Life’s Journey
Life is a journey, a winding road,
With lightened loads and heavy loads.
It brings us joy, it brings us pain,
Like sunshine bright, then gentle rain.
Each day’s a gift, a chance to grow,
Through highs and lows, we come to know.
With love and hope, we make our way,
And cherish life, come what may.
Wazed Abdullah is a student of grade 10 in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
Green butterflies are born as a mystery
(At Eminescu’s Linden Tree)
Green butterflies in faces of bursting disappointments,
Flies among the white swans through the groves
The late silk of the grass is torn to shreds
Pollen that it spreads with honor over the pearl.
In the synapses they wave their lascivious gaze
Like crows peck at the granary
Eternal offering by deposition at the altars
Forgetting the dew that love knew.
A singing artisan bird
From the secular Linden, amazed, admires them
The sleeping grove naturally hides the path,
Under its white mantle the Earth breathes.
They are not green butterflies but swift snowdrops
Under the rays of the sun the good ones emerge.
BIOGRAPHY
Lidia Popa was born in Romania in the locality of Piatra Șoimului, in the county of Neamț, on 16th April, 1964. She finished her studies in Piatra Neamț, Romania with a high school diploma and other administrative courses, where she worked until she decided to emigrate to Italy.
She has been living for 23 years and worked in Rome as part of the wave of intellectual emigrants since the fall of the Berlin Wall.
She wrote her first poem at her age of seven. She is a poet, essayist, storyteller, recognized in Italy and in other countries for her literary activities. She collaborates with cultural associations, literary cenacles, literary magazines and paper and online publications of Romanian, Italian and international literature. She writes in Romanian, Italian and also in other languages as an exercise in knowledge.
BOOKS
She has published her poems in six books:
in Italy:
1. ” Point different ( to be ) ” – ed. Italian and
2.” In the den of my thoughts ( Dacia ) ” – ed. bilingual Romanian/ Italian AlettiEditore 2016,
3.“ Sky amphora ” – ed. bilingual Romanian/ Italian EdizioniDivinafollia 2017,
in Romania:
4. ” The soul of words” ed. bilingual Romanian/ Albanian Amanda Edit Verlag 2021,
5.” Syntagms with longing for clover ” ed. Romanian, EdituraMinela 2021.
6.” The Voice interior ” LidiaPopa and BakiYmeri ed. bilingual Romanian/Italian, Amanda Edit Verlag 2022.
Her poems featured in more than 50 literary anthologies and literary magazines on line from 2014 to 2023 in Italy, Romania, Spain, Canada, Serbia, Bangladesh, United Kingdom, Liban,USA,etc.
Her poems are translated into Italian, French, English, Spanish, Arabic, German, Bangladesh, Portuguese, Serbian, Urdu, Dari, Tamil, etc.
Her writings are published regularly with some magazines in Romania, Italy and abroad.
She is a promoter of Romanian, Italian and international literature, and is part of the juries of the competitions.
She translates from classical or contemporary authors who strike for the refinement and quality of their verses in the languages: Italian, Romanian, English, Spanish, French, German, stating that “it is just a writing exercise to learn and evolve as a person with love for humanity, for art, poetry and literature “.
SHE IS
*Member of the Italian Federation of Writers (FUIS)
*Honorary member of the International Literary Society Casa PoeticaMagia y Plumas Republic of Colombia,
*Member of Hispanomundial Union of Writers (Union Hispanomundial de Escritores) (UHE) and Thousands Minds For Mexico (MMMEX)
*President UHE and MMMEX Romania, August 21, 2021
*She had come power of attorney Vice-president UHE Romania, Mars18, 2021- August 21, 2021
*President UHE and MMMEX Romania, August 21, 2021
*Counselor from Italy for Suryodaya Literary Foundation Odisha India,
*Director from Italy for Alìanza Cultural Universal (ACU) Argentina
*Member Motivational Strips Oman,a member of numerous other literary groups at the level internationally,
*Director of Poetry and Literature World Vision Board of Directors (PLWV) Bangladesh
*Membership of ANGEENA INTERNATIONAL NON PROFIT ORGANISATION of Canada
International Peace Ambassador of The Daily Global Nation International Independent Newspaper from Dhaka Bangladesh – 2023
*Founder literary group Lido dell’anima with LIDO DELL’ANIMA AWARDS
*Founder LIDO DELL’ANIMA Italian magazine
*Founder SILVAE VERBORUM INTERNATIONAL multilingual magazine
*Founder literary currently #homelesspoetry
etc.
Leaving a Sowing of Values
Seeds of respect, like drops of dew, planted in furrows of love,
irrigation of patience, a slow spring that soothes the dry earth.
The sun of justice, a warm golden embrace, shelters its growth,
and the breeze of honesty, a fresh whisper, makes its leaves wave.
The aroma of moist and fresh earth permeates the air.
Roots of empathy, thick and deep like arms that embrace the earth, sink into the fertile soil,
sprouts of humility, tender and green like spring shoots, in a garden of wild flowers that dance in the wind.
Flowers of kindness, petals soft as velvet, of a radiant color like the dawn, open their petals to the sun,
fruits of perseverance, hard and shiny like precious stones, a treasure without equal. Its sweetness is felt on the palate, a taste of honey and triumph.
The abundant harvest, a field of golden sunflowers under an intense blue sky, of a promised future,
values sown, seeds that beat with a deep echo in the heart, in the soul.
A legacy that grows, strong and robust like a century-old oak, with strength and vigor,
leaving a sowing of values, a palpable legacy, with the weight of history and the bright future that it promises, for a better world.
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.
Time
Time passes away from us too quick
Time counts all our deeds
Time takes away all that we
Think and perform in present or past
Time ticks, time hits, time makes us live
Time switches on the light
Look so bright
Time takes to the unknown where no one can reach
Time is like the smoke within moments flew away out of sight
Time deals with the power in one
Time plays tricks to the others
Time is certain
Time is uncertain
Time opens the door to enter
Time stands as bar for more
How can I say ‘Good Bye’ to my dear ones?
We are bound to abide by the moment we depart from
Though the sky is so high
Time takes us higher than the starry sky
O time, can you tell me where I would be
After thousands of years?
I know you can’t because you are dumb and dull
I have the answer from your boss
We are always on our journey to reach Him.
Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh
12 January, 2025.
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 the 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.
Farewell
Farewell, Old Year, Farewell
To past pains do not dwell
Wipe away the burning tears
Face off all doubts and fears
Move on to a brighter future
Hope is broken dream’s suture
Farewell, Old Year, Farewell
Twelve moans of Buddha’s bell
Wipe away sin that conscience sears
Deafening gongs demon hears
Move on to a brighter future
Honor’s virtue to nurture
Farewell, Old Year, Farewell
A forecast the rooster will tell
Wipe away scars of past years
Heaven’s Golden Gate nears
Move on to a brighter future
As one’s soul slowly matures
Farewell, Comrade. Farewell
A journey you’ve travelled well
Farewell… Farewell
A new goal of journey to fill.
Snow
I wish to give him a special gift~ SNOW
Something unknown I want to show
Beauty and softness for him to know
Gift’s strangeness my face did blow
A snowball I asked his hands to hold
It is just a rock to me he sadly told
It’s coldness in his large hands I fold
So he said the rock is certainly cold
Encouraged what’s a snow he can get
Squeezed the snowball soft and wet
Told me it is a hard, wet rock he felt
Asked if rock in his hands would melt
The more of snow to him I describe
The more to a rock he does subscribe
He cannot perceive the snow’s nature
Winter is not part of his own culture
Words I have of snow for him to learn
Yet his impatience is all that I did earn
Walls to break down patiently I must
If I truly wish to win his love and trust
Inspired by a lesson learned in a Language Interpreter class. Miscommunication is not only the speaker’s fault but may be of the listener’s as well. Cultures, Emotions, Knowledge level and Situational Factors have ways of hindering one’s perception and interpretation.
Patience, Trust and Love are important factors in communication.
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.
Where am I
where am i
an extremely
cold stream
soot-streaked trees
desolate
& bare mountain
grains grow
in the roses
but
the roses reach
into the vast tracts
the wheat is dancing
beneath obsidian clouds
the rain kisses the roses
with tender lips
where am i
there are no peacocks
crowned in rainbow hues
there are no hummingbirds
alight in beams
there is no shimmering lake
to mirror Eden’s vision
i’ve forgotten
i am cast out from
the Garden of Eden
hard to harvest my soul
whispering for the time past
choking back my tears
praying
until my spirit recovers—
after
leaving god
Blue Horse
We had seen the bold and blue horse
in my dream; its strong body,
like a horse on the prairie,
like a cowboy’s horse.
It could fight, it could run.
In our hearts,
we once rode a blue horse
in our dreams,
galloping in the land of freedom.
Some pain was like a lean horse,
running fast for a moment before collapsing.
Because my sister and I—
our memories didn’t fade.
There was some joy in them,
fresh as the blue horse.
Sometimes we lacked the courage
to carry ourselves far enough to escape our family—
a home filled with liquor bottles.
Father’s face was red,
quarreling and fighting.
Illness took you away;
you never broke free from the cage.
The funeral flowers mirrored
your snow-white skin—
it was your grand festival.
In death, you become weightless.
Death carries you on a blue horse
to a place of freedom.
Minotaur
The Art Institute into Tuesday’s snow.
When my eyes opened, I was trapped in the museum’s labyrinth (Tiny as a shadow). Unknown monsters faced me, horns casting twin shadows. / Hallucination? / /Blood! People! / I want to escape the twisted halls. /
/ Too vast, the museum warped into impossible geometry. / / Blood, blood, blood, the Minotaur drinking museum’s lights like wine. / / I saw the monster devour the soul of a person, and the Minotaur ate the monsters, as if history endlessly repeats itself. /
/ Just like two sides of history’s dark mirror. / / I couldn’t separate myth from memory. The monster becomes real only in relation to trauma; both past and present might be true or false. /
/ b / bl / bla / / b, bla, b, black black black black black sun sun sun sun sun / I exorcise Munich’s beer hall memories, 1923 to1933, darkness envelops Chicago snow. I try to comprehend-histories. Outside the painting, only one museum, Inside the painting, multiple wars, The ghosts of WWII, European ghosts, red and black, bleeding.
As the Minotaur devours monsters, I seek meaning in chaos. Especially beneath the museum’s artificial lights, I remember what Minotaur told me: “The survivors of horror become storytellers, and all stories and human are one.”
In this moment, the endless snow falls silent. The black sun falls silent. Like human of memory. Like history coming to a still. Back to reality, everything is fine. I am enjoying Picasso’s Minotaur with ease.
Yucheng Tao is an international student, who has been studying songwriting at MI College of Contemporary Music in Los Angeles. His work won the Open Them Wingless Dreamer 2024 contest, and Moonstone Art Center published it.
Fires, L.A. Ashes is bright Malibu, Altadena’s palms, black, naked, gravel of bitter alms. Roses devour the monarch wood, blown from Santa Ana to a cold tide; rags left from brocades of towns, tapestries of cities burning down. Katy’s house, white against ash, drops tears into her outstretched hand. Great dragons of fire snake the night hills, seeking their reflections in abandoned swimming pools. _____ Christopher Bernard is a poet, novelist and essayist living in San Francisco.