She's also a commissioner of honor in the executive cabinet IN THE EDUCATIONAL AND SOCIAL RELATIONS DIVISION, of the UNACCC SOUTH AMERICA ARGENTINA CHAPTER.