Sprout
As I looked at the corner of our yard, I visited the distant paths of my memory.
When I was still in middle school, my grandfather brought me a bunch of sprouts and books. He looked at me while he was planting the seedlings and handed me the books he brought and said:
- I’ll play with you. Surprised, I said:
-I don’t know how to plant seedlings, of course you will win. My grandfather laughed and said:
- I will plant the sapling, and you will read these books. If you finish reading the books before this sapling grows and blooms, you will win me.
- Who needs this game? I don’t read books. I ride Salih’s bike.
- Don’t ride your neighbor’s bike. If you beat me in the game, I will give you a new bike. I was so happy that I didn’t even know that I agreed to the game. My grandfather, who had not come from the yard, tended to the seedlings in the morning and in the evening, and watered them lovingly. I read a book without looking up. Months passed, months gave way to years. Today, while proudly holding my bachelor’s degree, I looked at the fragrant roses in the corner of the yard and the dusty bicycle that had not been ridden. If I count, it has been seven years since my grandfather left us…
Nosirova Gavhar was born on August 16, 2000 in the city of Shahrisabz, Kashkadarya region of Uzbekistan. Today, she is a third-year student of the Faculty of Philology of the Samarkand State University of Uzbekistan. Being a lover of literature, she is engaged in writing stories and poems. Her creative works have been published in Uzbek and English. In addition, she is a member of «All India Council for Development of Technical Skills», «Juntos por las letras» of Argentina, «2DSA Global Community». Winner of the «Korabl znaniy» and «Talenty Rossii» contests, holder of the international C1 level in the Russian language, Global Education ambassador of Wisdom University and global coordinator of the Iqra Foundation in Uzbekistan. «Magic pen holders» talented young group of Uzbekistan, «Kayva Kishor», «Friendship of people», «Raven Cage», «The Daily Global Nation», Argentina's «Multi Art-6», Kenya’s «Serenity: A compilation of art and literature by women» contains creative works in the magazine and anthology of poets and writers.
The Girl of Lugansk
Barefooted walking girl on the street
In prickly frost of morning hours
On icy slippery scald- head of the earth
With broken bloody knees.
Standing up and falling down,
Going alone nowhere.
Teared away from the world and herself.
Becoming more wicked.
Cold touching upon the bones
Of the kept silent victim.
Passers- by not finding any word.
Somebody tightly hiding the neck
Under fox collar,
Feeling sorry deep in the heart,
But not asking her anything.
Another one looks askance at the girl,
Expressing the contempt.
…O, Umpire judge!
Sometimes we can hang
The lock of indifference,
Not hear the dumb scream for help.
We are deaf, as caterpillars,
No demand from us,
And the conscience
Becoming blind,
The fire in the eyes is gone.
Nigar Nurulla Khalilova is a poet, novelist, translator from Azerbaijan, currently in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. She is a member of Azerbaijan Writers Union. She graduated from Azerbaijan Medical University and holds a Ph.D.
When I drink tea in New Jersey
Like a girl who writes poetry about a boy she has never seen
My day sits with all this disappointment
Counting her fleeting moments
I remember my mother using the smell of onions
To shed her tears in the kitchen
For the absence of my father
Who climbed his life war by war
Whenever he wore his military belt
He wished that war was just an old shoe
He could take it off whenever he liked
And he didn't need to think of fixing it at the cobbler's shop
I remember my brother
Who asked in his letters--
When will the war understand that we are not good at dealing with death?
I remember us forty years ago
We were kids, very much kids
With colourful clothes and hearts
It was enough for us to see a balloon
To drown in big laughter
I remember all this now
When I drink my tea
And
I practice my loneliness.
Faleeha Hassan is a poet, teacher, editor, writer, and playwright born in Najaf, Iraq, in 1967, who now lives in the United States. Faleeha was the first woman to write poetry for children in Iraq.
She received her master's degree in Arabic literature, and has now published 26 books, her poems have been translated into English, Turkmen, Bosnian, Indian, French, Italian, German, Kurdish, Spain, Korean, Greek, Serbia, Albanian, Pakistani, Romanian, Malayalam, Chinese, ODIA, Nepali and Macedonian language.
She is a Pulitzer Prize Nominee for 2018, Pushcart Prize Nominee for 2019. She's also a:
Member of International Writers and Artists Association.
Winner of the Women of Excellence Inspiration award from SJ magazine 2020,
Winner of the Grand Jury Award (the Sahitto International Award for Literature 2021)
One of the Women of Excellence selection committees 2023
Winner of women the arts award 2023
Member of Whos’ Who in America 2023
SAHITTO AWARD, JUDGING PANEL 2023
Cultural Ambassador - Iraq, USA
Email : d.fh88@yahoo.com
Ours is a Place
Ours is a place
Where nature smiles on
Ours is a place where birds circle overhead
Ours is a place
The green welcomes
Ours is a place where the peacock dances with colorful feathers
Ours is a place
Where the tigers, the lions roar in the Sundarbons
Ours is a place
Where rivers, lakes run through almost all its areas
Ours is a place
We love each other
Ours is a place which we bought
In exchange of sea blood
Ours is a place
We sleep with a sweet dream and get up
Walk hand in hand stepping in and out all over.
Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh,
25 April, 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 published in Synchronized Chaos for seven years.
COME
Like a boat wake
What, escape from time
And not from water
I come from the slow day of words,
That the moment undoes to the elements
I come and prostrate myself at this time of the afternoon, before the altar of shadows
I come from the gestures that have sunk in a sea
Without voices, with dry violet eyes, on the bottom rock
I know that the twilights accumulate and surround me
Here I am
I have been going, silently, for the silences
The times do not match
The words leave me in cycles of old voices
That's why I come and go
No questions, no answers.
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 the UHE World Honorary President of the same institution Activa de la Sade, Argentine Society of Writers. Commissioner of honor in the executive cabinet IN THE EDUCATIONAL AND SOCIAL RELATIONS DIVISION, of the UNACCC SOUTH AMERICA ARGENTINA CHAPTER.
It is Raining!!!
Pitter Patter, a symphony
Drops of diamonds I longed to see
Listen to its gentle harmony
Calmness comes with destiny
Months I waited to meet
Sieved by spidery nylon net
No floods, no swamp, yard unwet
Cool misty breeze, winkled cheeks pet
Days of drought, soul withered, upset
Burning ground, leaves vexed to death
Feverish, stinky body covered by sweat
Now vitality's reborn, one's lifespan reset
Rain, oh beloved rain
Just a short visit, much did gain
Summer's gone, May is here again
Small kisses, wispy clouds so plain
Let Me Ride
Let me ride the waves of your sea
Corals, turtles and school fish to see
Show me the beauty of your depth
No sufferings of life nor of death
Let me ride the curves of your hill
Where time peacefully stood still
Trees, meadow of grass and flower
Butterflies, bees and birds gather
Let me ride the winds of your sky
Free to fly way above all so high
Sun, moon and stars hanging bright
And fluffy clouds floating so light
Let me ride lines of your poetic words
Strum my heart with nature's chords
Let my mind be where body can't go
Let me ride along your ink as it flow
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.
Constant Awareness
Alone, and my thoughts of you go soaring
Into the endless blue sky and morning.
You are the spirit of my days and nights,
Holy as summer’s green meadows;
As winter’s icy stillness.
Your voice falls on my ears, softly
Like snowflakes touching the ground.
Your eyes speak love in moments of silence
And your mouth sends me riots
Of love songs and poetry from your depths
Like you’d saved them to spend on me.
I am consumed by constant awareness of you.
You live in my soul; you come and go
In bright flashes of my dream’s longing
To hold you as close as your breath on my face
When we open our eyes to the light of morning.
Magic Trails of Youth
Night pulls a blanket of stars over the earth.
The forest slumbers in the starlight.
A wide-eyed owl sits in a tree
Hooting to keep the night awake.
In my dreams I wander the mossy paths
Listening to the tree frogs, my senses
Tuned to the faintest sounds of the night;
A snail crossing the path ahead of me;
Mice breathing under ferns, hiding
From the sharp eyes of the Owl.
Raccoons snoring in a hollow tree.
A Doe and her fawn slurping water
From a brook that sparkles moonlight
Like diamonds glittering in the dark.
Now in my dreams I'm walking
On all the girlhood trails I’ve known,
Opening like a misty thoroughfare
Swirling around my soul, the memory
Of places the heart remembers, dormant
From long years on unmarked highways
Leading to adulthood's brick and mortar life.
Bricks hold the thoughts and memory
Of what strife brings to one, past youth;
Past dreaming and yearning for the softness
Of a shadowed, whispering yard, lit
By fireflies and youthful innocence
Dancing in the magic of girlhood laughter
Carried on the wind like some distant train whistle
Flashing through town long after curfew.
Morning dew greets the waking spirit of reality.
Annie Johnson is 84 years old. She is Shawnee Native American. She has published two, six hundred-page novels and six books of poetry. Annie has won several poetry awards from world poetry organizations including; World Union of Poets; she is a member of World Nations Writers Union; has received the World Institute for Peace award; the World Laureate of Literature from World Nations Writers Union and The William Shakespeare Poetry Award. She received a Certificate and Medal in recognition of the highest literature from International Literary Union for the year 2020, from Ayad Al Baldawi, President of the International Literary Union. She has three children, two grandchildren, and two sons-in-law. Annie played a flute in the Butler University Symphony. She still plays her flute.
