Waylaid

You waylaid me

When I was determined,

With boots and walking stick,

To trek into the ravine,

A sober, brackish crevasse

Down Old Woman Creek.

But you, your hues against

Blue, an enticing brilliance

In the morning light,

Thwarted my intention.

Your sensible summer viridians

Absent, you got me drunk,

An inevitable debauchery.

On yellow, crimson, saffron

And that leathery bronze

And alizarin of the oak.

Presumption

The blackbird scolds me,

A torrent of abuse from

High above in the willow.

Furious over my very presence,

She imagines the worst in me

(This is becoming tiresome.)

Presumes an evil agenda,

A scheme on her lovely eggs,

Her nest in the bulrushes.

When I look up to reassure,

To list honorable intentions,

To even express disinterest,

I notice, just past her wings,

The moon, transparent in the

Morning sun, undeniably

Virtuous against blue.

I am grateful for the coincidence

“Oh, there you are!”

And offer a genial introduction.

My appeal to the blackbird

Is the moon will vouch for me.

We’ve been acquaintances,

Maybe pals, for some time now.

---

Dear Mother!

You’re the one and only light,
Ever circling, pure and bright.
Like a song that feels just right—
Mother, Mother, dearest light!

Kindness lives inside your soul,
Your bright smile can make us whole.
You are beauty’s purest role—
Mother, Mother, heart and soul!

May your years become a tale,
Stand through life, strong without fail.
May your name in love prevail—
Mother, Mother, without veil!

May your love not fade away,
May your name forever stay.
Let no mother feel dismay—
Mother, Mother, every day!

---

Are You Truly Happy with Wealth?

Your proud stance and graceful frame,
Bring the hearts that know you flame.
But parents bore your life and name—
Are you truly happy with wealth?

You now look down on the poor,
For money’s sake, you ask for more.
But don’t forget your inner core—
Are you truly happy with wealth?

Your home’s a palace, they declare,
And call you “rich,” with loving care.
But charm and grace are rarely there—
Are you truly happy with wealth?

You built a fortune, grand and wide,
You see the people, but with pride.
Your conscience now you try to hide—
Are you truly happy with wealth?

Shoxrukh Fayzulla o‘g‘li Dusmatov lives in Gurlan district of Khorezm region. He was born on October 23, 2003, in Gurlan.
He graduated from Secondary School No. 2 in Gurlan district.
Currently, he is a student at the Urgench branch of Tashkent Medical Academy.

Saying No to Nirvana

Until I learn and earn merits of this human birth

Cultivating loving care and concern like mother earth

Mother earth keeping her promise and word

Loving her children, she walks upon edge of sword

If earth stumbles slightly away from the Sun

That will turn oceans in icy desert, killing everyone

If earth moves a little closer to Sun in her orbit

That will burn all upon earth turning it into hell’s pit.

Earth works every moment, giving her best

Making for her children day to work and night to rest

If earth never turns on her axis, making no day or night

Half of earth will burn and half will reel under freezing fright.

With her seasons, earth distributes her love to all

Without discrimination to a mountain or a mole

She asks her clouds to be careful to rain drop by drop

For giving water to every plant of a farmer’s crop

Until I learn and earn holy merits becoming worth

If I can turn into love and light like mother earth

Crying for Nirvana without loving wisdom like a fool

How could I wish to run away from my earth school

Until I incorporate love and light in my being

Until I cultivate loving eyes for cosmic blessing

Until I become responsible earth citizen here

What good nirvana will do to an escapist under fear ?

All rights reserved

 

__________

The Roma Spirit 

I lived 

Like an earthly native

With loving motive

Enamored with

Love of humanity

Travelling ever

To meet humane

And kind community

Travelling light

Keeping only

Love in sight

I embraced

My humble poverty

I ignored

The material property

For the bargain

Of my all loving heart

I let go

Wealth and its art

I settled no where

To raise the wall

And to call

The land, 

The river and air

As my own share

With unconditional love and compassion

My universal Roma Spirit 

Craved to enrich the human nation

I moved on 

Like a wind 

Carrying the fragrance

From the flower

And its sacred essence

To the distant

Civilizations upon earth

Spreading human worth

Of heavenly hearth

Now,

The land owners

And the miners

Of wealth and jewels

Tell me, 

You lived

Like a vagabond

Sorry, it is too late

To accommodate

They said,

We have

Divided all the earth

Its forests and its rivers 

And its heavenly hearth

To raise 

Our material worth

Laden with their gold

So very bold

Scolding Roma

They announced 

By spiritual wisdom

You may be tall

But without wealth

You are 

A lost soul, Pal

Snack

It’s dark out 

It’s cold out 

Any moment now the sun might come out 

But i can still hear the sounds of people moving

The sound of people struggling 

The sound of people trying their best to live in this harsh society

I thought i wasn’t getting much sleep these days 

These people don’t sleep at all

I lay in my bed

My body devoured 

I lay there staring up in the ceiling 

I think to myself 

It must be freezing cold outside

How can those people have the motivation to go out at this time

I feel a chill down my spine 

Somethings not right but i don’t know what

I think eating a snack would solve the problem

I stand up and go look for some food

I sit down with all the food i scavenged 

A tuna can, some leftover chicken and some ramen

Todays hunt was successful i thought 

I will make it my mission to finish this as fast as i can

I dig in quickly 

I eat til there is nothing left 

except the last chicken leg 

After this i can finally go to bed with a full stomach 

I pick it up 

And I..

Beep beep beep…

wake up 

Injury to insult

The only time i insult someone is when 

I get insulted that’s why you should 

Add injury to an insult

You have to stand up for yourself 

When you insult them

Make sure to injure them as well

And don’t just minorly injure them

Permanently damage them

So they don’t have to come to school 

So that they don’t have to all this nasty homework 

I wish I don’t have to come to school anyways

I’m not sure about you

But personally i was taught to never take any disrespect from anyone 

Me personally i would have to add injury to insult

School 

I wish that it ended. She keeps talking and talking. I’m not listening, who is? Nobody listening there, all sleeping. School is such a waste. 

I wish that time stopped. I never thought it was fun. Schools should host more parties. We stayed there until 9. It ended in a flash.

I wish that he didn’t. Throwing that beautiful ramen away. I’m inside the school starving. While he wastes that ramen. My poor beautiful delicious ramen.

Andrew Ban is a student attending an International School in South Korea. He loves writing in his free time, and his other hobbies include cross country and bike riding. He was recently published in Inlandia: A Literary Journal, Dunes Review, The Elevation Review,  Rigorous and Mortal Magazine.

Eugene Han is a student at an international school in South Korea. His artwork explores themes of identity, culture, and nature, often blending abstract and representational elements. Through vibrant colors and textured layers, he aims to capture both the complexity and simplicity of the human experience. Eugene has been honing their artistic skills from a young age and is passionate about sharing their vision with a global audience.

“Myth, Symbolism, and Patriotism: An Exploration of Turkia Loucif’s The Legend of a Squirrel”

The novel “The Legend of a Squirrel” by Turkia Loucif is a captivating literary work that draws inspiration from mythological and symbolic heritage to present a national vision. The story revolves around a conflict between good and evil, with the squirrel representing friendly peoples who helped Algeria in its revolution against French occupation. The castle symbolizes the homeland, while the faeries represent evil forces seeking to take control.

The novel explores themes of patriotism, sacrifice, and the struggle for power, with a unique blend of fantasy and reality. The author’s use of symbolism and mythological elements adds depth and complexity to the narrative, making it accessible to a wide range of readers.

The translation of the novel into English by Ahmed Farouk Beydoun and the Albanian proofreader Kujtim Hajdari has made it possible for a global audience to experience the story. The novel’s success is evident in its bestseller status at exhibitions held in Algeria, and its translation marks an important step in the author’s literary career.

Dr. Mohamed Bashir Bouijra’s critical review highlights the novel’s artistic and literary merits, noting its unique blend of fantasy and social commentary. The review also praises the author’s use of language, which is both accessible and engaging.

As the linguistic reviewer of this novel, Kujtim Hajdari notes that Turkia Loucif’s writing style is characterized by its clarity, precision, and mastery of the Arabic language. Her use of vocabulary is rich and nuanced, and her sentences are structured in a way that is both logical and aesthetically pleasing. The novel’s themes of social justice, power, and the human condition are timely and thought-provoking, and Loucif’s exploration of these themes is both nuanced and insightful.

Oranjestad, The Orange City by the Sea

Prose Poem Belles Lettres Reports 

(from The Aruba Journals, August 2025)

for Tara

by Brian Michael Barbeito 

ONE

A Story of Flora and Fauna Fine and Fantastic 

The ascended sun putting the night to sleep. At the evening walking, a frightened stray dog ran incredibly fast past us to pause down a dirt road looking for its way into the verdant shrubbery and trees where it lived. What was it running from? It was grey and black, big,- and that poor guy or girl, we thought, w/out a forever home, more alone than so many. 

The Spanish style terra cotta roofs wait across the way, and they and everything receive the early afternoon sun. Hot. Humid. Breezy. Fine grain sands and long wide beaches, two silver fish came in near my legs and looked around at the shallow world briefly. My God how much like paradise with the turquoise waters gently rolling around under azure sky sometimes holding puffy white cumulus clouds. It had rained but the land is magnanimous and forgives such things quickly,- transitioning back to normalcy. 

Tans. Supermarkets. Many different cultures looks and languages from all over the world because the sea and the sun is most certainly the world ‘word,’ the earth cosmopolitan-language that all agree on. Several languages…English, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Dutch, Papiamento. 

Blue gecko lizards. Palm fronds. Glimmer of light upon objects. The friendly cabbie. The plane in the sky, the slow moving cruise ship, the smaller vessels of the harbour and patio drinks,- beer, soda, Pina Colada. Flags flying in wind. Silver trinkets in the sun. Atmospheric serene. Walk and walk. Jump in the sea. Sit on chairs or in the sand. Conversations about the world and things,- talks w/friends. Pictures and prose poems home….

TWO

A Prose Poem for the Night, the Sea, the Sky and the Sun Scenic

The night is full, robust, obviously dark. From the balcony one can see shapes and there is some soft light upon the palm trees and stucco structures. 

Then the break into light, but it’s a quiet and such a minute break. It knows its way and does this every day, this daybreak, this ancient and new movement of existence. 

A bird begins to sing. Eventually more. A pelican arrives up the way as every day, in order to look at a certain set of balconies or the roof. Terra cotta condominiums, green fronds, potted trees, the Divi Divi trees, coastline, looking southwest for the trade winds that travel across the region. The parrot that arrives the first day to great Tara hasn’t been back, and though real is more like a spirit message, an auspicious sign of some sort. (Things like this often happen to her, especially w/birds. The birds sense her spirit and essence and like her very much). 

Walkers. Joggers. Workers. Awakening world. Bus. Taxi. Later perhaps the cruise ships docking. Electric bike. Electric scooter. Soft gentle breeze. Parachute pulled by motor boat. An elderly soul, a man, is walking towards the sea. I think now the sun has risen enough,- and it’s not too hot or oppressive in brightness and humidity, that I will begin to gather my things and also go to the ocean and into it for a little swim. Yes,- I’ll let the singing birds and curious but coy geckos be, and venture off to see the sea, the six o’clock hour sea…

THREE

Meditations on the Night and its Moon

Inside the night the clouds definitely moved in. They appeared to make a magical fluffy frame around the moon. Below, the stucco resorts, palm trees green lit by electric lights. More distant lights also. Then, it is the rain’s turn to act. Slow dawn and early morning showers. Then the perennial ‘torrential’ downpour, but that’s okay. The cars scatter. The trees become frumpy. The sand turns a darker shade, brownish. Maybe later it will stop and the bright rays of light will come again,- warm, nurturing, healthy, joyous, calm, kind,- 

Sitting for now though,- balcony way,- musing pensive philosophical inward in the outward, two birds come by making their morning rounds. It’s not that they are necessarily a sign and there for me,- for this is THEIR home, but…it’s nice they are not afraid of me,- don’t feel or see anything in my spirit that is acrimonious,- and look at me, walk right to my side and feet. 

‘I don’t have anything for you birds,’ I mention for fun,’ not this morning…’ it’s later I shall feed them, by palms and stucco walls where iguanas live also under that continual afternoon wind.

And they jump up and make the rest of the rounds. I gaze momentarily out. A sea of rain, mist, foggy-type atmosphere of the tropical arena of abodes and dwellings, restaurants and passageways to the beach, to the scenery of sand and sea. 

FOUR

Of Time, Travellers and the Beloved 

Rainy. The clouds have won today. That’s okay. A different atmosphere for the orange city by the sea. Verdant kelly green shrubs. Kittens. Lizards. Shapes in clouds moving. The flora and fauna need the rains. We still got to swim in the ocean. Tides changing and a plane. A pelican. Even the inland ants and little birds. Nice enough. Let’s take a walk after getting snacks and some change of clothes. 

Stucco buildings. Bright yellow flowers. Pink ones too. Tall palms. Pastel visions of structures light blue and green and orange. The shapes of buildings. Balconies. Breezes. A pontoon boat and a tour boat. The world there. Nice people. Sand. A shell, an old conch shell. Ghostly wind. The trade winds again that blow over the island entire and head south west. What’s this?- thunder- how interesting and different. Capricious weather- sun shade rain sun shade rain wind breeze calm. 

Interesting. I notice again how Tara is so beautiful,- a smile and dimples and shining eyes true and intelligent, curious, knowing. 

Love. We love the sea, also like an old true beloved soulmate. We love the sand, like the greatest and trusted of friends. And we love the sky, its sun and cloud, even its rain-like shroud…yes we love even the rainy sky, for so many reasons why! 

FIVE

Through Dawn, Rain, and Day

Dawn brightly announces itself and the winds that have remained travel through the worlds of verdant palm fronds and the stucco buildings. A blue lizard, a gecko, my favourite type, watches, plus a green one beyond. There is the pool, plus the green grasses where cats play and friendly tourists feed them.

Cruise ships bring in thousands of people but for the most part, the lands absorb them. Some noise and conversations. Many souls want to see the blue and turquoise sea, the white clean and clear fine grain that is somehow not even that hot to walk upon barefoot. 

Dusk, sun beginning a descent,- up steps across the way to a fine restaurant for pizzas and pastas, drinks like Cuban-style Mojitos, Sangria, and even plain water and Coke Zero. Of course coffee also. Nice. Many more souls. Italians. Americans. South Americans.  Canadians like us, plus others. Walk home after,- the darkened sea for nocturne beside us to the right, and the electric lighted buildings to the left. See the pool illumined by various lights electric. Then,- balconies and calm conversations plus soft music. 

Coffee. Tea. Water. 

What dreams will arrive via the night?- good or bad or mixed,- and,…these strange times marginal imaginations like when one floated in water earlier with ears covered by the sacrosanct sublime scene of sea…- staring up upon the clouds moving not fast or slow but just right with wizards gnomes people buildings spaceships spirits as if appearing then dissolving and travelling inland outland across to here-there-everywhere both north and south,- along and over this whimsical wondrous Orange City,———……