Poetry from Sayani Mukherjee

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.

Poetry from Ozodbek Narzullayev

Young Central Asian man with a baseball cap and white collared shirt.

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.”

Poetry from Hamza Kamar

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).

Poetry from Pat Doyne

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.

Poetry from Pulkita Anand

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, AsiaticInanna PublicationBronze Bird BooksSAGE Magazine, The Sunlight Press and elsewhere.

Poetry from Eva Petropoulou Lianou

Middle aged European woman on a beach by a lake with trees and people in the distance.

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