Mirrors Of Winter

Under a dark moon

on an empty road I run

past my frozen breath.

Thinking of her in 

delicate  nightwear

cheaply bought yet

worth a revealing 

fortune when she wore it.

Were we anything more

than a blur of circumstance?

Brought on by trays of

drinks served and emptied

truncated clips of film repeating.

I run past the park of rusty

locked gates, abandoned

as any hope we had at the end.

New tears freeze scarlet

cheeks to a savage burn.

Insane to run when its eight 

degrees at 1 am, but I must

move forward I tell myself.

Until finally home to wonder

in an endless hall of mirrors

cracked in the reflected  truth

of all my past mistakes.

Colder Than The Coffee

After

A brief dalliance

a few days

lasting too long…

We meet

a second & final time.

She said her coffees

getting cold

before adding-

say what you must

no louder than a whisper

I have friends here &

It won’t change anything.

But she doesn’t let

me speak…

There was no going

beyond us being

a footnote with 

every inch a lie.

Undone by words

over politics

calling her mad king

a fascist fool, undid us.

Despite sex I thought splendid.

At this outdoor

cafe with a fine view

of the beach she continues

to talk. Calls me politically

immature and  leftist crazy

while I think of the sex.

This is pointless I say

as she shifts to the border

to illegals and Ice.

.

I look up

almost certain

yesterday’s clouds 

have vanished.

Replaced by impostors

formless as our future

that lasted two evenings.

Undone by the truths of naked polemics

that unlike our bodies-refused to meet.

Winter Frost

It takes half

lost innocent hours

after midnight

but the city

quiets some…

When I go for late walks

my tall shadow’s

lack of jewels and my clothes

many hands past second

on most days, keep

predators a broken

two step dance

multiplied

away.

But tonight

I see a face

grim as an ambulance

time betrayed, just

as late for the

dance with

fortune, slowly

step out of shadows.

Outline of a knife

I see, begin to run.

He tries but can’t

touch my hours

in the gym.

I leave him in the dust

like life has and

keep running past

the exits where

stop signs lie

you’re getting anywhere.

I keep running

In  a cold sweat

this worst of 

a fierce winter

can’t stop.

Closer To Distance

This failure of closeness you claim we have

issues of displacement that all manifest

when you say commitment or likewise words.

That infer or swallow whole both our paths 

divergent in chaos yet somehow blessed

to last and linger past all truths left blurred.

But I’m at a loss when you ask out loud

if we’re adults or sharing its pretense 

not to answer questions, time will address.

Marriage or children, a house, or allow

ourselves a plan to dare the consequence

of a joined future sacred vows may bless.

I’m 40 you say, no longer a kid 

I nod, say nothing that you won’t forgive.

Rp Verlaine lives in New York City. He has an MFA in creative writing from City College. He taught in New York Public schools for many years. His first volume of poetry- Damaged by Dames& Drinking was published in 2017 and another – Femme Fatales, Movie Starlets & Rockers in 2018. A set of three e-books titled Lies From The Autobiography vol 1-3 were published from2018 to 2020.  His most recent book, Imagined Indecencies, was published in February of 2022A new volume will be published in spring of 2026.

The greatest blessing to find,

Is a heart both true and kind,

A magnanimous spirit, vast and deep,

Where empathy and compassion softly sleep. 

And with this heart, a mind that will not bend,

A tenacious spirit, until the very end,

Where storms of doubt and trials we may face,

Will keep us steadfast in our rightful place. 

A spirit strong will not yield,

Across life’s vast unfolding field,

Where hearts entwine, compassion’s touch,

Woven through a hopeful aurora. 

With an unyielding mind, so strong and true,

Through every challenge, rise above, it’s up to you,

With spirits high, beneath an ever-watchful sky,

Push your existence to the heart’s bright aura, nearby. 

In realms where fortune’s whispers softly gleam,

That brightens the soul, and shadows fleeting moments teem,

As clear as morning’s light, a guiding star,

To banish endless nights, no matter how far. 

And seal your life, seal your fate,

With love and strength, forever bound,

In blessings deep, and joy profound.

Amina Kasim Muhammad is a Nigerian writer, poet, with a passion for writing and values her pen and book. She found herself by the way stories could transport her to different worlds and the way ideas could be shaped and shared through writing. She’s a member of Minna Literary Society (MLS). She’s on Instagram as Meena Kasim.

Smooth As Water, Flat As An Envelope

It is rough around the edges
but that will eventually work out-
the water will make everything smooth
and flat and standard like an envelope.

I will let you in on something:
when I was a boy
my parents were octopuses.
Do not task me

with explanations.
I just knew. Okay. It was a certitude.

When I went to sleep my father
had to lie in bed with me.
I had recurring nightmares.
Each night the room was filled
with ghosts who wore red fezzes.
I know it has Freudian overtones,
but who knew then. Not even
my father, who was a human.
I think my mother sometimes kept
him company, which settled nothing.

Anyway, I grew up, you might say.
And I am acceptable,
at least on the surface
and that takes up most everything.

Where I Live

I am not Chinese.
But I am married to
a Chinese woman.
And I have observed over years
that if a Chinese person
comes upon a patch of earth,
they will fetch a pail and shovel,
bring some seeds and plant
a garden. It is all those years of agrarian living.

In my building there is an OC
who had allergies. Instead of going
to a doctor, he chopped down all the trees
and bushes and every living green thing
outside his window and then sat back
pleasurably.

Mao Zedong took care
of the sparrows in China.
It was called The Great Leap Forward.
Sparrows ate grain so the Chinese destroyed
their nests and killed them off
by noise and terror and exhaustion.
Of course, sparrows ate locusts
and when the sparrows were gone
the locusts consumed all the crops.
This was The Great Chinese Famine.

I am very partial to sparrows.
When I approach and they hop off
I find it very gratifying.
In Montparnasse on the steps
of Sacre Coeur Basilica
I once fed sparrows from my hand
and it was secretive.

Talking To The Tree

Looking up at the tree
its heart hanging there
aimlessly still
I could see its
filigree leaves and catkins

planning something:
perhaps to pay a debt
or fill an old order.
There was an idea
doubtless
germinating in
that bound body.
I stopped my aimless
wandering, my body
stiff with age, my hands
in my pockets, empty
but for small change. What would I say to the tree?
If we were in the same world
it was only because of our bodies.
The mind of the tree and its body
were close together.
My mind had flown from my body,
a bluejay screeching
in the uppermost branches.

Kindness and Humanity in the 21st Century

In a world driven by technology, competition, and constant change, the true value of humanity often fades behind the screens of our digital lives. The 21st century has brought incredible progress — artificial intelligence, global communication, and medical miracles — but at the same time, it has created a silent crisis: the decline of kindness and genuine human connection. Kindness, once seen as a natural part of life, is now a conscious choice that must be protected and practiced every day.

Kindness is not just about smiling at strangers or offering help to the poor. It is a universal language that connects hearts and builds trust between people. A kind word can heal emotional pain faster than any medicine. A single act of generosity can inspire hope in someone who has lost faith in humanity.

Unfortunately, modern society often measures success by wealth, power, and fame — forgetting that true greatness lies in compassion. In today’s world, many people are so busy chasing their goals that they forget the importance of simple human gestures. We scroll through social media seeing tragedies and suffering, yet we often move on without feeling empathy. Virtual likes have replaced real emotions, and digital messages have replaced face-to-face communication. But humanity cannot survive on technology alone. Without empathy, the world becomes colder, lonelier, and more divided.

The COVID-19 pandemic reminded us of how fragile life is and how much we depend on one another. During that time, we witnessed incredible examples of kindness — doctors risking their lives, volunteers helping the poor, and neighbors supporting each other. Those moments proved that no matter how advanced technology becomes, the heart of humanity still beats with compassion.

To restore kindness in the 21st century, we must begin with ourselves. It starts with small things — listening carefully, forgiving easily, and helping without expecting anything in return. Educational institutions and families should teach young generations not only knowledge but also empathy, respect, and moral values. Governments and organizations must promote social responsibility and create opportunities for people to do good. Kindness is contagious. When we treat others with respect and care, they pass it on.

Imagine a world where every person chooses kindness — there would be less hate, fewer conflicts, and stronger communities. Humanity’s future depends not on machines or money but on how we treat one another. The 21st century is not only the era of innovation — it should also be the era of compassion. Kindness does not make us weak; it makes us human. In every heart, there is a light of goodness. When we let that light shine, we make the world a better, warmer, and more peaceful place for all.

Dildora Khojyozova is a third-year student at Urgench State University, majoring in Geography. She is an active, creative, and ambitious young researcher with a strong passion for education, honesty, and environmental protection. Dildora has successfully participated in various academic projects, conferences, and writing competitions, earning several certificates and awards for her outstanding achievements. She is also one of the active members of the “Map of Honesty” project, which promotes transparency, integrity, and fair competition among organizations and educational institutions. Through this initiative, she aims to inspire young people to value honesty and social responsibility. Dildora believes that kindness, hard work, and knowledge can change the world for the better. Her ultimate dream is to become a well-known scholar, continue her studies abroad, and contribute to the sustainable development and bright future of Uzbekistan.

At least among the general public, Charles Bukowski has probably been the most influential American poet since World War II. His exceptionally short lines, his abandonment of rhymes and formal rhythms, and his themes (women, booze, gambling, jadedness, and economic distress) have inspired many — especially young men — to follow his approach. This is true for Taylor Dibbert as well. (He even invokes Bukowski’s approval in one of his poems.)

Every entry in ON THE ROCKS is grounded on drinking, whether he is reflecting on his love life, his divorce, the death of a beloved pet, his Peace Corps experiences, or the ordinary, mundane, events of his life — all of which are celebrated or consoled with one or more of his favorite beverages. 

He is asked in the volume’s first poem why he enjoys writing poetry and his reply is personal before it becomes philosophical:

The search for freedom

The examination of pain

Revisiting old scars and

Processing fresh wounds

Readying myself for the fresh trauma and triumphs ahead

And he closes his mediation with a description of poetry’s effect on poet and receiver alike:

The urgent need to get to the point

And the fact that there is nowhere to hide

This statement is, I believe, the appeal for the Bukowski style. There is little or no metaphor, no fancy language, no flowery flights of fancy, no obscure vocabulary. I’m not sure how truly autobiographical Bukowski is — after all, in his work he refers to himself as Henry Chinaski — but nearly all his poems are relatable to readers who have experienced similar events or feelings; the unapologetic persona seems honest to a fault, using language that is easy to understand and relate to on a personal level.

Dibbert here follows Bukowski’s direction. After reading ON THE ROCKS we should all be able to form a clear opinion of Dibbert’s personality, his character, and his history in an empathetic way. 

Taylor Dibbert’s On the Rocks is available here.

The Sun Smiling

At the end of the night the scent of dawn

Say something with a sweet smile

A bunch of roses at the door

Forgetting the pain of the day

Butterflies spread their colors

On the dewy green leaves

Scented with flowers

The fabulous tree of my eyes

The young one

Your rose, gentle smile

In the soft morning air 

The dew-drenched hibiscus glows

Like the sun smiling

Like the sun smiling

Like the sun smiling.

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.

Lots of Linen

First day

In Colombo and

After checking out 

Several stores

And trying on 

Dozens of shirts

He finds four linen shirts

That work for him

Ten minutes

After he pays

He gets a WhatsApp message 

From Sri Lankan Airlines

His bag has been found

And he needs 

To return

To the airport

To get it.

Taylor Dibbert is a poet in Washington, DC. He’s author of, most recently, “On the Rocks.”