Piano
The faint piano desk at my back
The church prayers of oblong hault
Numerous passengers thronged through
It came a virtuous glance
The rain smelled of Piccadilly
The London traffic, the Paris rainbow
All imbued on a harmonic tribe
I came and saw the victorious mansions
The fairy tale chiaroscuro of uncharted lamps
It is a place of folly of penmanship and a little trinket
I perched on the jammed trampoline
The loneliness ever growing on
As the peace was costlier than love.
Don’t Lie to Me, Mother
I know you wait for me with hope so bright,
You cry in silence deep into the night,
Just one request I ask with all my might —
Don’t hide your pain inside, my dearest mother,
Don’t say “I’m fine” and lie to me, dear mother.
No matter what — please tell me, let me share,
Let me be your healer, show I care,
Let me be the shield you always wear,
Don’t hide your pain inside, my dearest mother,
Don’t say “I’m fine” and lie to me, dear mother.
Without you, what would this world mean to me?
Without you, my days would empty be.
Tell me your sorrow — I beg you, set it free,
Don’t hide your pain inside, my dearest mother,
Don’t say “I’m fine” and lie to me, dear mother.
In every word, your kindness I can trace,
In every glance — deep love I still embrace,
To me, you’re life’s most sacred, tender grace,
Don’t hide your pain inside, my dearest mother,
Don’t say “I’m fine” and lie to me, dear mother.
When you smile, my heart is full of light,
When you tear, my soul weeps through the night,
Your son Ozodbek thinks of you each night,
Don’t hide your pain inside, my dearest mother,
Don’t say “I’m fine” and lie to me, dear mother.
Ozodbek Narzullayev was born on December 20, 2006, in the village of Bo‘ston, Koson district, Qashqadaryo region. His works have been published in several anthologies. He has participated in numerous creative competitions and has won top prizes. He is the author of the book titled “The Heart’s Emotions.”
Revolution
We are holding out for a hero. With our forehead carved of multi versa wisdoms,
Sent rowing on a boat designed for a destined night
Stuck in a time lapse of revolutionary haibun
With a soothing arctic cooling of illiteracy volcanic tears dripping on a night breast
Calming flames of corruption
Ascending on a house of cleaning the world dark stains
Said as he who calm anger with knowing,
He who freezes the magma flow of belittled burnt on nightmares
He who spreads wisdom like wild fire. Wouldn’t sought barricades on a night songs face
Hamza Kamar is a 16 years old Nigerian poet, painter, and Content Creator. currently studying at Legend International School. He is also member of Hill-top Creative Art Foundation (HCAF).
GAZA’S HUNGER GAMES
If you live in Gaza,
hunger is your meat—
hunger for coexistence, for peace.
A banquet of fruitless craving.
Bombs rain down on hospitals,
on volunteers bringing food,
on those who own no weapons.
Listen. Children are whimpering—
hungry children chew leaves,
children wave arms and legs like sticks.
If you live in Gaza,
hunger is your banquet, day after day.
Empty bellies greet dawn with despair.
Babies die because famished mothers
have no milk. Both are weeping.
Nations feed Gaza’s people bold words,
a feast of empty promises.
But all that’s real is hunger—
wielded like a broadsword,
cutting down emaciated neighbors.
Powerful men grapple for land
by withholding compassion–
until their own humanity wastes away.
Troops are reduced to stick figures:
us wiping out them.
In Gaza, both predators and prey
are slowly starving.
Starved souls wage war by starving the unwelcome.
If you live in Gaza,
hunger is your last meal.
Haeun (Regina) Kim is a student writer from Seoul, South Korea. When not creating visual works, she can be found writing and struggling through amateur ballet.
All in sleep
Exclamation mark drifts
White lies of snow scattered
I’m throwing sweat in the dry river
Weighing acid in the ocean and on land
Today there is so little dying at the twilight
I am losing the threads of my ancestors
Grandmother is sewing the hems of frayed
Pe(i)ace and relations
In the evening, I count the missing hills
Losing the aesthetic of appreciating
Nothing. No names, no lands, no flowers,
no birds, no animals. Nothing, nothing.
I am a half animal, half cancer, half-life and
half death wherever I go
there is emptiness, a lifeless desert
Breathing smoke like
Buzzing chiming mobile and TV
Everything is available in a mouse click
Money exchanging life in the night
We have been earning and paying
For what is useless?
The truth is nothing
For sale, exchange offer,
Language of broken
Thoughts divided by lines
Tenacious memory like oil on a turtle
The violent angry sun is stomping the sea
You took a pill to drug the drought mind
All in sleep
Colonizers
Not poor but plundered
Chor bazzari of
Gold to be held
Booty looty
Extracting, desecrating, devastating
Land
Glory is dripping blood
The sun never set for it didn’t trust your macabre deeds
By the by, whatever in the name of civilization
You faked it till you traded it
You, what shall I name you?
Thief, thug, plunderer, murderer
History’s revenge or remedy
Don’t point your finger
We are here because you were there
So, bro, I wanna wanna
In the beginning, there was a sigh
I eat and drink with the tongue
That pained my experience
Gone, gone my
Language
My words tried to
Find
Space
I seek mother
Tongue
Dream/nightmare of confused
Language
Speech
An answered question
With white lies
Woman
In passive voice an object
One word indelible in memory
History means inquiry in
Language
On skin
Speaks silence?
Simple Maths
The whole number of our lives is zero
Suppose the value of a person is zero
Suppose one common man meets another
It’s 1/0=0
When Two B *B
It’s equal to E
If A accuses B
B cancels A either by dividing or by subtracting
One thousand guns = mass shooting
80% plastic = Greed
Money > relations
Kindness <violence
Green _Green = concrete
War +War=Insanity
If we run at this speed/Km
Our end is near
Colour
Nothing is mine
Land. Love. Life.
The colour of my skin, my flag, my land,
my name, my blood, my flesh are
not mine
Longing heart, not mine.
My language is colourful too.
Yet it lost its fragrance in the market.
Tired of strolling, it brought RP.
My mother in her lost her tongue, is pronouncing her land.
Her eyes are losing their colour as land.
The paper I carried. My identity is discoloured with time.
The sepia of the frayed paper is slipping.
Time coloured the paper and life.
The forgotten colour of falling time has ripened.
Now, the bells are ringing.
Pulkita Anand is an avid reader of poetry. Author of two children’s e-books, her recent eco-poetry collection is ‘we were not born to be erased’. Various publications include: Tint Journal, Origami Press, New Verse News, Green Verse: An anthology of poems for our planet (Saraband Publication), Ecological Citizen, Origami Press, Asiatic, Inanna Publication, Bronze Bird Books, SAGE Magazine, The Sunlight Press and elsewhere.
Moon
Looking your light
Feeling the energy of brightness
Moon
My full moon
My wishes are in your hands
Moon
My moon
Crasy maybe they call me
But deep down
I see my self in
You
Like a magik mirror
As Hercules
As Zeus
Strong enough
To fight with witches
With giants
And dragons
Moon
Beautiful moon
That you are inspiring
Poets
That you make lovers
Promise faith to eachother..
Moon
Full moon
Mother of sky
Sister of stars
In my heart
Whispering the
Little nymphes
Of night
Moon
Full moon
Unchain my past
Free my future
Today
I become
The Master of my path…
Eva Petropoulou Lianou, international poet and official candidate for the 2024 Nobel Peace Prize