IN THE WORLD OF PEOPLE

In the world of people uncomfortable and cold,
The sun warms the hearts less and less.
And kindness, like a ounce of gold,
Tightly hidden in stone of the face.
Oh, these are bystanders looks!
The lion overtakes the running doe.
The hawk torments with a cruel tremor
The partridge in the grass, just look!
Ostrich sweeps in the feathers of contempt:
-Croaks someone as if below?!
And straining patience crocodile
Sharpens its tooth with green bile.
In the world of people all borders are marked.
So as not to pass on the scent of a stranger.
If the hyena passes unnoticed,
There is no way back to her alive.
There are green pastures on the planet,
Chubby hunger entry is prohibited.
There are no homes for homeless people
Even at the cemetery…
Fatty man knows no wealth account.
In the wild savanna instincts howling,
Mother-antelope was killed.
Lioness takes care of a cub,
Hunger in herself drowning.


Nigar Nurulla Khalilova is a poet, novelist, and translator from Azerbaijan, currently in the Kingdom of
Saudi Arabia. Member of Azerbaijan Writers Union.
Graduated from Azerbaijan Medical university. Holds a Ph.D Degree.

 Before My Friend Got Killed

The sky actually was blue
The streets were more spacious
Women were sitting on the thresholds of their houses in the afternoon
Telling amazing stories to each other
The cafes were full of men’s laughter
My father smiles as he tells her:
Don’t take Faleeha to the hair salon
Give your hair the color of the sun
And leave the glamour of night to my daughter’s hair
She smiles back and says  
Her name is not poetic
If it were me, I would change it
We all laugh
My mother was more compassionate
She would say 
Eat from one plate so your emotions will not be lost
And like ants on a candy bar, we would gather together
Oh, my friend
After your death
The world wore a garment of dust
The war had swept away the thresholds of our homes
Women now wear worries
Permanent sadness
Cafes are bustling with the songs of false victory
Men’s voices are hoarse from smoke
And from drinking scorching defeats
Oh, my friend
Your death spread the snow colour on my hair
If you had stayed a little bit longer
You would have seen how my name was won
 But death betrayed you
As it did my mother
And my father as well
All their advice fell on stone ears
Our lives filled up with wars, poverty, and exile
When I shout
Oh father ,
Mother,
Brother,
 Sister,
There is no echo coming back
And regret bites my heart
Oh, my friend
Can you stop your Specter from dancing in my memory
Give me ten minutes to sleep
The smoke from the plane that killed you
Suffocates my days
……………
(Dedicated to my friend Mason Hassan Kamuna which she was killed during the Iraq-Iran war)
 
 She 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 the Pulitzer Prize Nomination 2018,
PushCaret Prize Nomination 2019.
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

Poets Power
 
In the realm of chaos, we seek peace, 
Where poets' words make conflicts cease. 
With ink as our sword and love as our guide, 
We stand united, side by side. 
Through verses woven with care and grace, 
We paint a world where hatred has no place. 
In the tapestry of dreams, we stitch our hopes, 
Binding nations together with poetic ropes. 
Let the rhythm of our lines echo loud, 
As we sing of love beneath the shroud. 
Brotherhood and sisterhood, hand in hand, 
Together we'll build a peaceful land. 
So let us raise our voices high, 
And let our words touch the sky. 
For in poetry's embrace, we find, 
The power to heal humankind.

Maja Milojković was born in 1975 in Zaječar, Serbia.
She is a person to whomfrom 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 shealso is a member of the Poetry club "Area Felix" in Serbia.

The Rainless Draught

Once we were filled with rivers and fishes
Our ancestors told us the story of rain and flood
The Bangalee lived on fish and rice
Now, the rivers seen like the migratory birds
In season or out of season 
Sometimes, draught happens enough to burn the world
Sometimes water and water are everywhere
Deluging the land in the open sky
Make people and animal homeless surrounding all
Nature in us and nature outside 
Responsibly goes to the conscience
Humanity sometimes played  like instruments
In the clasp of nature –
The severe inhumanity
Sometimes, it played as a trump card
Winning the race, a common play in the world
We suffer from the pain in body or heat stroke
Or float on the land submerged by overflowing water
What’s the bridge of relation?Where the gates are set to hinder the flow
And the door closed for suffocating in the waterless rivers
People pass the days in torture for high temperature
And the rainless atmosphere
Would you please expand your hand?
O Creator! 
We pray utmost to you
The mild temperature to go in the world you made for.

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, and 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 Magazine for seven years. 

MINSTREL OF WORDS 

His sayings crashed against the walls 
His anguish was no more than another new frivolous tape, crowning a brain who played the game of errors 
Eloquence is not enough 

The heart oscillates tonight and slides off the edge of an eyelid, 
Wavering in the swamps of petty goodbyes,

Mercy... For the man who passes free from your shadow, free from you 
Mercy For those who analyze the foam of the underworld 
Wizards of the spike, 
Bonfire Bird Embalmers Memory
footprint ... Frozen 
His revolution celebrated the apotheosis of life in decline

Meanwhile, she continues to dream of a bed laced with rose petals.
She keeps forgetting the reality of her always coming back to a life full of sunshine.

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, which have been awarded several times worldwide. She works as the World Manager of Educational and Social Projects of the Hispanic World Union of Writers .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.

No Love to Go Back

How can we go back
To what's gone and done
It's hard to be blind
How our hearts changed
Don't know what to do
Feelings may've been true
All is past behind
All is done and gone
No way to go back
I have known back then 
The day it begun
You said you love me 
How our hearts changed
Don't know what to do
Feelings may've been true
Case of infamy
Life ended the fun
Have I known back then
Heaven is for us
But I did wonder
When we're together
How our hearts changed 
Don't know what to do
Feelings may've been true
There's no forever
So I did wonder 
Is heaven for us
I have lost your love
Nothing's left for us
Knew would never last
How our hearts changed
Don't know what to do
Feelings may've been true
All is in the past
What else's there for us 
I have lost your love
No love to go back...


Pained Memories 

I tried to go back
Through my life story
And it's hard to say
Hindsight's not a thrill
If only you know
That it's not funny
And I won't complain
Though it makes me chill
-
I've felt ever since
Day you came along
Said you'd stay a while
And be here with me
You didn't tell me
That you can't belong
And I trusted you
Believed all you say
-
Heaven is for us
But I did wonder
If we're together
When we kiss today
Love can't ever be
There's no forever
I cannot insist
I get what I may
-
I have lost the past
Knew would never be
All that's left for us
I wish not to see

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.

Think About It

Turning myself inside out
for you

so you can sniff and contemplate
if I'm worth a smoke

all my jokes
meaning more than tears

and you're beginning to understand
my love is beyond endless and more

faithfull
as the spin of the earth and beat of stars

so come
and make us as one....



A Way Home

Let's run together
quick step and jump holding hands
over this nervous world

sun tanning our bare backs and rumps
easy breathing and laughing
with no fear

we will be like children
long before the aging of flowers
their scent stopping time in awe

so smack your lips
we're going to kiss
a sugar dream

lasting forever!



Flight

In the air
floating

I'm your hero
and you're my Goddess

clouds soft
stopping when we want
lying upon them

sunset's far reaching fingertips of warmth
we dance naked
into a night sky of teasing stars.



Created

And when our dreams melt
we will float in the sea
under the night with the coming dawn

I seeing you and you seeing me
soon in heaven
where we were created to be.


Stephen Jarrell Williams can be found on X Twitter @papapoet