SILENCE

Silence in me
strikes in lightnings
of the sky, too gray
and destroys my accumulated
fear in the years 
of non-belonging.
Silence in you
does not know my fears
and gets lost in the words 
of unknown people
whose hands cannot
touch the softness
of our hearts.
Don't let me stay silent
because my love is
louder than your smile.
The loudest one.

LIFE

This life is
soaked with tears
and the words are too small
to pronounce
all life in an instant
and my love
hidden in the corners of solitude.
This life is
soaked with tears
and the pain of the past
is stronger
than the impending ecstasy
in the kiss of the night
and my escape is stronger
than the strength of your will.
This life is
soaked with tears
and the joy gets crushed
by the sorrow of the
desperate and disbelief in a
new longing.
This life is
soaked with tears
but today there is a smile
in my eyes
so don't walk away
from my smile .
Don't let the grief
to put out these embers
at least sometimes
when I forget
that this life is soaked with tears.


HOPE

I would like to take
the paths of new hope
and erase my footprints behind
me because your escort is
superfluous before the rising sun.
I would like to walk
the land of solitude
for years
and walk on
the silence of the
pathlessness liberated
of all your words and
deeds. I would like to be
born again
bathed in purity
of my soul
and stand
in front of the starry sky
as a newborn.
And pardon
my rude words
and be patient
because my loneliness
is your loneliness, too.
You are my other self.
You do what I am afraid of.

Jasna Gugić
Translated by Anita Vidakovic Ninkovic

---

Jasna Gugić was born in Vinkovci, Croatia. She is the Vice-President for public relations of the Association of Artists and Writers of the World SAPS; Global Ambassador of Literacy and Culture for the Asih Sasami Indonesia Global Writers, P.L.O.T.S USA the Creative Magazine Ambassador for Croatia; and a member of Angeena International, a non-profit organization for peace, humanity, literature, poetry, and culture. She is also co-editor of the anthology, Compassion—Save the World, one poem written by 130 world poets.

The last important award with a single nomination for Croatia was awarded by UHE – Hispanic World Writers’ Union – César Vallejo 2020 World Award for Cultural Excellence.

Jasna is a multiple winner of many international awards for poetry and literature, and her work has been translated into several world languages. Her first independent collection of poetry was published in 2021, a bilingual English-Croatian edition, entitled Song of Silence. She lives and works in Zagreb, Croatia.

Many of her poems have been translated into several foreign languages and are represented in joint collections. Her poems have been published in magazines in the USA, Spain, Greece, Italy, Russia, India, Syria, Denmark, Brazil, Mexico, Bangladesh, Serbia, Albania, Nigeria, Belgium, China, Chile, Nepal, Pakistan, Korea, Germany and etc.

Her poems are published in so many world-famous print and electronic magazines, journals, websites, blogs, and anthologies like Spillwords Press – USA, P.L.O.T.S. The Creative Magazine – USA, Mad Swirl – USA, WordCity Literary Journal – USA, Medusa’s Kitchen – USA, Atunis Galaxy Poetry – Albania /Belgium, Lothlorien Poetry Journal – UK, Polis Magazino – Greece, Homouniversalis – Greece, Chinese Language Monthly – 中國語文月刊 – China, Eboquills – Nigeria, Azahar Revista Poetica – Spain, Sindh Courier – Pakistan, Magazine Humanity – Russia, Entre Parentesis – Chile, Daily Asia Bani – Bangladesh, Bharat Vision – Denmark, Litterateur Rw, Dritare E Re – Albania, Literary Yard – India, Gazeta Destinacioni – Al bania, The Moment International News – Germany, Kavya Kishor English – Bangladesh, PETRUŠKA NASTAMBA, an e-magazine for language, literature, and culture – Serbia, Güncel Sanat magazine – Turkey, Cultural Reverence, a global digital journal of art and literature -India , A Too Powerful Word – Serbia, Magazine Ghorsowar – India, Al-Arabi Today Magazine, Magazine Rainbow, Humayuns Editorial – Bangladesh, Himalaya Diary – Nepal and Agarid br. 24 and 16, Online newspaper NewsNjeju, Korea, Willwash. wordpress blogzine – Nigeria
 

Tway Ta Work Ta’s City                                              (1292 words)

cooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom   c!

So got to = after turning left on the daily morning’s walk across town to the great big mysterious quasi-archaeological dig-site, onto which we volunteered a year, there’s a mile or three left to go /pins & needles/ over here where everyone coming and going so often remark of the slight smell over here. So slight, that some when first smelling it, stop—to see, then to say, What is that smell? But now, no. Now there’s nothing. Then, when they start walking again, there it is; again; ‘e again; a nag of a smell, so faint it can’t be, and so odd that to smell it, one needs to stop trying to, but that’s not enough, no no no NO. Can’t even be thinking of it. Got to ignore it, but that’s hard to do, because once its been smelled, it’s remembered as the worse smell ever and gets connected in tight with this—eh, how’s it best characterized, yes—this metallicly tasting looking and smelling rot of a place we go past daily, here. And, so. There it is. Just a smell but that’s ‘lso more than a smell. It’s a taste. And a feeling. All up down and up. ‘nd each day got to rush past there several blocks. Trying not to look over ‘cross ‘ll the slime-baked formerly Main street flowing at the black squares and rectangles which used to be storefronts before time piled up, broke down, and rolled in and over smothering this whole town’s Main street neighborhood down. Can’t run stores in this smell—what smell, we smell nothing—oh just wait for it wait, and they wait—no no no, we smell nothing—can’t place it can’t touch it just walk faster past it—sorry, we don’t get it ,why’d all these stores shut down—never mind! Turn around, move away, shift gears toward what’s next, that’s the dig-site no not the smell hitting out from behind no, the dig-site, yes. Reaching there’s what’s important b’ slow down hey now, no—there it is ….. turn around =+= no—yes—oh, at last arriving at the site where the dig’s ongoing, forget everything now that = There’s Crockett, u’re partner. Get your scraper. Get your tools, and, go down next to Crockett and start in on the scraping of long-buried but not no more so boards, rock, steel plating, and big tables down what they say they’ve learned of by all the scrapings done already before {or after? What? Before is after? And after is before? Pity the language the way we torture it down so unjustly, class. Pity it pity. God {sign o’ the cross please} pity it it’s been murdered down so what torture what torment = do experience those + + who never experience to die :plaster: } So thus once back in place thus thus scraping down th’ ‘eelactical dig, say mildly the usual t’s, what’s always to say, o’er to; Crockett.

Crockett.

{eh, scrape. Eh scrape eh scrape and—eh}

Eh, Crockett! Another day another fifty cents, eh? Good morning.

Hey.

The walk down I rushed it over. Rain looked up there like it’ll be-being to come down hard today. Do not like to be drenched. You?

Nope. Do not like to be drenched.

Yah (in time with the soft scraping o’ both o’ theirs raspertools) It was one of those—no, but more properly said say it is one of those days where looking out says back, umbrella today—no, yes, uh? You know?

Yes.

And its like—hey yes bring an umbrella the sky’s really up saying that but what if its not needed and then after arrival it just this “cumbersome nuisance”’s got to be stored up for the day someplace. Know what I mean?

{scraped dust pellets drop steadily to the catch-tarpaulin, below}

Sure. But it didn’t look like it might be raining today out o’er my sky. But I start in from that different direction from you. Guess that’s why. Eh?

Yah. Guess so. Any findings yet today?

Who knows.                             gasp /cracker/ who knows /yes/ who can ever know and /switching fast to say something else that’s not leading to the same old why are we bothering with all this when we know damned well that that that th/{cut}       gasp /crackers/ thank God for the holding back of the back on which it’d be written/like it always/gasp     gasp    awkward suddenly yes next to the Crockett scraping out of unison with their scraping     gasp because as it does     gasp as it always must + being a law of nature as it is + gasp       gasp it becomes silly in the extreme to be scraping in unison when we the big boths of all of the uses here volunteering at this site know it’s just based on some myth of the jungle upon which no sane person would generate so much sweat so much strain of the jungle after about a half hour gasp some’s saying telephone pole lot up there where  :those flats where they tore down what the say was a factory you know /gasp/ how much money’s locked up in those poles /damn/ : I was reading up on that you know it really gets to me somehow look at all /that waste/ all those        fallen        scrape scrape scrape trees its a field of corpses don’t think so well think about it a field of the corpses what dies for no reason    /strain/  in the belly of the break tent a little after ten   /sitting/ with that my same partner all the morning {spouting hall off ‘bout a’ noosed up all nooooosed up noooooosed up ‘n nooooooooosed up some big sweet Willy gotcha! /f’ter all mem-mebra zats woosh it got ‘lready approximated woosh / sat down finally at the bench by the door to the tent, and immediately felt a mild breeze waft o so cooly over their clammy arm-sweat so they pushed over a bit to get out of the flow of it and having successfully milded all this down they chatted brightly over some crackers in bags, and two full-up waters.

plank  

So. Got any plans for the weekend? Or just taking it easy.

I don’t know. I usually don’t plan out ahead that way. Y’know?

Ah. Guess so. /bag chips-crisp back, swallow bag chips-crisp back back back, swallow back unless they come get me say we got somebody in need of a good scare—come and see me—you know /what the hell what/ I’d go get that done if the pay’s right {don’t ya know} or if /what the hell wait/ they came ‘round saying come quick, right now—we got somebody held down needs a big hot flat spanking /huh/ I’d go and do it and probably a bit faster than when I went just to scare the crap out of someone /what the hell wait wait what the hell hell wait wait wait/ cause this time they pointed out they got somebody held down and you know as well as I do that when they say they got somebody held down the one held down’s most likely fighting to get up and the pressure from th’ under-one trying to get up ‘gainst the up top trying to hold down can’t go on forever nothing like that can it’s a knife-edge of balance, its like a new element so exotic, it’s like seventeen baseballs stacked with no props at its like falling alive hey, there’s not much time left so so, no. I don’t have any plans for the weekend. I usually don’t plan out ahead that way. Y’know?

Uh. Sure.

But you. What about you? You got plans?

/whip!/ 

Don’t know. Not yet.

Anyway.

/whip!/ 

Love, The World’s Shape

Love, the box possesses every heart

That switches on the light to walk

The way for laugh

Only can relieve the pain in heart

And for this healing prescription

You can find not a single doctor to sign with

The world is structured round with the shape of heart

Every object serves for each other

Cheers in the bubble

Not to be lost, glints on all the time

Love conquers mountain, ocean or the sky

Its sigh reaches so high, unimaginable

Felt in the eyes

By closing them, blooms the glory.

Chapainawabganj,  Bangladesh

11 July, 2023

My Little Love Bird

You are my little love bird

Fly always in my heart

Sit by me on the couch

Talk and look at the face

Cuddling and fondling each other

We live in the same

And dream for the light

Keep us aloof from death

Always living in the love soul

You are my little love bird

Always fly in my heart.

Chapainawabganj,  Bangladesh

12 July, 2023

My success

It's interesting... Someone causes every person to rise, grow, find her place in society. I also have such people in my life. These are not one, but four people. 

The first: my favorite mother tongue and literature teacher, Sadiqova Hayotkhan. She gave me her knowledge from the 5th grade to the 11th grade. She shared their knowledge with me in every way, . In a word: she was my ideal woman. I looked up to her, because she was very smart and handsome for her age. It was only in the 11th grade that I really hurt my teacher. Even then, I apologized, only superficially. I sincerely apologize right now. If you are reading this article, please forgive me, my dear teacher. 

The second is Jonuzakova Dilbarkhan, a history teacher. My teacher is so enthusiastic, proud, speaks the right words, has a fire in her heart that passes the lesson with all her heart, to be honest, there are few such teachers nowadays. There were also a few in our school. I thank my teacher for the advice she gave me, the sometimes bitter truths she told me. My dear teacher, stay healthy, I love you. 

The third is Kakilova O'ghiloy. My most honored, favorite, incomparable in beauty, English teacher. I was not very interested in English. Thanks to this teacher, I fell in love with English. Every word my teacher said was a law for me. She used to explain the lessons in such a simple and clear way that she would never forget those lessons for the rest of her life. I even had my teacher's lessons in my dreams. 

My dear teacher, who is unmatched in both beauty and intellect, the whole district and province. I had got my teacher such as clever and picturesque. I love her very much. I respect my teacher. I want her to be proud of me in the future. Teacher trust me. 

Finally, the fourth person. I can't say much about this person. Because the person who made me interested in studying and life in general and taught me to set goals and go towards them is my aunt: Isaqova Sevara. I can't thank you enough.

To tell the truth, My aunt thinks about my future more than my parents. She wants me to be smart, a millionaire and a master of my profession in the future. It helps me in many ways, both culture and spiritually. I am proud to have such wonderful and unique people in my life. My life is beautiful with these people. Thank you all for all this my dears...


I'm Nozima Gofurova. I was born in Andizhan on June 6, 2004. I am a reporter contributing to the international UNICEF paper. 

SCREAMING WOMAN

I was five, taken into Arkansas woods, 
where an old couple lived.
They were distant relatives.
They have no names, just images.
I don’t even remember the husband
or the other men who dragged her out screaming.
I was transfixed, flung into a nightmare.
She was naked, squirming, screaming:
“Don’t take me! Don’t take me there!”
Later I remember asking—Take her where?

To the hospital, no ambulances would
go that deep in the woods. 
She had cancer but refused to go.
Act of mercy, her husband finally said okay.
Like a barn razing they came,
four of them grabbed her, 
carried to the old black car,
screaming and screaming. 
I‘d never seen a naked woman,
never used an outhouse
where I  hid before I threw up
and swore I would never die.

For a long time, it was like a dream,
but Aunt Sallie gossiped 
and my adult mind remembered 
like finding out the monster
under the bed was real.



ELEGY FOR WASTED CHICKENS

We already know the way they do it,
squashed in cages, unable
to stand, move, spread wings
until it is their time to become
Wangs or cordon bleu or parmigiana,
make Popeye and the Colonel richer.

Even the defective tiny chicks 
are gassed like baby Jews,
the yellow from the stars
cover their quivering bodies.

 In the cafeteria, my student shouted:  
“Yuck, throw those wings away.
They’re disgusting; I hate them.”
My daughter boiled chicken,
a fat breast and a leg quarter
for her dog, but it was too fatty,
crunched it down the disposal.

Does it matter if the chicken is eaten?
In Chicken Heaven is there a kind
of dignity if you are consumed
instead of a funeral in a garbage bin?





HUMAN BITES

A mosquito is born, a human is born.
Both destined to die.
The mosquito does not know this.
Mosquitos will never think on it,
no concept of prevention.
The insect will just do its blood thing and die.
That is the difference between the two. 
The human seldom thinks of death.
Eventually, the human accepts reality.
When he does, he doesn’t want to die.
He is against dying but realizes 
it’s a futile thought, a deceptive myth,
numbs himself with myriad palliatives—
an apothecary shelf of addictions.
Why do humans, who know they will die,
devise so many ways to kill each other?
The mosquito might give you a better answer.

A recent octogenarian, Vern Fein has published over 250 poems and short pieces on over 100 sites. His first poetry book–I WAS YOUNG AND THOUGHT IT WOULD CHANGE–was published last year and he has his second one coming out soon. He has no Muse; the world of poetry is his muse.

ARROGANT FRIEND (story)

As always I went to school merry. I entered to the gate and I greeted with my classmates . The bell rang . We entered to the class. Our teacher who taught us literature came. We started the lesson as usual . After teacher checked our homework she told us:

-Today I’m happy, because my lovely pupil Ann earned second place in competition. She is very clever and she did the test very well.
-Who? -I asked, shocked.
-Ann ,- she told again.
-What about me ? -I asked again.
-Yeah, what about our classmate Alina ? She had gone with you too…- all of my friends agreed with me.
-She didn’t place . But she also did a good result.
-Congratulations for Ann…- I replied sadly. At that time , a drop of tears flowed from my eyes. -May I go out?
-Yes, go out . She looked to my face and ask: – Are you fine?
-I’m okay.
I ran to the school yard. Hatred and envy covered my heart. I lost myself. 
-Can it be really? Is it possible I lost ? I was cried.
Because in fact incident was like that:
Two days ago we went to a competition which in this competition a special test from various subjects is given and we work on the test. The three students with the highest scores would receive a certificate. The judges distributed the test. Ann and me sat down at a desk. I worked the test exam immediately.  But Ann couldn’t . And she begged me:
– Alina, please also work my test . I couldn’t work it. I got confused . I’m getting excited . Pleasee…
I couldn’t refuse to see that she begged . And I took her test sheet and started working . There was a little time left for the exam. Finally , I finished . But time ran out. I worked out her test but I didn’t get around to working out the last five problems on mine. Exam sheets were received . I was a little upset, but more happy. I thought Ann would thank me for my help. But she didn’t …
Now I’m going to classroom. Just now Ann pointed to her certificate in her hand and went to the school hall. She was arrogant and as usual she didn’t express gratitude . As if she achieved success with her own knowledge and hard work.

ABDULLAYEVA FERUZA HIKMATULLAYEVNA was born on May 27, 2006 in Surkhandarya region Sariasia district of the Republic of Uzbekistan. She is studying at secondary school number 12. A number of her poems , stories, articles has been published in international collectings such as ” Synchronized chaos “, ” Kavya Kishor”, ” Raven Cage “, ” Mt Kenya times”, ” Classico opnie ” and in Moldava , Kenya , Great Britain, India, USA and other countries.

+



    Time Space  for  a
         thought of Place 

    for I am where my Heart 
would tend 
     & Your join in Truth
As Our Hearts thought Blend

    I would talk on Yesterdays 
  gone  by
for what happens then 
  just  moves  Me
 
 Then you're there 
     & We can acknowledge 
               A hint  of trials 

    to dissolve like Candy

  Too Sweet to just ignore. 

   I like what You've Done 
         with  it .

I've forgotten  the  path 
 & need only your Hand 
    from time  to  time 
Where Space  is  a
    thought  of  Place

for I Am  where my Heart 
   Would tend 
& your join in truth  as  Our
 Hearts thought Blend

            Friend. 

                                                      ...........




by  John Edward Culp 
        May 11, 2019