a rumor in the wind

and this what happens

when utopia was always

a myth

love simply a rumor

in the wind

loneliness as common

as the common cold

longing until it goes

out of style

hard to find comfort

in a land of broken

chairs and high

anxiety

tap the arm twice

and find a good

vein

hopefully

this one is laced

with something

milder

lost soldiers in

a frozen retreat

time not weather

the end came

years ago

no one bothered

to notice

——————————————————————

unremarkable

a doctor after

one of my latest

scans said the

results were

unremarkable

i have a few

ex-girlfriends

that would

agree

———————————————————-

slow and deliberate

hard to watch the seconds

tick away when the clock

is always flashing twelve

do you pick from the

pile of dirty clothes

or the pile of not as

dirty

no one warned you life

gets incredibly harder

as you get older and

the money stops

coming in

it makes it harder to

not figure death is

not the easiest but

the most logical

solution to all of

this

no loved ones to

talk you out of

your common

sense

only a fool waits for

a romantic ending

life comes at you fast

why is death so fucking

slow and deliberate

—————————————————————

broken and lonely

temptation is a beautiful

woman without any baggage

coming along for the ride

reality is every scar that

some dumb fuck put on

her in the past you will

be accused of at some

point

i can’t imagine why

anyone wants to

be with me

not like i am some

angelic soul that has

no scars

broken and lonely

what a way to go

through a world

that couldn’t give

two shits that you

exist

it is an endless agony

hoping for a kiss

sometime before

you die

sure, get romantic

on the verge of

another world war

——————————————————-

at the end of the horizon

whispers lost in the wind

all dreams go to die at the

end of the horizon

fifty cents off two lemons

too cold for lemonade

she told me she wanted

to see other people

i asked if i could do the

same already knowing

that answer would be

what it always has been

crash landing in the

middle of hell

do they even write

home letters to loved

ones anymore

somewhere coltrane

is playing and one

lucky soul will hear

it for the first time

if they only knew

it will be all downhill

from here on

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is trapped in suburbia, plotting his escape. He’s been widely published over the last 30 years, most recently at The Rye Whiskey Review, The Beatnik Cowboy, Yellow Mama, Night Owl Narrative and Mad Swirl. You can find his latest book, to live your dreams, on Amazon by going here: https://a.co/d/0aaEe8ph

A precious man

The nights and the days come and go without a smile

The days are so big without a smile

The nights are a waiting for a call or a message

It is so expensive this time away from your eyes.

You are my precious pearl..

A diamond hide in the mud..

Waiting the time to hug you and kiss you.

You are my treasure hidden from the sun

Waiting the day I meet you again..

Waiting your look..

Waiting your lips..

You are my precious pearl hidden in the oyster deep in the sea.

You are my precious man. 

……….

You

My poem

You,

That the face I did not see for years

You

U are the most amazing being

But cannot touch

You,

The beauty is hiding in  small pieces in your body and mind

You,

I can explain why

But i know my what

You

That one day u crossed my path

  Forces of love or passion touched me

Without reason

I am looking the east

U are looking the west

Miracles happens every day

You

A passion I can live in a privately moment

Love I give

Love will never be understood

You…

In another space of galaxy

You

My ideal

My secret

Garden

You

The moments I never had

You

The distance between 2 countries

A bridge i will try to build to reach you

Good night poem

What a caterpillar maybe calls the end

A butterfly call it the beginning of a beautiful journey…

The stars are so far but we can see the lights

And feel their heat

As i am thinking of you

Days and nights are together

No distance

Only sun

Only Moon

And for once they are together

In this beautiful sky

Thinking of you

The days

Think about you

My heart

My body

My soul

Wake up

And

Danse in a circle

Imagine u are here

Imagine u are close to me

Imagine our life starts

This is my wish

My prayer

As you are my hope

My inspiration

In those long years of loneliness…

Love poem

Your smile… 

I dream a future with you

I dream a blue sky

Sunset to a an island 

I dream a white house

And have a view to the sea 

I dream a future close to you.. 

And i get a bad dream

Sleeping alone

Feeling weak

But in my heart

i am not alone because i feel your heart beat

I feel your breath

EVA Petropoulou Lianou 

Where My School Once Stood

World War 1 was over for over a week now. Peace had been declared after all was gone. We somehow managed to stay strong and hide in the basements below which were dark and hauntingly silent. Darkness everywhere – down there and in everyone’s life. Mightiest of the buildings fell down burnt, hands and heads popping out from rubble. Heaps of dead people were seen – some soldiers, some civilians but everyone a helpless victim. We lost our house, and many dear ones. We were senseless and numb as we grieved our loss.

I went today without telling my wife. I hadn’t spoken a word since days and I didn’t know what to do, what to feel and so I went to my school – the place my heaven before this war began.

I was shaken by a thought – if my school had collapsed, even the slightest hope of happiness would vanish. On the way, I saw the destroyed lanes, and people wailing somewhere now and then. My heart was beating fast – one turn in and there it would be in front of me.

I closed my eyes and stood there in front of it. As I immediately opened them, I slipped into an abyss as the ground swallowed me. The school building was gone – collapsed into powder and stones. I walked over those remains, and now I couldn’t control myself. My lips trembled, and my jaw was completely frozen as I kept my hand on my mouth and wept.

I could hear the school bell ring, and me standing outside the class – late as always. Now there was a test in the second period, and I did my best to copy the topper in front of me without getting caught. I missed those teachers who gave me piles of homework – they were a villain then, and now I want them to torture me again. I missed those social science periods where I used to get my beauty sleep, and those mathematics lectures I struggled to understand. I wanted to dance just like how I did when we were taken to the science lab, but now life has left me with nothing to celebrate.

“Come back my mates – let’s play again and run around, let’s beat each other once again, I want to steal your lunchbox again – your mom makes fabulous sandwiches,” I whispered as my voice broke while crying. All those faces flashed in front of my eyes – so many would have been killed in the war, and I wanted them to come and meet me again.

I bent down as my knees trembled, and took small stones and particles of my destroyed heaven back to the home which I had lost now. What can I say? What is left to say? 

My Son Returned Home 

She has wept a lot,

All tears gone now,

Dried,

Her fate now, her life now. 

Today he will come home, 

Killed,

Behind stood the neighbour, keeping a hand on her shoulder,

Two mothers at the same corner of life. 

They both had come, 

Both of them to sleep forever. 

The neighbour’s son gave his life to his country,

Her son dared touch someone’s daughter. 

Everybody stood there, fake tears in judging eyes, 

They saluted the neighbour,

And looked at her with disgust,

Her stained womb. 

All blamed her,

Raised fingers on her upbringing,

“Poor girl died,

Someone didn’t teach her son morals”. 

Nobody understood her, her life,

The storms she fought to raise him up,

The neighbour’s cry a river of gems,

Her giving birth a crime. 

The neighbour though never left her side,

She stood by her in all those pains,

She wept with her,

She wiped her tears, she understood those, she felt them.

“You have indebted me forever,” she said one day,

The neighbour smiled, only she knew a woman’s duty,

“They be fools, which mother teaches wrong,

Bereavement is bereavement.”  

Shlok Pandey is a 17-year-old Indian writer who is a student of a completely different field and practices writing and reading in the very little spare time he can manage from his studies.  He writes literary fiction and poems focused on human relationships, nature, daily life observations, human psychology and everyday emotional experiences. His stories have appeared in the Wise Owl Magazine, Setu Journal, Synchronized Chaos, The Drift and Dribble Miscellany and Wildflower Post and his poems have appeared in/ forthcoming in The Crossroads Review, cloudymoon lit mag, The Utrecht Pigeon Magazine, Poetic Practice and aesterion magazine. Instagram – @iamshlokp.

EMERALD MEADOWS

In emerald meadows,

where the wind whispers,

Colors bloom,

in a pure dance,

Soft petals,

like silk in the sun,

a mirror of peace

where the soul surrenders

The flowers dance,

to the rhythm of the wind,

In this meadow,

time stands still,

content.

Nidia Amelia García, from Buenos Aires, Argentina, is a writer and an active member of Juntos por las Letras (Together for Letters). She has participated in numerous virtual events in Uruguay, Paraguay, Bolivia, Spain, Colombia, Portugal, Nigeria, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, and elsewhere. She has also contributed to literary anthologies such as “Books of the Immortals” and “Anthology of the 50 Poets of the World 2022.”

Peace

A word
A value
A way of life
Why we are in the middle of a warzone
What makes people fight about

I wonder since my childhood
Why we are fighting eachother
We are same
We think same
We eat
We drink
We fall in love
Why a brother kill a brother?

EVA Petropoulou Lianou 

………………

Nature

A little piece of heaven
Colours
Perfume
Flowers
Trees
Animals
They are all living by God’s law
They are surviving
They get eaten
They are reproducing
But
They never take the home of the neighbours
Only humans are stealing
In all levels
We need to educate our children
We must respect
We need to re educate ourselves
Only then
Earth will be peaceful
EVA Petropoulou Lianou 

Greece

…….

Contact

I forgot what a kiss is The taste of an afternoon coffee.
So as the waves pulled from the land, I feel like a desert ship.

Contact I forgot what that word means, Shipwreck for months In books I look for a meaning to embrace me, to tell me everything will be fine ..
To go and leave those roses in my father’s memory, To light a candle to the Virgin Mary.

Contact, To be in your dream hug Let me see your eyes To smell your perfume I’m looking for that word in that old dictionary

©®Eva Petropoulou  Lianou 

…..

Freedom

A word
Who has all the meaning of…
This is happiness
This is harmony
This is respect

But what we do
Humans are killing humans
Humans are manipulating humans

Freedom ,
A game between two birds without wings

Freedom,
A hope inside two hungry stomachs …

Freedom,
Elefteria
A sun waiting to rise…..

In our days
In our century

We are in need of a second educational system
Re write new words
Or learn the meaning of the old one

EVA Petropoulou Lianou 

A FATHER’S LOVE IN SILENCE

One of the most complex emotions in the world is a father’s love for his daughter. This love is rarely expressed loudly, turned into poetry, or spoken through daily repetitions of the words “I love you.” Instead, it often lives in silence, concern, hard work, and sacrifice.

Many fathers love their daughters deeply, yet struggle to express that love through words. The reason is not a lack of affection, but rather the way many of them were raised. They belong to generations that learned to hide their emotions and to demonstrate love through actions rather than speech.

A father who works tirelessly for his daughter’s future, worries about her safety, or waits anxiously when she comes home late is expressing one of the deepest forms of love. However, daughters do not always recognize this affection because they long to hear it spoken aloud.

The relationship between a father and a daughter is one of the most significant bonds in human life. A daughter often learns her earliest lessons about trust, self-worth, and relationships through her father. His support helps shape her confidence and encourages her to grow into a strong and independent individual.

At the same time, many fathers carry a quiet regret within them: they cannot fully express how much they love their daughters. Time passes, daughters grow up, and life takes them in different directions, yet the unspoken words remain. In reality, a simple phrase such as “I am proud of you” or “I love you” can become one of the most valuable gifts a daughter remembers for the rest of her life.

A father’s love does not need to be loud. Sometimes it appears in a brief glance into his daughter’s room before leaving for work, or in the silent pride he feels when witnessing her achievements. This love may be invisible, but it is never absent.

Because fathers love deeply. They simply do not always know how to say it.

Maftuna Rustamova.

10th grade student