BE YOUR MATE

I know right now!
your thoughts are fully opaque.
You want to give your life a retake.
Because this world is acting like a snake.
Your mind is under a terrible quake.
And soul is suffering from an untold ache.

Ohh Pretty!
It's time to take a decision for your own sake.
Firstly, take a short social media break.
Rise early and bake a cake.
Go to a park or lake.
Just listen the chirping birds and eat that cake.
Write a poem and don't be fake.
Give yourself some space and accept your mistakes.
Be you and don't follow others like copy paste.

Sit on a fresh grass and put aside your hate.
Pray to GOD and count blessings of your fate.
It's hard but have patience and just wait.

You are doing well, so don't underestimate.
Take a deep breath and enjoy your present state.
Instead of becoming your own slave, be your own good mate. Believe me!
You will feel better after this mini escape.

RAVISHING DOVE


Shall I tell you of a damsel flower
Whose beauty embellishes the universe
Like a star in the night out of its gown
A flower that blooms a colorful roses
In a garden of a mendacious love.

Shall I tell you of a ravishing dove
Whose name is written in the blue sky
That name a gentle wind whispers to my ears
Gently, gently like music that murders fears.

Shall I tell you of a shiny star
Whose eyes reflect nothing but a love
Like a mirror that welcomes a light
That is the face I always need to sight.

Shall I tell you of a robust sun
Whose teeth are as white as snow
That even its whiteness brights
And round all the galaxies.

I've not Lived

Until I soak myself under the sun
Almost ferried away by the waves of the ocean
Flipped by the flaps of the flapping trees
Tasting the salts of the sea
And living like the bliss of the heavens, 
Drenched in the rain, pregnant with dreams
And delivered of all my fantasies. 

I have not lived, until I'm ready for death
Choking from too many pleasures - satisfied
Yawning, belching, dizzy, weary from hedonism
Hence clamouring to see my Home
Begging, dying to meet my Maker
And see the house He'd prepared yonder
For me to retire
And be steeled from terror
And malice 
And treason
And poison 
Where I'd wrestle with death
And be defeated by death
And take my turn to win through defeat:
My battles over death - finally and permanently.
And then be immune to terror
And be forever condemned to bliss
In my own flat 
That my Maker prepared yonder.

I have not lived!
Until I see the sky under the East.
I have not lived
To see the rising of the sun
Neither have I seen the sky in the West
Nor lived to relish the setting of its sun
And watch the moon from the West glistening,
And adore my Maker for His mightiness. 

I have not lived!
For I have not breathed from the North
Nor sleep in the East
Nor take my detour to Aomori
Where even the angels might freeze. 

I have not lived!
And I want to live
To breathe the air of the North
And soak myself in the oven
As I'm freezing from the frenzy of the Bahamas 
And watch my seeds run around
While I watch
Admiring their tiny little legs
And their hearts brimming of innocence. 

I have not lived!
So neither malice nor rancour
Nor hatred should get the best of me.
For I want away with terror
With malice 
With poison 
With envy
With lust
With lost
With everything omen. 
I want away with all
Until I truly live. 

ABAYOMI ZEAL

A Really Bad Man

I read in the local
newspaper, the
other day, about
a man who lived
in the same city I
do, he got caught
having sex with
his dog, and
posting it on
Messenger. He
moved away,
obviously,
otherwise
he would
have been lynched.

He moved to rural
Wales, right out in
the sticks.
Where I suppose
nobody knew who
he was, or what he'd
done.

Well, he got sent down
for eleven years.
I think that's fair enough.
He's fucking sick.

But people get less
than that for murder.
Most people get less
than that for murder.

I'm not defending a
dog fucker.

If he'd tried it on
with my dog, I would
have killed him.

But, you have to ask
yourself ;
Killing a human
being, who will be
mourned by many.
Many lives will be
destroyed.

Is shagging a dog,
as disgusting as it
is, really worse than
that.

I don't know.

I think that both
are inexcusable. 

A Day To Come

One day your children you dearly love will wail, but you will not be able to comfort them.

One day the trees will provide oxygen in abundance, but your lungs will not be able to take their fill.

One day your love ones will say their goodbye, but your mouth will be too shy to say yours.

One day you will be given a bath and it will be your final bath, but you will not feel it.

One day the meal of your heart will be served before your nose,
But your name will not be mentioned.

One day you will wear your clothes but you will not be able to get them off.

One day the things you are fighting for will not be of any importance to you.

One day you will leave your home and never return, but others will now claim that.

One day you will live in a house you never built in your lifetime, and you will never come out to greet your neighbors.

One day your name will be given a title you shall carry forever, and it shall be called the “Late”.

One day the closet of your home will be invaded and you will say nothing.

One day the shoes you loved dearly will be worn by others and not yourself.

One day you and your partner shall share your bed and you will not be able to see who lies next to him/her.

One day you will stand in the presence of a great Judge but you will not be able to hire a lawyer to plead your case. 
You will do that alone.

And One day you will wish to be around your friends,
But you will lie somewhere alone in your dark room never to come out.

If you are to live, live right and now,
If you wish to love, love right and now.
For the day is sure but unknown.
Peace ✌️✌️🕊️✌️🕊️🕊️
© Gabriel T. Saah ( Marvelous Inker).

-Gabriel T. Saah

First of all, our friend and collaborator Rui Carvalho has announced the opening of our Nature Writing Contest for 2022. This is an invitation to submit poems and short stories related to trees, water, and nature conservation between now and the March 2023 deadline. More information and submission instructions here!

Also, our co-editor Kahlil Crawford and I are announcing a Latin culture-themed issue, which will be October’s first issue. Submissions for this are welcome up through the end of September. Kahlil was inspired by the works of Fernando Sorrentino, who sent in a set of stories, one of which is published in this issue. Lorraine Caputo will write the editorial letter for that issue.

Finally, we encourage you to support assistance and education, including literacy classes, for Afghan people in need through RAWA (The Revolutionary Association of Women in Afghanistan). They are looking for people to translate articles from Persian/Pashto into English and to translate the English and Pashto articles on their site into a variety of other languages.

Chimezie Ihekuna continues his half-year countdown to Christmas with a poem about traditional children’s and family celebrations in his homeland of Nigeria. Christopher Bernard also speaks to the change of seasons, describing the early beginning of fall weather in rich but sweltering farmland.

Mahbub turns towards nature as well, describing a couple who finds the beauty of their love reflected in an intricate coral reef and the timelessness of the ocean. Christina Chin and Matthew Defibaugh collaborate on another piece that’s a different sort of look at a couple on the beach.

Tanvir Islam’s poem celebrates the love between a husband and a wife, while Alimam Bolakale sends us a children’s verse style piece on romantic love. John Culp celebrates peace and love in a clever poem.

Gabriel T. Saah urges us all to embrace spiritual love, while Musa Ibrahim gives gentle calls for nurturance in interpersonal and inter-group relationships. Ike Boateng describes a quite eventful month in the life of his community in Ghana.

Md. Nurujjajman relates a tale of obsessive love turned violent, while Abdulbasit Oluwanishola laments the decay of a friendship due to someone’s being distracted by greed.

Faroq Faisal renders the motifs of a children’s story with talking animals into a meditation on betrayal from those we hope to help. R.P. Verlaine narrates the common barroom tragedies of love lost and promises broken.

Jaylan Salah’s review of John Crowley’s film Brooklyn explores a love story through the lens of the Irish immigrant protagonist’s search for home and belonging.

Shaurya Pathania’s poems show people desperate to assert themselves one way or another, calling out to the lonely road or to empty sets of clothes.

Sanjeev Sethi’s new poetry collection Wrappings in Bespoke, reviewed by Cristina Deptula, deals with aging and fitting into our world through intellectual thought. Preacher Allgood also addresses the physicality of aging through a poem about traveling with an old car and an old body.

Ian Copestick highlights a sad irony of life with chronic illness, the imprecision of our current mental health treatments and the awkwardness of life within a body. J.J. Campbell’s poems relate the wisdom and cynicism that come with age.

Akinmade Zeal’s vignette presents a father who still believes in the importance of traditional ways of raising one’s social position and a son who’s more world-weary.

Sayani Mukherjee finds joy in her incarnate experience, writing of the sensual joys of eating a juicy peach.

Michael Pollentine speaks of the stages of death, both personal and ecological. Jack Galmitz’ pieces praise commitment to social/ecological ideals while examining the element of showmanship present even in sincere heroism.

Mesfakus Salahin celebrates Bangladesh’s independence and its historical founder, and thus his own national and personal identity. Marjona Jurakulova outlines the contributions of Islamic Uzbek scientists and philosophers to world history and encourages her home country to continue fostering research and knowledge.

Jeff Crouch and Diana Magallon’s mixed media piece renders the disintegration caused by war into a grayscale surrealist film. Meanwhile, Ubali Ibrahim Hashimu hopes for the ultimate victory of peace over political and racial conflict.

Michael Ceraolo’s short sketches of stage plays speak to broad social and economic justice ideas, while Fernando Sorrentino’s drama presents “justice of the lambs” inflicted by the wronged weak banding together against the strong and cruel.

Christ Keivom evokes memory and the detritus of past lives and loves. Abubakar Auwal grieves at the loss of a dear mother and seeks to turn back time. Jim Meirose presents a stagelike drama that portrays a certain character through a loose drama about the “funeral business.”

WV Sutra remembers a singular character who cared about words and ideas and music, who marched to his own drummer.

Federico Wardal celebrates invention and genius through an article on the rediscovery of an old and anonymous play written as a tribute to Shakespeare’s ingenuity.

Dr. James Tipton, English professor at the College of Marin, also explores creativity by reviewing poet and novelist Mary Mackey’s book about her poetry, Creativity: Where Poems Begin. She offers a sober, realistic look at poetic inspiration, not from impairment, suffering, or chaos, but from thought and observation.

Christina Chin’s second poetic collaboration, with Uchechukwu Onyedikam, touches on ancient history and spirituality. J.D. Nelson contributes some more wordy experiments while Mark Young continues to work with dramatic line and color.