The wind 

A cold wind started,

The riot is in full swing.

You can see reflection 

In the wave of lake water.

Branches of trees,

It was covered in dust.

A fly in a birdʼs nest 

It cannot fly.

Traits are in the wind,

They flew without stopping.

Didnʼt remain in own place,

They moved to another place.

From a bunch of trees 

The faces of the flowers were 

flushed.

Due to the anger of wind 

The ground become blue.

From the bite of the wind 

There was a lot of damage.

Since then it has been windy 

Pushed aside 

Niginabonu Amirova 

Woke Up

Woke up, woke up

Don’t sleep and say ‘shut up’

The word l say is not dark and turmoil

The world I offer is not waste soil

Trust me and touch the heavenly light

Hold beauty as you can in your sight

There is no question mark between you and me

There is no truth that hides us in the sea

Our souls are loving, pure and merciful 

Look the world where everything is beautiful 

There is no promise but only greatness of love

The sky adorns to invite the dove

I love you beyond the beauty

I needn’t to know why the seas are salty

I love you with everything l know

I shall teach you how to flow.

We are never in hell’s darkness 

We won’t fall from heaven in any case

Our shadows are in the same envelope 

That never be bought from worldly shop

Don’t say to prove the sun

Only l love and there is none.

Let woke up and woke up from the dust

You can’t be far away for different cast

You are brighter than cast forever

Only l know well who you are

God has created all man and woman

Let you love me as much as you can..

Love is Not a Clouded Moon

The space of heart is limited

Where love is not imitated 

Man is like machine

As relationship is very thin

Love is nothing but only a pocket word

People pass without love and God

Man is not man but a creature

There is none to give real signature

Time is wasted in vain

Everything is in chain.

Where is the land of peace?

Where shall l give my virgin kiss?

A heart is not true where money grows

The smell doesn’t matter if it is a rose.

Love should be pleasant for all

It must be natural and very normal

It is not a fallen star

It is a heavenly matter.

If you love anyone you are not too late

Pure love is the key to heaven’s gate.

Love is not a clouded moon

Please say ‘l love you’ soon.

I miss you dad

The pain of longing hurts me every time,

I miss you, dad.

Even if you leave without coming back,

This piece of land is burning like sand.

The dagger of longing pierces the heart.

This torment torments me,

Spring has come, spreading its flowers,

I will open my mouth and tell you,

Death gives everyone one day,

My grandfather passed away

Bright faces look at the sun,

Now my grandfather is close to ALLAH.

Dad, you used to dream,

Your daughter like me always understands,

You used to wipe my tears

You were always an encouragement.

Go against the commandment of ALLAH

I always see you in my dreams

You are always a slave who wrote poetry

Doomsday friends,

Dad, I miss you so much.

A hundred years pass, but I remember you

I cry remembering happy moments

Why don’t you come back to me now?

daddy i miss you so much

I miss my father and write poems

Let the river laugh at my poems, my autumn age

May you rest in heaven, my God

Dad, I miss you so much

Kodirova Barchinoy Shavkatovna was born on September 15, 2008. She is a 9th grade student of the 15th general secondary school in the city of Karshi Kashkadarya region and is 16 years old.

 

Part 1: Disregard the Man

Euphoria with every breath?
He’s underwater waiting for his lungs to fill.

Four of five are men
But she’s the one they cry for.

Men’s corpses sink.
From weights that couldn’t be lifted.

Men, too embarrassed to ask for help, too hurt to live.

“Those weren’t real men.” “It’s their fault!” “They weren’t strong enough.”
The men drowned
And the bodies rotted.
While the passersby held their breath.

                                                       Part 2: The Cycle

The boy was taught to treat girls kindly.
Because he was born into a man’s role.
While the girls were taught what to expect from men.
And the women made the boy apologize for being born.

So the boy drank at the bar, cowering from his son who needed to cry
Like his father had before him.
But he drank his tears away,
Like his father had before him.
And right before him lay his father’s corpse.

The boy repeated his father’s last words in his head. “I see you.”
Tears dripped onto the father’s blank face.

“ICU,” the boy repeated.
The boy’s gaze shifted from his father’s face
To the direction his father faced.
He drowned in his tears.  
Matching a shade of the oceanic sign 

which read, “ICU,”
“Intensive Care Unit, section five, room two.”

Gabriel Kang is a ninth grade writer and aspires to become a professional rock climber. At Ruth Asawa SOTA, (currently majoring in creative writing), the lesson plans are currently covering poetry. Through this group, he’s learned to create and grow his own writing voice and has been actively getting stronger as a writer. While in rock climbing, he attends nationals every year, competes in open categories, and is always challenging himself. Through rock climbing, he relieves his stress and takes action towards his goals, while also further enhancing his writing skills from the creativity and growth mindset the sport provides.

Marry You?!

You are
Unlacing my heart’s matrix
You are
Brittle lacunae in my bones
You are
Baffled buffoon in my box
You are
My balatron from Barnum and Bailey
Sputtering Inflected infected lexemes and locutions
Morphological languid linguistics
Brought down to ex haus tion…
Having ab  sconded from your flagRant lips
All flags are waVinG wAr nings in wailing w inds
Like a mal adJusted jester you jUst sit there
Barely jEsting
Like a Therapist on Theraflu
So what am I to do?

Trounced goaded by your giant girth

Inside I am screaming!

Like a trapped Slattern to a pillory

Sh irking fictitious flames stolen from Zeus!
You are an onus to my sanity

And an anchor to my vanity
So the answer is NO!
I don’t want to marry you!
You are a bawdy brawny bozo!
As we say in French:
“Un grivois sans voix…”

Yet still you are MY burly brethren boor…

Giving fit formidable dry thumps… ˈyəummy-
Come here…you BIG dumb c*m dump!

On dine ensemble ce soir, chéri?

Jacques Fleury is a Boston Globe featured Haitian-American poet, educator, author of four books and a literary arts student at Harvard University Online. His latest publication “You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self”   & other titles are available at all Boston Public Libraries, the University of Massachusetts Healey Library, the University of  Wyoming, Askews and Holts Library Services in the United Kingdom, The Harvard Book Store, The Grolier Poetry Bookshop, Amazon and elsewhere. He has been published in prestigious publications such as Muddy River Poetry Review, the Cornell University Press anthology Class Lives: Stories from Our Economic Divide, Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene among others…Visit him at:  http://www.authorsden.com/jacquesfleury.

Billie Holiday of the Burning Sky

billie holiday of the drifting light

struck dumb by the sea of love

burning through sad long days

roots of spring demons

the heart of sunlight

softly singing.

The Lord of Pity & Barbed Wire

is not far away

the moonshine resurrection

of agony

piled high

yesterday

the air

blew jazz songs

from a dead church.

Telegrams from a Chicken’s Neck

leroi jones died today

long pauses of morning

my clean laundry

hidden in loneliness

your tent of reason

in the name of charity

my father did it

for the glory

of regrets

we all have a cold

the alarm

doesn’t give a damn.

John Dorsey is the former Poet Laureate of Belle, MO. He is the author of several collections of poetry, including Which Way to the River: Selected Poems: 2016-2020 (OAC Books, 2020), Sundown at the Redneck Carnival, (Spartan Press, 2022, and Pocatello Wildflower, (Crisis Chronicles Press, 2023). He may be reached at archerevans@yahoo.com.