Ah, okay –  But, anyway                            

Hey, great—good stuff, that drink, eh? I can see it in your face. I happened on this stuff while I was down here getting this place built. What do you think of this nice quiet spot here? I had them level this side yard, and plant in this garden space, as a little bonus just for us, while they were finishing up the relocation. I figured, why not throw some money this way? It’s a cool perk. This garden, that is. What do you think?

It’s okay. But—what drink is this?

Ah. How ‘bout you guess?

I can’t guess. It’s—its just good {b-b-b-b-but at that very moment this pleasure’s offset by past experience, that without any exceptions, anything popping up unexpectedly pleasant, that is so unexpectedly pleasant as to be a life-changing breakthrough, as this—drink outshines any prior drink, and God damn it to hell “I can never ever drink another”—only to find very soon after that the unpleasant aftertaste—which bubbles up completely repulsive—says you must never ever try that drink again, Daddy, yah yah no no it is in fact so terrible! Where is a sink? I need a sink! Or water fountain, or something to flush out this taste, and, thank God the evil of this drink? Food? Or whatever made itself known quickly—if not, we very well may have told others you must try  this—you will not be sorry eh will each of your friends try to tell five more friends each to try and them same so ah game being to cover the planet with fans of  this drink drinkers of this drink lovers of it consumers of it tell a friend tell a friend but then they start tell a friend tell a friend tell a friend to grab their stomachs change tell their a faces friend to tell what a the friend I don’t I thought wow this isn’t good it tastes horrible why the hell’d you recommend this to me, GIMI? Were you trying to kill me with this, Daddy, oh, of course you know I don’t mean that literally, GIMI—oh, no you don’t, Daddy? Really really, Daddy? If you really didn’t mean it why’d you do it to me, Daddy, do you always make a point of doing some set number of “meaningless things” GIMI, and if so, Daddy, does trying to poison us me or them with this gasblaster hot tongued overlycrapullar supercloyingone drink, GIMI? Oh, yah, DADDY, yeah that’s so, GIMI, really, really so, DADDY! You are not our friend afterwards are you oh you will be made very very sorry GIMI because each of your former friends will tell five more generating more former friends, DADDY, telling  five more and then five again five again friends the game being to cover the planet with maximum hatred for you yes you DADDY—maybe even a touch past the maximum for YOU–so there. Phew!}

Oh? Is that all you’ve got to say? That it’s good?

Yep. Why?

Oh, no reason. But anyway—as we were saying before—

Jim Meirose’s short work is widely published, and his novels include “Sunday Dinner with Father Dwyer”(Optional Books), “Le Overgivers au Club de la Résurrection” (Mannequin Haus), “No and Maybe – Maybe and No”(Pski’s Porch), “Audio Bookies” (LJMcD Communications), “Et Tu” (C22 press), and “Game 5” (Soyos Books).  info: www.jimmeirose.com,  X id @jwmeirose

alabanza

we will say alabanza

to her loving heart

that always beat

as one with ours.

her eyes melded

into our minds

stone within us.

di su nombre

across the world,

let her breathe

with the sound
of our voices
coming in unison
conteniendo su alma.
she will live forever
in our one corazón
wrapping us tight
with all her love
hoy, mañana,
y siempre.

Oppositely United

Can there be night without day

Can one just work without play

Can one just look up and see the sky

Without being down to say it is high

Tell me which door is the right side

And I shall open the left door wide

When all colors combine to be black

White shall be when all colors lack

Peace comes when a war has ended

War, after peace is taken for granted

Without people what is there to lead

Without a leader people set to bleed

Without worries, weakness, fear

How can courage lift up its spear

From one’s handicaps and weakness

Strength will protect and bear witness

Competitions and challenges around

Conflicts and disputes on the ground

How we desire unity without strife

Without opposites, there is no life.

The Sound of Music

Some people say poets discriminate against musicians.

How can that be, when poets write music themselves.

Every harmony in any arts or science is music in itself.

The music produced can only be heard by brains that resonate with its harmony.

Not hearing the music doesn’t mean that the music is absent.

Arrogance can make one blind, deaf, numb, or paralyzed.

And Nature laughs the loudest.

Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa was born January 14, 1965, in Manila Philippines. She has worked as a retired Language Instructor, interpreter, caregiver, secretary, product promotion employee, and private therapeutic masseur. Her works have been published as poems and short story anthologies in several language translations for e-magazines, monthly magazines, and books; poems for cause anthologies in a Zimbabwean newspaper; a feature article in a Philippine newspaper; and had her works posted on different poetry web and blog sites. She has been writing poems since childhood but started on Facebook only in 2014. For her, Poetry is life and life is poetry.

Lilian Kunimasa considers herself a student/teacher with the duty to learn, inspire, guide, and motivate others to contribute to changing what is seen as normal into a better world than when she steps into it. She has always considered life as an endless journey, searching for new goals, and challenges and how she can in small ways make a difference in every path she takes. She sees humanity as one family where each one must support the other and considers poets as a voice for Truth in pursuit of Equality and proper Stewardship of nature despite the hindrances of distorted information and traditions.

When the Blessing Arrives, You Close Your Eyes

When God gifts you pearls,

you bury them in the forest,

so as not to witness the radiance of beauty.

You scoop up sand in your palms,

letting it slip through the gaps between your fingers.

You believe that forced renunciation is the strength

you’ll gain through prayer.

Perhaps destiny writes history,

but you do not know how to read the language of Angels.

You subtly admire souls, and tomorrow,

you weep in solitude,

unaware that balance in life is crucial,

for it is from euphoria that one falls into depression.

I only observe you, seeing that you refuse to face the truth.

When blessings come again,

open your eyes and do not close them.

Maja Milojković was born in 1975 in Zaječar, Serbia. She is a person to whom from an early age, Leonardo da Vinci’s statement “Painting is poetry that can be seen, and poetry is painting that can be heard” is circulating through the blood. That’s why she started to use feathers and a brush and began to reveal the world and herself to them. As a poet, she is represented in numerous domestic and foreign literary newspapers, anthologies and electronic media, and some of her poems can be found on YouTube. Many of her poems have been translated into English, Hungarian, Bengali and Bulgarian due to the need of foreign readers. She is the recipient of many international awards. “Trees of Desire” is her second collection of poems in preparation, which is preceded by the book of poems “Moon Circle”. She is a member of the International Society of Writers and Artists “Mountain Views” in Montenegro, and she also is a member of the Poetry club “Area Felix” in Serbia.

Violence against Women Grows

The streets are a river of red ink,

each drop, a cry that drowns.

Violence, a monster with eyes of fire,

that devours dreams and leaves ashes in its wake.

Women, withered flowers in a garden of pain,

their petals torn, their aroma, a lament.

Silence, a black cloak that envelops them,

a veil of fear that imprisons them.

Society, a ship that sinks in indifference,

each wave, a blow that drags them into darkness.

Justice, a mirage in the desert of impunity,

an oasis that vanishes with the wind.

But hope, a flame that does not go out,

a fire that burns in the heart of every woman.

Union, a bridge that unites them in the fight,

a path to freedom, to peace.

Violence, a cry that rises in the silence,

a clamor that demands justice,

that cries out for change.

Women, a volcano that

awakens in the struggle,

a fire that will not be extinguished until equality flourishes.

GRACIELA NOEMI VILLAVERDE is a writer and poet from Concepción del Uruguay (Entre Rios) Argentina, based in Buenos Aires She graduated in letters and is the author of seven books of poetry, awarded several times worldwide. She works as the World Manager of Educational and Social Projects of the Hispanic World Union of Writers and is the UHE World Honorary President of the same institution Activa de la Sade, Argentine Society of Writers. She is the Commissioner of Honor in the executive cabinet IN THE EDUCATIONAL AND SOCIAL RELATIONS DIVISION, of the UNACCC SOUTH AMERICA ARGENTINA CHAPTER.

A Migratory Bird

Man flies like birds

Man soars higher and higher

Man with his spirit raises more than we count

The light of the stars twinkling in the sky

Birds have their wing power

Man with intelligence overcomes all

I fly to thee, my loving star

A relation with the moon and the ocean

Always playing a charm of tide and ebb

In this salty flow of tide overflows a new life

Spread the glow on the face

The eyes like the rosy petals

Touches both of the hearts.

Chapainawabganj,  Bangladesh

30 September, 2024

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.