Your Eyes
(Dedicated to my son Esteban)
A little piece of me
He was delivered into my arms...
With innocence and joy
You looked at me...
Sky blue eyes.
You gave me life,
I crossed the firmament
And the sea in an instant,
Reflected in your eyes
I understood that those eyes
Sometimes turquoise
Sometimes blue sky
Would light my way
Every time I got lost...
Because you would be
The guide in my confusions.
Mirta Liliana Ramírez has been a poet and writer since she was 12 years old. She has been a Cultural Manager for more than 35 years. Creator and Director of the Groups of Writers and Artists: Together for the Letters, Artescritores, MultiArt, JPL world youth, Together for the letters Uzbekistan 1 and 2. She firmly defends that culture is the key to unite all the countries of the world. She works only with his own, free and integrating projects at a world cultural level. She has created the Cultural Movement with Rastrillaje Cultural and Forming the New Cultural Belts at the local level and also from Argentina to the world.
Once upon a time, there was a nobleman who had three sons. One day he called them to his presence:
My sons, I want to test you. Travel for a month. Spend this one month of your life doing good deeds useful to the people.
He said, “If one of you has the greatest virtue with your good deeds, I will give him the very valuable ring on my finger.”
His sons scattered everywhere and went on a journey. After traveling for a month, they returned to their father. The father asked his eldest son:
My son, what is the greatest meritorious deed you have done this month?
Father, one day I was passing by a garden street alone, and a very valuable diamond fell somewhere. I took it and immediately handed it over to the relevant authorities. The head of the administration thanked me, wrote this certificate in my hand, found the owner of the diamond, and handed it over to him. What I did is a proof of my rightness, isn’t this action the greatest virtue?
answered the eldest son.
His father said:
You did the right thing, my son, you did your duty. But this diamond is not your personal property.
Then the middle son spoke:
One day, I was walking on the edge of a big ditch. At that moment, I saw that a young boy had fallen into the water and was in danger of dying. I immediately threw myself into the water and pulled the child out of the water with great force. I saved him from death and handed him over to his parents. His parents were very grateful to me and blessed me. Even though my life is in danger, I think I deserve your reward for what I have done to save a young child from death.
Father holding his son’s hand:
Good son. I congratulate you; you felt your heart filled with joy just because of this beautiful work, so that is not a reward in itself? – he said.
Then the youngest son bowed to his father and said:
Father, there is a person who always looks at me with hostility and does bad things. Although I have done him no harm, he follows me and even waits for an opportunity to kill me. Last night, I saw my enemy sleeping on the edge of a very low cliff. If he’s sleepily tossed to and fro or woken up by a loud noise, he may fall into a precipice trying to get up. I slowly went to him without making a sound. I held him very carefully and slowly started pulling him towards me. Having escaped the danger for a long time, I continued on my way with high spirits and joy.
His father, filled with tears from his son’s good work, hugged him and kissed him on the face. And he said to his youngest son:
Long live my son! You have the right to receive my reward, because the greatest virtue in the world is to do good for evil, – he prayed, putting the precious ring on his son’s finger.
Bad Habits and Old Addictions
Just when I think I've finally lost them
Convinced they'd never find me again.
There's a knock at my door
Heavy fists pound harder and louder
Yelling for me to let them in
Bad Habits and Old Addictions
Constantly ringing the doorbell.
The Ding-dongs wakes up my weakness
The flaws in my willpower now exposed
To the uninvited influence wearing down my resistance
Bad Habits and Old Addictions
I buried them away years ago
Must've dug the grave too shallow
They've escaped and returned
My resolve losing faith to temptation
Bad Habits and Old Addictions
Our association never matured into a friendship
More of an acquaintance of inconvenience at best
Stained with bad blood
Not one breath of trust
Exhaling air of incessant suspicion
Bad Habits and Old Addictions
Where do I find the courage
to tell them
I'm more than the sum of my mistakes
I'm not the man I once was
No longer devoid of self-respect
Or a festering scab on God's face
Bad Habits and Old Addictions
Now my subconscious is questioning my decision
Sending them away may be a mistake
What's the harm in extending some hospitality
After all they've come such a long way
I'll tell you why they've gotta get Because one is too many and a thousand is never enough
Now head on down the road
get your ass out of town
Don't ever think of coming back
I've fought a long fight to save my soul
Surrender no longer an option
Confidence in the faith to stay true to my convictions
Vete Lárgate
Bad Habits and Old Addictions
Today the post-
woman brought
me the Lone Ranger
& Tonto. Except the
Lone Ranger is
now no longer alone
because he's got
in touch with his
inner self, & Tonto
is a psychic from
the subcontinent &
not a Native American
sidekick. Damn these
shades of gray. What-
ever happened to
black & white, even
when / in color? I
blame Alan Ladd,
playing Shane with
that small man syn-
drome. & Coop, Gary
Cooper, the tall silent
one who learnt to talk
& went off to mix it
with the likes of
Picasso. Wasn't a
virgin Quaker bride
enough for him? You
could see it coming
as it neared high noon.
The hero as a man in
black. Do not forsake
me, I begged him. Ob-
viously he didn't listen.
Today the post-
woman brought
me an unemployed
dancing monkey. Put
me down as some-
one who can't tell
a lymph node
from a lung, but I
think there may
currently be a search
on for organ donors.
Today the post-
woman brought
me the winter
of our discontent,
the Arab spring, &
the summer of love.
Plus an apology
from the bookshop
for being unable
to fill my original
order, “The Fall,” by
Albert Camus.
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.
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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)
