NOT FOR PLEASURE In the sun-lit beauty of the evening I watch as a flock of birds travel across And it hit my mind, like a sort of knowledge previously unknown That birds do not fly just for pleasure. These birds may, like man, have hustled the whole day In their own type of office and school And are returning to rest their aching feathers. They fly to get home, not for pleasure. Sometimes they fly to escape threatening danger To save their lives and slip away from death At this point they fly for safety Not for pleasure. They fly to find sustenance for their little ones Like man they too need something for their belly So as I watch them now fly past I know for certain that they do not fly for pleasure
Category Archives: CHAOS
Poetry from Amina Sahi
Woman with short straight dark hair, reading glasses, and lipstick.
The Sparrow in this Baffling Morning What is going on there Round the balcony of your house, At the Charming Strings of the dawn? Life is shining, The meadows have had an early wake, The sun is wearing a dress of gold Dancing in the air, Trees are flying over windows like butterflies of the spring. Mutterings can be heard from your silvery balcony Like a song as delicate as jasmine, and as tasty as a loving kiss. She was afraid he would hear her pulsing heart When he showed up with his white shirt, And an aura of purity around him As if he were surrounded by angels; While she was swaying down the tree, The bough was bowing under her heavily reticent heart. And as he was extending his hand, like a white cloud, To touch her, The morning breeze began to tremble And her heart was set ablaze. The sparrow keeps a secret She will never reveal even then. An Iraqi poet who moved to the USA after 2003 -Studied at the University of Vermont. -Has her own business in designing and trading fashion. -Before the 2003 war, she lost all her unpublished poems at the hands of terrorists who also destroyed her home with the family photos and memories. -Published her first collection of poetry entitled, The Sumerian Grief Bibliography, in 2019." Translated into English By Hussein Nasser Jabr
Essay from Saparbaeva Aziza
My impressions of books
“Khaloskor Sultan Sayfiddin Qutuz” is a novel written by Shahodat Ulug (who was born in Nurota, now lives and works in the Netherlands), and the work tells about the years of rule of Mahmud ibn Mahmud Sayfiddin, the son (nephew) of Jalaluddin Manguberdi’s sister, in Egypt, and his battles against the invading Mongols (Ain Jolut, Beit Shi’an), described the struggle of members of the Ayyubid dynasty against internal forces and their claims to the throne.
Some artistic aspects of the work are added by the author to make the reader more fascinated by the work. For example, the image of Ravza, Saifiddin’s beloved.
But at the same time, in writing the novel, the works of historians who gave information about that period were also used (Batlimus, Rumi, Charles-“Senyobas”, Makrizi).
Some of the events in the work contradict historical information (processes related to Turkon Khotun). But I don’t want to condemn the writer, the work of art is art in its own right.
But the work is characteristic of that period and at the same time it is explained in a language understandable to the reader. Special thanks to the author for this!
The ending of the play saddened me, why did the fate of such a strong person who avenged his uncle meet the same fate as his uncle…?!!
I wrote about the work briefly, but it is full of historical and artistic information. I am sure that you will witness this by reading the work.
I would like to leave you with short excerpts from the work:
“A blow from within the kingdom is dangerous because the outside world remains unaware of this threat. And the bandi locked inside goes on its way to its death in the bloody games of talent.
Life is a cruel despot.
Life is cold death inside a bloody talent game.”
“A person goes astray, but one day he will return to his origin and originality. Don’t get caught up in things that are alien to human nature.”
“Do good, if the fish knows, if not, Khaliq will know. It is enough for me to know the people.”
“Heart paralysis is a much sadder tragedy than physical paralysis. As a result, it forces a person to breathe in an unhealthy environment and condemns a person to live like a living corpse.
From the language of the image of Najmiya: “I was squeezed into my mother’s narrow stomach, oh, let there be wails, let there be cries, I could not fit into my father’s house, like a child clinging to a fortress.”
“A person sometimes finds suffering in happiness, and sometimes grows up in poverty and then rises to the heights.”
“Be careful! There is a piece of meat on the body. If it heals, the whole body heals.
If it fails, the whole body fails. He is the soul!’
Poetry from Sandy Rochelle
Birthday Poem My mind is filled to capacity by the divine. There is no longer space for unresolved pain. Although it never ceases to beat on the door of my sanity. The divine excludes all misery and transforms it into love. As the divine protects its own. You ask me, 'What about the demands of the outside world.' There is no outside world. Only a false world made from fear and loathing. A world tormented by misery and pain. Waiting to enter and shake it up. Ah, I say there is no world only love. for that is what I choose. What you choose is held in exile until you are ready. The things of the earth need no external pleasure. They are secure within. Demons can no longer survive in the mind as there is no air for them to breath. They trip on the ruby slippers left by a lost and tormented child. Now healed, safe and free. The woods are cold and dangerous. and the life they offer is seductive. The woods are full of hidden thorns and grief. They must be left on the craggy rocks. The must die before inflicting pain and sorrow. Do not go near them for like burs they will stick to you forever. Sandy Rochelle
Poetry from Sheila Murphy
Quotidian
No, I said.
I would not
Like that.
I held
still. The offer
on the table
stalled. He walked.
I stayed
apart. He started
thought and speech.
I heard. One word.
Born on the Cusp of July
Is it officially monsoon yet
Are we about to be hush wet
Showering constantly repeatedly
Pre- and post-walk the east
Valley husky with loaded clouds
And hail and winds and gloom
Confirming gravity all very
Garlicy and fraught
In Cherrapunjee, India, rainfall
Lasted 86 consecutive days imagine
Arizona like that no broom sturdy enough to
Push away the ruins lodged
Between repeat signs on the
Page
Hush Puppies
Hush puppies on the soles
of the feet of David Ignatow
at the podium one foot atop the other.
Warm young safe shoes. Hush
puppies belonging to David Ignatow
He spoke in plain tones that rose
in the carpeted auditorium
where students would go to hear
poetry slide into the tonal registers
of daily life. Hush puppies below the soft cuffs
of the trousers of David Ignatow
a gentle plow through speech allowed
its reach from his matter of fact
voice that cared. A flock of early voices
honored him flapped their wings locating their
span.
The Jugular Is Blotched
Within-ness tends to thin. From afar
Someone ekes out an expletive
Ripe as shame. Justice, meanwhile
Scampers out the back by way of
The loose screen door rattling proof
Of departure, in haste and how
Left behind one probably is.
Punch lists Judy as his
Executrix, meanwhile the bottler
Keeps things going and flowing.
Included in a firm punch list
A scattergram quotidian enough
Not to bother with a pinata plump and
Strikable
Cognitive Dissonance 2
I say I’m busy
I’m always busy
Being busy but
I am doing something
Defining I’m always
Listening to myself
Learn it’s just that
In your view
I’m not busy at all
Because I’m not
Going anywhere
With you
Sheila E. Murphy’s most recent book is Permission to Relax (BlazeVOX Books, 2023). Awards: Gertrude Stein Poetry Award for Letters to Unfinished J and the Hay(na)ku prize for Reporting Live From You Know Where (Meritage Books, 2018).
Poetry from Vernon Frazer
Threads Baring
new lapels disfigured mediation
busters harried to the tenth extreme
seek remedial disasters planned
under wedging banter associates
columnar when their vocable thread
transforms cased carrier remnants
to particle misgivings that hedge
the bettors shrubbing their green
with a nonchalance left unsuited
for the tidal remnant massage
dismembered as any catalogue
request impaneled many stairwells
casing the place for customer jars
buried as a threat of last return
to the clever parlor tricks turned
in Reno slot machines corporate
as any corporeal inflation suit
litigated under a fading gauntlet
or store a subterfuge in the pine
casket longing for a short return
on a retreat binding loose shrieks
to vacant cleanser armies trapped
in arrears or security bank lifts
its torrential rhetorical compendia
toward reactor bastions dancing
cradle riffs under moonshine wind
somatic upturn notwithstanding
the columnar implication dread
gradually shedding incumbents
of dormant centipede infraction
prints tracking lawns long gone
to granite vestibule packaging
arthritic numbers in stale heat
to lessen the platelet impact
consumed as a quadrant vocal
turning silent on a squeaky pivot
No Cigar Too Close
a Havana leak imploding
ratchets calcium in spite
a disconsolate liquidator
frying pawned banter
erased porcupine litanies
molting solar remuneration
developed darkening eyefuls
where headboards scattered
paradiddle femurs to daze
solar paperbacks with shock
the witch tonsil ache foiled
leaking punctuation reform
one bored seawater escape
released a subliminal jotting
and stapled scarves divulge
queasy octagons needle
rampant spitfires encompass
the disconsolate liquidators
harkening scripture grouches
recycle their pauper caravan
Kindling Ash
a conflagration mentor
firing up a passion lost
conical invitations rapt
in fashion
gear turned to spark
and catch
the lessening arc of the flare
as touched
by inspiration
inventing the fashion
of the passion come
much before
aspiration circuits
fence convention tents
along the downslide glow
the grin
in the dark
inspired
lightening the shouldered
incentive that fear turned
cynical the will untapped
despite
the endless recitation
a replay deployed
cylindrical
invective rations
a rhetorical spin
and out
no invitation needed
after dark
Vernon Frazer’s most recent poetry collection is MANTIC PANDEMIC, a C22 publication.
C22 will publish Frazer’s Voyage in Port in July 2024.
Poetry from Mahbub Alam
The Pick of Love A way goes through the bushes The light with colorful glow reflects All the way it spreads the roses The green smiles and the flowery grasses A dream of love welcomes here Beats the heart charming everywhere We celebrate our joy hand in hand Get lost with the bliss of Gaia’s pad Here dances all the mount’s pick The faces blush in the sun’s kiss The clouds hug the pyramid’s pace Call me to be in touch of the world’s grace. Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh, 16 June, 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 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 being published in Synchronized Chaos for seven years.