The Wee Hours of the Morning
The wee hours of the morning,
Awake and softly singing
Remembered love songs
Roosting in the rafters
Of my romantic soul.
Coming from the drowsy land
Of faraway misty realms
Of reality, mixed with dreams.
Sparing me not his smiling lips
His ringing laughter; his salty tears.
I quite float away on beams
Of shining-eyed happiness
Total recall of whispered love words
The raspy breath of morning
Caressing my ears with eager joy.
Is it any wonder that I lie awake
In the wee hours of the morning;
Joy of memory rising to the rafters
Where all my longing goes to roost
On the early morning sunbeams
Pouring through the wonder
Of every dawn I spend with you.
Dreams Remembered
My dreams dog the heels of evening shadows
Darting in between the threads of moonbeams
Descending on the paths of twilight’s ending
As the familiar stars of midnight whisper
From the faraway nocturnes of my girlhood.
Faint are the crescendos the Meadow Lark sings
Through the feathery realms of dandelions
Caught on the passing wind of Fairy wishes.
Softly sing the memory of embers burning
Where the long dead ashes of youth lie cold,
Fading in the curling smoke of lost hope
Pressed between the pages of love poems
In worshipful beauty of a tender heart’s caring
That love would come and never grow old.
Alive, the belief that dreams came true
In the shaft of Holy sunlight streaming
Through the stained-glass windows of youth
To touch the pious head of the girl I once knew.
If dreams could take me back to that golden time
On wings of light; it is there I would gladly fly.
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.
Unbroken sleep
Is it not enough, I am alive
When all hopes and aspirations
Love and emotions
Gone far, far away with thee.
My tears have dried,
Life blood seems to be frozen.
Not a drop of water remains
In the desert of my life.
The sound of life is absent here
No star is glittering in the cloudy sky
Darkness is crawling from all around
I feel an obnoxious smell in the air.
Life-tree is blank, no bird chirps
Roses have lost their colors
Waves of the sea has stopped flowing.
My tearless eyes are looking for thee
But none is here
Everyone is sleeping in an unbroken sleep.
(Manzar Alam from Bangladesh. By profession I am a college teacher. My above poem is composed in memory of one of my dear ones who faced an immature death).
An Interview taken by Ayodeji Michael Adeboboye, a Nigerian International journalist from Jimoh Ibrahim PhD (War), CFR.
*Peace is not the Opposite of War: What Options for the Niger Republic?
By Jimoh Ibrahim PhD (War), CFR.
Part One: Introduction
Peace and war are matters of insecurity. Living with insecurity is the only security, perhaps for those who studied War! Even in the most hospitable circumstances, the human condition is precarious because we are all unavoidably exposed. Human nature is flawed, and perfect security cannot exist in any human society.
Yet to be forgotten even when you may not like him is Hobbes’ ‘state of nature,’ every human being is a potential threat because the struggle for survival in a world of limited resources is a ‘war of all against all,’ Hobbes thought that putting a government in place is an excellent way of guaranteeing security! In a world without a government to enforce order – a condition that Hobbes calls the state of nature – every human must be vigilant against threats to survival.
A world without Government, he claims, forces humanity into a constant state of war because there is no way to trust in the excellent or peaceful intentions of others. We must always be on our guard lest we be attacked. This condition – in which no ruler or judge can resolve disputes and establish security – is anarchy. In an anarchic world, Hobbes argues that our lives must revolve around survival, leaving no time for agriculture, the arts, or sciences conditions of anarchy; Hobbes says, ‘the life of man [is] solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short. But does having a government in the last twenty years make a difference?
This is because and according to me, the Nigeria Boko Haram insurgency underscores the Hobbesian thesis of man’s aggressiveness in the state of nature that requires the leviathan’s intervention. The Nigerian Government’s failure to provide public goods led to the emergence of the Boko Haram insurgency. The citizens contest their rights to life (now in danger), withdrawing their loyalty and support from the Government and the Armed forces. A praxis explains the power shift from the Nigerian Government to the identified local group (Boko Haram). The shift accompanies ongoing violence between soldiers and the insurgents resulting in mass civilian casualties, genocide, systemic rape, and unquantifiable property destruction fostering human insecurity. The above narrative makes the statement relevant that studying and knowing how to live with insecurity is the only security! Insecurity is pervasive in the international realm.
For instance, the international system is anarchic, and no single authority can remit uncertainty. We move from the dynamics of abuse of power as we saw in Darfur, where Sudanese President Omar al-Bashir was charged by the International Criminal Court (ICC) with war crimes against humanity. The violence has also forced some 2.5 million people − mostly farmers and villagers from non-Arab groups – to flee their homes.
So was the American-led Illegal invasion of Iraq in 2003 to the insecurity creation of intervention and collision of the value of security paradigms in human, national and geocentric systems-the intervention in Iraq (1990), Bosnia (1995), and Afghanistan (2001) were intended to preserve the territorial status quo and restore sovereign control to legitimate governments. (In Kuwait, Sarajevo, and Kabul), intervention in Kosovo (1999) was intended to protect the Kosovar (Albanian) minority even at the risk of partitioning the (rump) federal Yugoslav state (Serbia-Montenegro). All are empirical evidence of insecurity globally. Issues of the ongoing killing by Boko Haram and collaboration of the insurgent with the new formation of the Islamic State West Africa Province (ISWAP) and its expanding activities in the West Africa Sub-region. (Where Boko Haram killed the President of Chad recently) forcefully explaining the failure of the leviathan to protect citizens and himself!
in developing countries, what is more, is the powerful justification for our new concern that How to live with insecurity is the only security at least known in the West African sub-region. Is peace the opposite of War? See part two of this article. Again, is Niger a sovereign state to which intervention can be made impossible? What option, war or peace? and is sovereignty, not hypocrisy? See part three of this article. If you miss any part, send an email requesting the missing part to my University of Cambridge life email address ifj21@cantab.ac.uk
~Jimoh Ibrahim holds PhD in Modern War Studies and just completed BSc in International Relations (Second Class Upper Division) from the London School of Economics LSE, the University of London. He holds nine other University degrees from the University of Cambridge, Oxford, Harvard, Ife etc. He is currently at the 10th National Assembly of the Federal Republic of Nigeria as a Senator representing Ondo South senatorial district.
-Jimoh Ibrahim PhD (War), CFR.
Ayodeji Michael Adeboboye
Ayodeji Michael Adeboboye is a Nigerian International journalist with a deep passion for the practice of the Pen Pushing profession. Before he pressed his interest to professional journalism practice, he was a staff of the Daily Times of Nigeria (DTN) PLC, Lagos which at that time was the largest newspaper in Nigeria and entire West Africa.
His fascination in the pen profession compelled him to undertake journalism professional course at the most revered Nigerian Institute of Journalism (NIJ), Ogba, Lagos. He later served as a reporter with a local newspaper; The Key Newspaper, Akure, Ondo State, Nigeria.
Adeboboye a, conceptual journalist, expanded his scope of journalism and in the year 2020, network with professional journalists within the 5 regions of Africa, Europe and America to establish Congress of African Journalists, CAJ – a unique and legitimate journalists of African origin all over the world, fully registered with Corporate Affairs Commission and headquarters in Nigeria.
So far, CAJ has over 30 networks in different African countries and has honourary membership within and outside Africa continent.
His journalism work has been translated and publish in languages other than English. As at today, Adeboboye is the Chairman of the Board, Congress of African Journalists, President, Central Executive Committee and Editor-in-Chief, CAJ International Magazine which has permeated many continents.
Unforgettable Loves
Love lived from afar to afar,
Like an angel sent from the divine,
Neglect it not, for someone's worth,
The beat of your heart, the breath in line.
Daytime's dream within your gaze,
Bestowing moonlight upon the night,
Should the dream fade, unheard it be,
A sigh of that moment, taking flight.
Love known in this world as ardor,
A matchstick tending a hidden flame,
Embers untouched, unburned by time,
Desires held close, their passions untamed.
Life written together with her by your side,
Both a reality and dreamscape combined,
When you find your place, cease to wander,
It's the honeyed voice you've longed to find!
05.08.2023.
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.
Lost Eagle
An eagle wants to soar the sky
Yet overwhelmed by the vastness high
Desire to be out of cage so free
Need to be warm and safe in a nest be
An eagle warmed by the golden sun
Yet rash and burns never been fun
Cravings for the sweetness of nectar
Detest the addiction with no holds bar
An eagle flying for desired goal
Yet struggle with currents running afoul
Fight routes twisting gone hayway
Lost in heaven's blind maze way
An eagle no different from the eaglet
An egg lain for business not nature set
Searching beyond reason's mystery
Yet know its wings has no sanctuary
An eagle forever wishing the sky
Yet caged in anchored from flying high
Desire surgeing wanting to be free
Quite contrarily needing the security in a nest be
Silent Lamb
Scorching wind lashed on the tattered skin
Not to cool but burn right down one's shin
Breeze unwelcomed, fiery ember's kin
On opened wound, awashed in biting hot gin
Light bouncing off a discarded serrated tin
Lazer torch slicing a rotten fleshy bin
Pricking a human bag thousands of a pin
Memories battled, all virtues and one great sin
Heavy log burdened a bloody shoulder
Naked heels on sharp path of crushed boulder
Passage unyielding, shaky feet flounder
Entertainment, for bloodlust to plunder
Sweat and blood to cool a disfigured face
Spittle and slaps, adornment of disgrace
Time and Death impatient in the race
Such a slow, grueling journey pace
So far and yet so near, the goal of a hill
A place where justice is vexed nil
Iron nails hammered flesh holes to drill
Sturdy post raised up, viewers had their fill
Thunder sounds the sky did rend
Shakes and quakes through the ground earth send
Angry insults and curses haters tend
Yet the slaughtered lamb remained silent...
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.
LOVE SET FIRE ON ME…
The love has set fire on me,
I burnt in sparkles, did you see?
You can see the dance of fire,
Won’t you come to rescue me?
Or, are you afraid of fire?
Can’t you come to me closer?
I fell like sky into your world
Which was quiet like the water.
Dry and wet on fire now,
Here, we burning face to face.
We are growing beautifully
In this awesome fireplace.
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.
Oh, My Friend
Oh, my friend,
To be honest, I cannot understand you.
We talk to each other in different languages.
You are always saying something I don’t know
And I always answer: “We are colleagues!”
Oh, my friend,
Race and language do not matter for us
Even social status is not important.
I know that you are also proud with me,
You recite poems of Mashrab by heart.
I read works of Goethe for you,
Verses by Pushkin always make us cry.
Dumbadze, O Henry, and Makhtumkuli…
I recite ghazels of Navoi so high.
Staring with astonishment in your picture,
Even though you do not know who I am,
You follow my words only with silence
And you pray God to ask for a safe world.
Either in Azeri, either in Turkish
Or in English language you send your hello.
Oh, my friend,
I thank you bending my stubborn head down
In the destinations of our pure love.
We have the same goal and the same dream,
We are on the way for the same destination.
We both are sharing the same world to live
Saving this world is our ambition.
Oh, my friend,
May we be always proud,
I hope our children will follow our path.
We have pure dream and greatest goal
Because we possess the greatest heart.
Oh, my friend,
I thank you bending my head down…
RAIN
Rain, You may rain,
Wash this dirty world,
Wash the street of hatred,
Street of envy,
And the evil of our souls.
You may rain,
Let the earth be clear,
Let the tulips blossom in the embrace of hatred,
Never let children to cry in pain,
And wash the hands of ugliness,
Wash the throat of those whose tongue is poisonous,
Rain!!! Expel the odds to the middle of nowhere,
So that they understand who they are.
May the world be beautiful,
May it be full of fragrance.
May stars never fade in the sky,
Rain, Come with hope in every drop,
Actually, peace is the greatest joy.
Rain,
Oh, my rain,
Rain nonstop.
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"
