Conflagrations
You there, seated opposite me, within reach of love,
May I borrow your smile
Long enough for a poem?
Occasionally my sorrow betrays me,
And I see you
Sailing off, a resplendently silent prince.
You are, simply put, my alter ego.
You force me to don my disappointments
And strip streets of their astonishment.
I live with you when dreaming
And quit you while awake,
To say:
How miserable love is to envy us
Till we find no legal lifetime in which to confess to one another
We’re lovers
. . . . .
Many peoples were said to agree on this, and
Their most forceful version has been total silence;
You find no one who substitutes a drizzle of words for it.
. . . .
How astounding the results are when you’re the one by whom I measure myself,
I, who possess more sorrow than I can expend.
Note:(Gardenia Perfume)
I say your name and acknowledge your existence, not that of other folk;
…………
It was said: a woman once donned confession like a sash
And met the wave’s crest to announce:
“Praise God Who created me with a tongue to voice my love for you, a heart enamored of your shadow, and an eye that sheds only hot tears. Praise to Him
for making you my lover, even if you are separated from me and unresponsive to my plea.”
Then the sea appeared to her as a question:
“Why do I see you dissolve like a grain of salt that water melts with its sigh?”
She replied, “That’s because I gazed into eyes you haven’t seen.”
. . . . . . . . . . . .
The holy fool, strolling through the bazaars of Kufa, would become enraged when he saw her.
“You pawn hearts!”
He scolded her.
“How is it that plains, which only you turn green, are not you?
When you’re always waving farewell to us,
Isn’t bad enough that you leave us behind?
It was said: She turned away from him and ignored what was rumored.
It was said: She garnered what joy she could
And inscribed her grand names on a plaque
She mounted on the back of Separation
…..
In another account we find:
The holy fool shunned joy for many ages
And began to beg for clouds of tears;
It was said: banners raised over the heads of the witnesses
Still weep bitter letters.
Then blistered griefs crush me.
Faleeha Hassan 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 26 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 language. She was a Pulitzer Prize Nominee in 2018,
PushCaret Prize Nomination 2019.
Member of International Writers and Artists Association.
Winner of the Women of Excellence Inspiration award from SJ magazine 2020,
Winner of the Grand Jury Award (the Sahitto International Award for Literature 2021)
One of the Women of Excellence selection committees 2023
Winner of women the arts award 2023
Member of Whos’ Who in America 2023
SAHITTO AWARD, JUDGING PANEL 2023
Cultural Ambassador - Iraq, USA
Email : d.fh88@yahoo.com
REASONS FOR MY SUCCESS
If a person achieves some kind of result in the world, his parents, teachers, and relatives will definitely support him.
The key to my success in life is my parents and teachers. They have always believed in me and are always by my side. They always support me when I achieve something.
My father, being a school teacher, created a lot of conditions for us, his children, because they want us to become mature staff in the future.My father teaches physical education, so I have a special love for sports, especially table tennis, checkers, chess, volleyball, etc.I got into sports through them, that is, I took a step and achieved many results, I got 1st-2nd places at the district level, at the regional level.
My father always gives me motivation: they encourage me by saying that you can do it, you can play it.My father is happy with my every achievement. I always try to make my parents smile.I always want my parents to be proud of me.
My teachers are also the reason for my success in life.To this day, I have learned from many teachers.including my first teacher Pirmatova Shoira. She is the person who introduced me to letters. She made me interested in knowledge from my youth.
Another teacher of mine is Saidov Javlon, a german language teacher. I see this person not only as my brother, but also as my real teacher. Through him, I gained a lot of knowledge and achieved results.For example, in the 9th and 10th grades of German language, I took the 2nd place in the district and region and received a monetary award. In addition, my school team and I won 75 million soums. The main reason why I won these awards is my teacher.I think that these achievements are a great achievement. Even now, I regularly practice german with my teacher.I try to live up to the trust of my parents and teachers.
My future goals are that I will always help others in life, find my place, become a professional specialist, and strive to be the child my parents dreamed of.I realized in life that when a person wants something seriously, he will definitely achieve it, because such a desire was born in the spirit of the universe. Every person was created for this reason in life. If you set a goal, you must achieve it, so do not stop working.The whole world is with you, don't forget that. I would like to thank the people behind my success and give them a reason to be proud of having daughter and students like me.
QURBONOVA GULSANAM Ilhom daughter was born on April 16, 2006 in Dehkanabad district of Kashkadarya region. She is currently studying in the 10th grade of school 68 in Dehkanabad district. She has achieved many achievements to date: in education, sports and others.her articles are published in international journals.
QURBONOVA GULSANAM was born on April 16, 2006 in Dehkhanabad district of Kashkadarya region. She is currently a grade 10 student at school number 68 in Dehkhanabad district and is proud of the regional German language. She has also achieved many results in sports, table tennis, chess, checkers.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
the neon nights of my youth
listening to an
old elton john
song
thinking of the
neon nights of
my youth
where the drugs
lifted me to
endless heights
where the drinks
made me invincible
where women
seemed to still
be interested
where the yellow
brick road seemed
like it was still
possible it always
existed
-------------------------------------------------------------------
drink for courage
some people drink
for courage and
others are trying
to cope with the
pain of life
some like to unwind
and others think of
the magical powers
they suddenly posses
i find it more likely
these days that i'm
drinking to hopefully
end all of this way
sooner than the
powers that be
intended
plus, arthritis has
made it rather
difficult to hold a
gun or tie a fucking
noose
so, it's either the
bottle or a good
hose and some
duct tape
when the bottle stops
helping to write these
poems
be kind enough to
check my garage
if you don't hear
from me for a few
days
-------------------------------------------------------------------
the retired life
two cups of coffee
fall asleep in the
sun like a cat
i tell my mother
to enjoy the retired
life
she doesn't
can't come to terms
with getting older
and not being able
to do certain things
alone
i'm always there
to help
even though most
of the time she
doesn't bother
to ask
i tell her pride
will kill her faster
than any disease
---------------------------------------------------------
wars have been fought over less
soft brown skin
years of regret
a lover's lament
it was us against
the world
now we can't see
past each other to
accomplish anything
wars have been
fought over less
and no matter how
much either side
wants to give in
and let the calm
set in
pride and the ego
always get in the
way
a lack of
communication
will be the end
of us all
-------------------------------------------------------
the smallest nugget of joy
you ever noticed
the death poems
come easy
but how you
languish over
the page for
love
for happiness
for even the
smallest nugget
of joy
but death
that cold reality
the cruel mistress
that always laughs
at your pain
it's the old routine
or perhaps
you always
understood
that death was
always a part
of life
just a part that
most are unwilling
to talk about or
even consider
J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is old enough to know better. He’s been widely published over the last quarter century, most recently at The Rye Whiskey Review, Disturb the Universe Magazine, Carcinogenic Poetry, Lothlorien Poetry Journal and Horror Sleaze Trash. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)
+
Where nature walks
If a tree falls
but no one listens
then there is no peer review
Sometimes attention catches natural presence,
like flowing water turns the mill's wheel
to bring flour from grain.
The kitchen supplies
find
peer review
at the dining center.
Who's is speaking?
My Heart Speaks!
Love has an invitation open to its Kind.
The peer within
as freelance
expressing
found standing in faith
The forest speaks where faith raises ears
The fallen tree,
Bless Thy Heart
May seed freshen
Soils and sun share the expression!
Where nature walks
by John Edward Culp
Friday morning
October 27, 2023
MULBERRY TREE
Mulberry trees should not be planted near the house,
Not even a walnut tree.
Their veins are demonic
And if they scatter, the house will ensure to stay deserted...
In the morning, the mulberry tree was wounded.
Shadow lay dead beneath him for hundreds of lost birds.
Only goats ate his flickering tops,
Which are until yesterday
It could only be reached with the eyes...
Azemina Krehić was born on October 14, 1992 in Metković, Republic of Croatia. Winner of several international awards for poetry, including: Award of university professors in Trieste, 2019.,„Mak Dizdar“ award, 2020. Award of the Publishing Foundation of the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina, 2021. „Fra Martin Nedić“ Award, 2022. She is represented in several international anthologies of poetry.
HOSPITALITY
I came to school very early that day. I went to a teahouse to pass the time. When I looked, a plate of "gumma" was placed in front of me, and my neighbor Abdullah, who studied one grade above me, was sitting.
"If you're hungry, bon appetite," I said sarcastically.
Hey, Aziz, you came on time; who can I invite? He stood up and pointed to
the chair next to him. I hesitated.
"Don't hesitate; there will be more than both of us," he said with a smile.
For example, like those who are hungry,
I am on duty at school today. I have to come early and leave after everyone
else. I wasn't hungry. But many are doing it.
Let's sit and eat before it gets cold.
"Now I'm eating the food with appetite; two more classmates came to help
me... After we were full, we thanked Abdullah and got up. Abdullah went to ring
the entrance bell.
We have a wonderful friend; he is very generous, - said Botir.
Even if I don't eat at home, I'm not afraid of going hungry. I trust Abdullah, -
said Hojiakbar.
"A great boy, no problems, a real gentle and kind boy," my classmates said.
I agreed with them and nodded my head.
But then I thought: Is Abdullah doing the right thing? After all, he is not making money yet. He sometimes takes money from his elderly grandmother, sometimes from his father. Abdullah has a big family. He is survived by three brothers. Therefore, if he spares the elders and does not ask for money in vain, his father's money will be saved. And the saved money will be spent on the kindergarten of his brothers to cover their lack of livelihood!
Isn't that so? What do you think, dear reader?
To deflesh,
the shaman,
the seer,
the mystic
lacerates,
purges,
starves,
punishes,
isolates
the body
of the self.
The poet,
inventor,
entrepreneur
concentrates
the body
of the self
on the solution
of a problem
like a laser
microscope,
to deflesh.
An ordinary,
to deflesh,
removes from
the flesh
of the body
by reading,
by dreaming,
by jogging,
by gaming,
by giving,
by loving.
SACRIFICES, ALL
That pilot brags about
the size of his payload
and he forgets about
chasing a horizon.
He imagines himself
to be a volcano.
Will you permit yourself,
then, to be the virgin?
Oh, those gladiolas
that brightened Pilate’s halls,
like those gladiators,
distractions from trials.
RICHARD FIRST
Across geographies
maintaining emperors
by cults and soldiery
has been a commonplace
matter of procedure
against the populace.
Richard had good PR
since he was popular
among the troubadours.
And today, presidents
who can stay in power
are liked by journalists.
SIGNS
The philosophers,
poets, and scholars,
workers of the mind,
invented Mankind.
They made Being firm
by creating terms
and categories,
the mythic stories,
right words and patterns:
They shaped God Saturn
and then mere planet:
Elements: Senates:
Beauty: Gram: Language:
Society: Beige:
History; Prisms:
Patriotism:
Sin: Geography:
Self: Heredity:
Time: The unconscious.....
The list is endless.
These concepts define
our world by their signs.
THE CONJUGATION OF AGING
Years are no series of jumps across gulfs.
We pass through life on a conveyor belt,
paying little notice to the timelets
that pace our course on the running machine.
We only slowly accept we're the guests
of Is, Are, Was, Were, Be, Being, and Been.
Our exercise machine slows then ends
before we realize we've reached the When.
