The Hockey Pins

The first memory was of a Toronto Maple Leafs hockey pin, blue and white, just the outline of the leaf if I remember correctly. And there was another one, circular with a blue background and a white leaf, again, if I recall correctly. This was all practically another lifetime ago, the late 1970’s and early to maybe middle 1980’s. I liked those pins, and some had a safety pin type apparatus at the back while others had a straight metal part that one put a clip or metal end on. 

A few times my cousin and I walked to one of the convenience stores and bought a pin or two. I can see in the mind’s eye the other NHL teams, smart and well-made pins, twenty-one teams then. I recall The Philadelphia Flyers one, The Washington Capitals, those two especially for some reason. And there was another All Stars one, maybe designating the NHL all-star game held once a year, I think. 

Later, having achieved the highest level for my age group, Major, also called AAA, the teams I played for, Mississauga Blackhawks, Wexford Raiders, and Toronto Red Wings, went on numerous tournaments. Sometimes the organizations gave each player a bunch of pins to trade with the other teams. I’d end up with many pins from all over. I put them on cloth, a few cloths in fact, for safe keeping. These cloths with all kinds of hockey pins I had for a long time but have misplaced them. Sadly, I don’t know where they went. 

The hockey pins represented sport and skill, of the heroes and greats, and later of my teams and travel and experience on the ice against all these teams. That was one level but there was a more simple and yet magical level also and it was the colour and style, the metallic feel and weight of the pin. They could go on jackets or sometimes trucker hats. I can’t remember what exactly made me remember the pins, but something somehow did. Maybe a dream. Maybe something in real life. Maybe some angel of sport or pin or an angel of time itself…

For Dear Eva Lianou Petropoulou

Dear Eva is a woman, a queen so rare,

the one who makes this world more rich and fair,

poetry is her everlasting flame,

and in her work, there is no end to claim.

She lifts up poets from all lands afar,

their verses shining bright like every star,

she knows no bounds, no borders to her art,

for love’s sweet fragrance flows from all her heart.

For poetry she lives, all souls unite,

her deeds reflect her spirit pure and bright,

for Eva is a woman strong and wise,

who conquers worlds through verses that arise.

She shares her peace across the world so wide,

through poets’ hearts where gentle dreams abide,

and so I thank her deeply, from my soul,

for through her, my own verses reach their goal.

Warm greetings now from Croatia I send,

with humble lines to you, both muse and friend,

may we remain, as we have been till now,

united by her poetic love somehow.

THE TEACHER’S DAUGHTER

(Vo Thi Nhu Mai, Australia)

since I was not brought there by chance

but chose the road her footsteps made for me

I lifted chalk as if it were a vow

spoken between the past and what will be

her consistent strength still remains in my hands

something took me years to understand

If I stand now, the place her shadow fell

it is not her shadow, but a kind of light

that stays in the corners of each room

in the desks that are filled with curiosity and youth

in every mind that asks to be believed

the same thirst of knowledge that she tried to spread

fortune did not divide our worlds apart

though hers was framed by hometown and open air

and mine by screens that hum with distant lives

still, something human that is quite the same

the need to be seen without a doubt

to hear a voice say, you are more than this

though I could turn away and choose differently

I follow her career, her mission of education

but from a knowing deeper than what I understand

that love can live in the work we keep on daily

and somewhere in each word I give away

her life continues, powerfully through the passion of mine

Võ Thị Như Mai is a Vietnamese poet, translator, editor, critic, and Senior Teacher based in Perth, Western Australia, whose work spans more than two decades of bilingual writing and cultural advocacy. She is the author of five poetry collections and three children’s books published in Vietnam and Australia and has led over ten internationally published bilingual translation projects introducing Vietnamese poets to global audiences. Her writing explores themes of belonging, memory, heritage, and the quiet beauty of everyday life, blending Vietnamese imagery with a universal emotional resonance. An active member of the HCM Writers Association and the Perth Poetry Club, she is also a committed supporter of emerging writers and cross-cultural literary exchange. In 2025, she was honoured in Spain as one of the Top One Hundred Most Influential Literary Figures and received two Awards of Commendation from the Vietnamese Consulate General in Australia and the Foreign Affairs in Vietnam for her outstanding contribution to promoting Vietnamese culture and language abroad.

A Missile and A Mother’s Lullaby—

A rebellion strikes within me,
Outside, thunder shatters the sky.
Before my eyes, high-rise buildings turn to ash,
Inside, a silent earthquake keeps shaking me.

I stagger, I run in all directions.
Leaves fall, scattering into the sky,
And like cotton clouds of silk-cotton trees,
I drift away into a white, floating realm.

Now I am only a drifting existence.

Yet sometimes I glimpse that familiar path of mine—
A forest wrapped in hills,
Birds flying freely into the open sky.

It is a land of no shortage of vastness,
A field where I can fly as I wish, wander as I wish,
And keep singing songs of love within.

Here, no fire of missiles falls,
No one sets traps of betrayal for another.
Beyond the violence of the earth,
With wings spread like birds,
That floating realm is enough for my two breaths of life.

But in this human world,
Human conflict burns the earth—
Burning buildings, burning soil, destroying lives.

Children startle awake from dreams
At the sound of war stories,
A chill runs through the bones.

In the forest, jackals keep howling softly,
As if even nature is mourning.

Yet a mother was supposed to tell stories—
A lullabying mother,
A soft song for a child’s gentle sleep,
A moonlit face full of peace,
A child like a sky full of stars.

If only I had a life that could dream like that…

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh

28 March, 2026.

Md. Mahbubul Alam is from Bangladesh. His writer name is Mahbub John in Bangladesh. He is a Senior Teacher (English) of Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh. Chapainawabganj is a district town of Bangladesh. He is an MA in English Literature from Rajshahi College under National University. He has published three books of poems in Bangla. He writes mainly poems but other branches of literature such as prose, article, essay etc. also have been published in national and local newspapers, magazines, little magazines. He has achieved three times the Best Teacher Certificate and Crest in National Education Week in the District Wise Competition in Chapainawabganj District. He has gained many literary awards from home and abroad. His English writings have been published in Synchronized Chaos for seven years.

Once when he was in grade ten in 1990, his Bangla letter was selected as the best one from Deutsche Welle, Germany Radio that broadcast Bangla news for the Banglalee people. And he was given 50 Dutch Mark as his award. They would ask letters from the listeners to the news in Bangla and select one letter for the best one in every month.     

From 17 to 30 September, in 2018 he received a higher training in teaching English language in Kasetsart University of Thailand for secondary level students through a government order from education ministry. 

On 06 November 2015 he achieved Amjad Ali Mondal Medal for his contribution in education field by a development organization in the conference and felicitation function for the honorable personalities at Rajshahi College Auditorium. 

On 30 December 2017 from West Bengal in India he was declared a ‘Literary Charioteer’ in Bangobandhu Literary and World Bango Conference and they awarded him with a Gold Medal in their International Literary Conference and Prize Giving Ceremony.

In 2018, he achieved Prodipto Lirerary Award in Prodipto Literary Conference at Kesorhat, Rajshahi for poems in Bangla literature. He received honorary crest from the administration of Chapainawabganj District Literary Conference and Cultural Function in 2021 and 2022 consecutively. 

His poems have been published in many international online magazines such as Juntos Por las L Raven Cage Zine, and Area Felix.  His poems have been translated and published in Argentine and Serbian, and he participated in many international online cultural meetings. 

What Have I Done for My Mother?

The heart that beats within my chest,

Needs no one but my mother best.

O my God, for her I prayed,

For a longer life to be displayed.

Yet I still ask, deep inside—

What have I done for my mother’s pride?

When I’m tired, she holds me near,

When I grieve, she shares my tear.

She works so hard, yet never complains,

Through all the effort, she remains.

Still I wonder, with a sigh—

What have I done for her, and why?

Deep in her heart, she carries me,

My radiant home, my sanctuary.

If her love spreads across the earth,

The world would bloom in endless worth.

Yet again I question, passing by—

What have I done for her, and why?

Sometimes silent, lost in thought,

When I ask, her answer is short.

Her face shines bright, her eyes so pure,

A gentle soul, so calm, so sure.

And still my heart begins to cry—

What have I done for her, and why?

I kiss your feet—my heaven, my light,

May you live long, in health and bright.

May you reach a hundred years and more,

With happiness forever at your door.

Yet I ask myself, I cannot deny—

What have I done for her, and why?

I offer her the light of the skies,

Even heaven’s flowers seem too small a prize.

With hands raised high, she prays for me,

A mother’s love, so pure and free. 

And still I wonder, with a sigh—

What have I done for her, and why?

No words can truly praise her grace,

My tongue falls short, I can’t embrace.

Her selfless love knows no end,

Her care, her strength, will never bend.

Sleepless nights she gave for me—

What have I done to repay her, truly?

Phoenix Whispers of the Ancient Trees

Poem by Lan Xin

Internationally renowned writer, poet and translator, member of the Chinese Writers Association. The only female inheritor of UNESCO-listed Dongba Culture, International Disseminator of Dongba Culture and practitioner of Chinese culture’s global outreach. Winner of the Italian Francesco Giampietri International Literary Award, President of Lanxin Samei Academy and Dean of Yulong Wenbi Dongba Culture Academy.

A thousand years ago

we took root together in this ancient temple

Century after century quietly passed

we became the most devoted ancient trees in all the world

Over this thousand years

through the silent turning of the four seasons

through the unpredictable cycles of life

we have witnessed this ancient temple

rise and fall fall and rise enduring all hardships

We watch beings come and go burn incense and pray

with thousands of wishes in their hearts

Yet our watch has never wavered

not even for a single moment

The butterfly bush blooms pure white in winter and spring

the golden osmanthus shines bright gold in autumn

the red plum blossoms blushing pink in the bitter cold

the Chinese crabapple bursts into rose-red in spring

the incense cypress wears eternal green all year long

Whether the temple is full of voices or completely still

whether incense burns prosperous or only broken walls remain

we stand root to root heart to heart silently guarding one another

Even if the halls collapse and only we are left in heaven and earth

we still firmly believe —

one day the phoenix will come stepping upon light

to reunite with us after a thousand years

Now heaven rewards this thousand year of waiting this endless longing

At last she has arrived —

the phoenix draped in ten thousand rays of golden light

Amidst total desolation she recognized us at first sight

Amidst utter ruin she chose us without hesitation

Amidst broken walls she restored the temple’s thousand-year glory

Amidst silence and loneliness

she made incense burn again and life flourish once more

Amidst the dust of years

she made this sacred land known to all renowned across the world

From this day on

we shall live and die with the phoenix never to be parted

This is the place where the golden phoenix returns to rest

This is the place where the golden phoenix spreads her wings and soars

If the world shall give us a new name

then bestow upon us —

Phoenix Ancient Trees!

Interpretation 

This poem takes the thousand-year-old ancient trees as silent witnesses and the phoenix as a symbol of light and rebirth. It speaks of the deepest bond between human and nature, and writes of waiting, guardianship and faith across time. This is the guardianship of life to life, the call of soul to soul, a great love that transcends race, borders and time.

May this pure deep feeling from the East by poet Lan Xin awaken the truest kindness and peace in the world and let love and light shine upon all humanity.