Poetry from Piotr Kasjas

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Children of the Stars
translated by Artur Komoter

We children of the stars –
Atoms of life
Born of cosmic dust
In the cold darkness of the galaxies

In a tiny fraction of their existence
We children of the stars –

They arose from silence
Descendants of the white dwarves
Thrown out of the emptiness

In their rocky blocks

We children of the stars –
Lonely wanderers
From the stellar tumuli

Lost in the abyss of self-discovery
We create and we die

We children of the stars –
The only source of life
The pagans and believers
The only ones present

With the soul of the universe

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Poetry from Gwil James Thomas

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Poem on Multitasking 
in a Brightonian Dive Bar.
The kitchen doors flew open
like some gunslinger
had entered a
Spaghetti Western saloon –
the landlady then stared over
to my section and rolled her eyes.
“Y’know what your problem
is sunshine?” she screamed.
“What?” I’d asked.
“You try to do everything at
fucking once!”
My boss then tried to
demonstrate how to operate
the dishwasher and make
desserts at the same time
before failing at my
minimum wage
Sisyphean job and leaving,
but she’d been right –
there I was trying to pen lines,
sneak in drinks from the bar
for the chefs and myself,
whilst texting my friend in
response to his “business idea” –
one that was risky,
but paid enough in cash money
to pay for two months,
write freely and search
for a new job.
I knew that in a couple of days
it’d also be payday at the pub
and time to prioritise
things again and I knew that
my job there wasn’t going to be
one of them.

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Poetry from Arthur C. Ford

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DEAD BOOK

(For those who don’t read)

 

Don’t let me sit

And rot away

As you walk

Through ages.

 

I once was pulp

Some spruce, some pine

Now my blood

Is words on pages.

 

Closed covers

Are confining

Strangulating!

Each veinal sentence.

 

Ignoring me

And all my kind

Would bring

Global repentance!!

 

So grasp me, open me

Digest life’s cultures

Make sure!

That I am read,

 

For if you don’t

Do this mankind

For sure

We both are dead.

 

By: Arthur C. Ford, Sr., poet

wewuvpoetry@hotmail.com

 

 

 

Bio-Sketch

 

Arthur C. Ford,Sr. was born and raised in New Orleans,La..While in college he performed parts in several plays and did the lead role in Ossie Davis’s “Purlie Victorious”. Acting catapulted him to writing and presently publishing poetry.

            He received a B.S. Degree from Southern University in New Orleans(S.U.N.O.), travel to 45 states of America, resided in Europe for two years(Bruxelles, Belgium) and travelled for 30 days(July/2011) throughout the country of India.

            His poetry, lyrics and prose have been published in many journals, magazines, etc..

            He presently lives in Pittsburgh,Pa., and continues to write and publish poetry.

Chimezie Ihekuna’s Sixth Installment of the Success Story

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Please feel welcome to read the five previous installments of The Success Story here, here, here.  here.

And most recently, here. 

Chimezie Ihekuna

The Building: Creative Publishing Press 

It is a large three-storey building that has the banner, covering most the frontage of the middle floor, when looked at, from an exterior view, the multi-coloured banner that reads: Creative Publishing Press…a literary forte where writers become authors. The office of the publishing manager is at the third floor. The symbol representing stacks of book by an individual writing on a table, is also depicted in the banner.

The first floor is the Production Department. This is where they are various machines designed to make ready formatted and edited manuscripts print-ready and publication-worthy—for marketing and distribution. They are ten to fifteen workers operating the heavy-duty and electricity-powered machines. The second floor has in it the various offices. There is the Legal Department office; where there are two employed intellectual property lawyers that draft fair contracts which would serve as the basis for business between authors—those whose works have been accepted for publication—and the publishing company.

There is the Editorial Department Office. This is where the various editing sections take place. Editors, five to ten in number, have the responsibility of touching the manuscripts such as grammar corrections, revision, content addition or subtraction at the three-stage processes, known as editing passes. The Media and Publicity Office has trained media professionals and publicists, whose tasks are to provide quality interviews for published authors, publish them in various major dailies and the much-needed publicity to get their names heard throughout Perth and beyond.

The largest part of the second floor is occupied by the Bookstore Department Office. This is where books of published authors are showcased and available for readers to purchase directly from the company at discounted prices. There is the store manager and attendant. All of the offices are spacious enough and have in-built in them well-designed synthetic ventilators. The last floor is exclusively for the founder and publishing manager. It is called Office of The Publisher. It is the most spacious office in the building. Any visitor would have to stay at the Secretary’s Corner pending when the publisher is ready to attend to that person. The office of the Publisher has a mini-library where all books of published authors solely by the company are showcased.

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Elizabeth Hughes’ Book Periscope

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The Wrong Side of Loyalty by Marshall Ginevan
In The Wrong Side of Honor Eddie Donevant was in Vietnam going after the CIA that were bringing Opium into the U.S. to be made into heroin. In the Wrong Side of Loyalty, Eddie and his wife Elaine start out in Russia as visiting professors. Then people start getting murdered and he is brought back into active duty chasing terrorists in the Middle East. This is another fantastic novel filled with action that will keep the reader engaged from the very first page to the very last. I absolutely loved it and very highly recommend it.
The Place Where The Metaphor Hides by Chris N.
The Place Where The Metaphor Hides is a book of  poetry. It is much different than most others I have read. It is interesting and would appeal to older teens and adults. It is the tale of the journey of Jenny who has spent six years searching for her love. Her love has been stuck in a journey that has taken him through being chased and lost both physically and emotionally. It keeps the reader’s interest and would be a great gift for the older teen or young adult.
Little Meditations by Avinash Jalani
This is a book of poetry. The poems are written to give you a sense of peace and easy to read. My favorite ones are (although, they are all excellent) ‘Finding Blueprint’, ‘When Silent Eyes’, ‘Do You Know’, ‘Exploring With’, ‘Immortal Love’, ‘Abundance’, ‘Invisible Love,’ and ‘Broken Star’. If you love poetry, this is perfect for your personal home library. If you have never really read poetry, this would be a perfect book to start with. I very highly recommend it.

Poetry from Ahmad Al-Khatat

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Death Philosophy 

Someone who loves 

chilling  

dancing  

drinking 

smoking 

asks me if I write with an ink? 

 

I answer to her with  

yes, it’s from  

my pain 

my ache 

my lonely  

my grief  

with the colour of death philosophy 

  

Will Be Quite 

I’m seeking a land, and not a homeland
Without the aid of Google maps, instead 

I will discover a new land with a loyal pet as
I gave up from my friends a long time ago 

I want to work like a bee, and fly with
the birds by the beautiful blue skies 

I create a family of different plants
with seeds of my own, and rain from God 

being a writer is being a father of griefs, and
writing about what the city lights hid from me 

the rain drops wash the rooves of leaders
and damage the shelters of few believers 

with my eyes I see, while nothing stops me from
crying when I hear my adopted brother’s dying 

I jump into the dead sea to cure my wounds
as I will have new cuts with no pain as long as 

I will be drinking whiskey, and creating an unhealthy
cloud from the smoke of my addiction to cigarettes 

being happy doesn’t mean I’m sleeping without
counting the stars, instead it’s another way to 

forget that I am actually being hanged to death
since the day, I decided to own a colour of the rainbow 

I will be quite with the mirror, and hold
The candle dropping more wax in my throat 

  

Accent of Grief  

I stepped above my spirit
to release the joys from the bottom
of my belly button 

I broke my heart a few times
To feel a healthy beat to enjoy
every misery I face on my own 

I cracked my brain to recall
the times when my father wasn’t a man,
when he knew about death 

I drank dark roast coffee
to bitter my words from saying them
to the clock on the dull wall 

I cried as a powerless musician
because I knew that my blues and jazz
have a deep accent of grief 

 

A Foreign Student and Shaving Blades 

A few weeks ago
I went to the washroom in a
Coffee shop nearby to my school 

there by the sink
I saw shaving blades
I was shocked and terrified in the moment 

I went back to my table
to study my homework, next to me
a foreign student was talking on the phone 

he spoke the same language as I do,
his mouth was smiling, and his eyes were
watery creating a river of lonesome homesickness 

turns out, the shaving blades
have a chemistry in his current life
so do I, but I would use it on some other day of the year

Ahmad Al-Khatat was born in Baghdad on May 8th. From Iraq, he came to Canada at the age of 10, the same age when he wrote his very first poem back in the year 2000. He also has been published in several press publications and anthologies all over the world. And he currently studies Political Science at Concordia University in Montreal. He recently has published two chapbooks “The Bleeding Heart Poet” and “Love On The War’s Frontline” through Alien Buddha Press. They are available for sale on Amazon. Many of his new and old poems are also available on his official page Bleeding Heart Poet on Facebook.

Poetry from Mahbub

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Feeling Pain

 

Mahbub

Why do I feel pain in my heart?

The reason is why I take the drugs

Often go out in the open green fields with shady large trees

Soften my eyes, soothe my heart and mind

Feel drowsy the whole –

Can’t stay any more

Come back to me

Come back to my resort

Why do I feel pain in my heart?

Can it be exposed exactly

So far as it to say the loss of you

Threw me to the dark where I float and fly

The turning of the youth

Spent like the storm nothing left to see

I find and mind and mind

Flooded with the load ——-.

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