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.
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 -Before the 2003 war, she lost all her unpublished poems at the hands of terrorists who also destroyed her home with the family photos and memories.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
Older Middle Eastern man with sunglasses, thinning hair, and a white collared shirt, silver tie, and gray coat.
The Game and the Deluge
O, lady!
Your face is a word
Hidden under the feathers of a peacock,
A lady in a large hall .. alone
Whose secret is wrapped in nothingness.
O, lady!
I avoid crying
Beyond my occult voice
While repeating the words of a sentence.
My fear cancels off all things
To keep you a lady of the absolute
Reducing this paper cosmos
To an idol on a banquet of the earth
Announcing the death of Man.
The game could not stop the deluge.
(2)
The River of a Knife Poetry is ritualistic
O, you, my wish
Be goddesses and amulets
Or keep silent for ever.
And turn off as a dream
In the head of a castaway,
A banquet of fruits for the spirit,
Crows 're hiding the oblation love
In a river of a knife.
(3)
All are a Chatter
Bag All are a bag of cackles,
All travel throughout words
Drawing the circle of death.
Black magic
Declares the world as my grave.
Death is the road of gnostics.
So be steps and follow my steps
The path of God passes through
The sins of the exiles.
Abdul Razzaq Al-Amiri 1947-2010, a poet from Najaf, started writing poetry at an early age and published his poems in Iraqi newspapers and magazines at that time. His poetry was characterized by philosophical contemplation, emotional and intellectual alienation, and a preference for solitude and staying away from the public eye. In 1969, he published his first poetry collection titled "Qurban Al-Ishreen" (Sacrifice of the Twenties), and among his other poetry collections is "Diaries of the Eternal Question”. Translated into English By Hussein Nasser Jabr.
I wish it was that garden again...
I wish it was that garden again...
Once ours
Then sold,
As I fall,
I remember I'm slowly getting sad.
My memories of you
Dissolves like a wash
It opens one by one
Like a sheet in a notebook.
I say oh my
See how much of my life
This cruel time is over.
I wish it was back then...
Hidden from the fence - hidden,
We looked, we looked.
Even if the seers
Come to justice, to the screw
We would be ashamed
He kept this secret.
Half, when I see you,
the world was mine
We were happy, we laughed,
We fell into dreams,
We didn't get what we wanted.
We would hold hands,
We took wings and flew,
Floating in the dark sky,
Let's be friends with the birds.
Do you see my love
Wishes are sweeter than honey,
Moments with you
Written in my memory.
games of fate,
Dig a well very deep,
The wind blowing between us
Be it cold or cool,
How much breath I have
Dream and copy I will engrave in my heart
I will always love you.
I wish it was that garden again! ...
06/05/2023.
Elmaya Jabbarova was born in Azerbaijan. She is a poet, writer, reciter, and translator. Her poems were published in the regional newspapers «Sharginsesi», «Ziya», «Hekari», literary collections «Turan», «Karabakh is Azerbaijan!», «Zafar», «Buta», foreign Anthologies «Silk Road Arabian Nights», «Nano poem for
Africa», «JuntosporlasLetras 1;2», «Kafiye.net» in Turkey, in the African's CAJ magazine, Bangladesh's Red Times magazine, «Prodigy Published» magazine. She performed her poems live on Bangladesh Uddan TV, at the II Spain Book Fair 1ra Feria Virtual del Libro Panama, Bolivia, Uruguay, France, Portugal, USA.
MOTHER, INDIA!
You touch my heart with the melody of the flute,
tears flow for the One
who has inhabited my heart forever;
wherever I am,
He does not leave,
He has tied my soul with the silver thread of the moon,
I long to go,
and only death can bring us closer;
so I die again and again to meet you in a red sari
on the sacred ground in Dvaraka
I wait for you to wink at me,
just You and I
and we will meet there
where witnesses have been sleeping for centuries,
in the eternal city under the sea.
Oh Mother India, you call me...
Oh Dvaraka, city of my wedding,
I am coming to you.
Maja Milojković was born in 1975 in Zaječar, Serbia.
She is a person to whom from an early age, Leonardo da Vinci's statement "Painting is poetry that can be seen, and poetry is painting that can be heard" is circulating through the blood.
That's why she started to use feathers and a brush and began to reveal the world and herself to them.
As a poet, she is represented in numerous domestic and foreign literary newspapers, anthologies and electronic media, and some of her poems can be found on YouTube.
Many of her poems have been translated into English, Hungarian, Bengali and Bulgarian due to the need of foreign readers.
She is the recipient of many international awards.
"Trees of Desire" is her second collection of poems in preparation, which is preceded by the book of poems "Moon Circle".
She is a member of the International Society of Writers and Artists "Mountain Views" in Montenegro, and she also is a member of the Poetry club "Area Felix" in Serbia.
How
How my heart breaks at every storm my love ones face
How I want to shield them from the rages of lightning's race
How I wish I can cover them from winds of impulsive phase
How I desire to gather them all in a warm cozy place
How my heart breaks at every drought my love ones have to endure
How I want to shield them from the scorching thirst their throats measure
How I wish I have a vessel full of cool refreshing water to treasure
How I desire I can save them from the chains of poverty's pressure
How my heart breaks for every thorn my love ones step on their journey
How I want to shield them from the injustice of vengeful destiny
How I wish I can fight for them against fate's unreasonable tyranny
How I desire I have the power so comfort and peace be their company
How my heart breaks that for my love ones there is nothing I can do
How I want to shield them forever and to them my love I can show
How I wish I could love them less, my worry and fear away I throw
How I desire yet that is not to be so... for my heart cannot let go
Bottom of Form
Ignorance's Bliss
Have I not seen the beauty of dawn
I'd be contented of midnight lawn
Yet the pains of desire is sown
Hopeless pains of once numbed pawn
Have I not seen the field of star
I'd be blinded by neon lights afar
Yet not even diamonds come on par
The hope of peace in midst of war
Would it have been better to be ignorant
Following the instincts of an ant
From the sea of norm be deviant
Would satisfaction be a blessed grant?
Why must my eyes be opened wide
To the vastness of truth can't hide
Confusion of uncertainty to confide
White, black, red or blue, gown of bride
Knowledge is power and poison of peace
When certainty knows not of wisdom's ease
How much rain can be contained by fleece
Doubts and fears even sage's soul tease.
Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa was born January 14, 1965, in Manila Philippines. She has worked as a retired Language Instructor, interpreter, caregiver, secretary, product promotion employee, and private therapeutic masseur. Her works have been published as poems and short story anthologies in several language translations for e-magazines, monthly magazines, and books; poems for cause anthologies in a Zimbabwean newspaper; a feature article in a Philippine newspaper; and had her works posted on different poetry web and blog sites. She has been writing poems since childhood but started on Facebook only in 2014. For her, Poetry is life and life is poetry.
Lilian Kunimasa considers herself a student/teacher with the duty to learn, inspire, guide, and motivate others to contribute to changing what is seen as normal into a better world than when she steps into it. She has always considered life as an endless journey, searching for new goals, and challenges and how she can in small ways make a difference in every path she takes. She sees humanity as one family where each one must support the other and considers poets as a voice for Truth in pursuit of Equality and proper Stewardship of nature despite the hindrances of distorted information and traditions.
Photo of a reddish-brown haired and smiling woman with a necklace and black and white tank top next to a man with brown hair and a collared blue shirt.
TODAY, WITHOUT YOU
Talk to me, as if you don't know anything.
Recognize me, as a woman in a poem
I will go find your music,
Please turn the sound down, it's too loud.
Turn your gaze to mine
A halo of hope would have been enough.
How much winter threatens to freeze your skin,
It would be enough to finish the time
The moment your eyes closed.
Today without you, I only feel cold
Frequent uncertainty
Shadow gaps
Fear that paralyzes
You are no longer...
A thousand voices shout at me and I dissolve in them
You burst like a whip into my wounded side.
I arrived crying...
I look for you in the house,
I hug a sigh.
I look at the horizon that doesn't know
Where I lost the memory,
Your absence embraces me,
The tide of tears does not pause.
And so I fall asleep, while your
Dear husband
Rest in peace
June 20, 2024
GRACIELA NOEMI VILLAVERDE is a writer and poet from Concepción del Uruguay (Entre Rios) Argentina, based in Buenos Aires She graduated in letters and is the author of seven books of poetry, awarded several times worldwide. She works as the World Manager of Educational and Social Projects of the Hispanic World Union of Writers and is the UHE World Honorary President of the same institution Activa de la Sade, Argentine Society of Writers. She is the Commissioner of Honor in the executive cabinet IN THE EDUCATIONAL AND SOCIAL RELATIONS DIVISION, of the UNACCC SOUTH AMERICA ARGENTINA CHAPTER.
