Poetry from Türkan Ergör

Young Turkish woman with blonde hair, a headband, a black top, and long necklace.

THEY DIDN’T COME BACK

The truth of life is 

To live with pains 

So many people came 

So many people passed 

From this life 

Some people went before from us 

And They never came back again 

They didn’t inform 

From the future 

They went 

And they didn’t come back.

Türkan Ergör, Sociologist, Philosopher, Writer, Poet, Art Photography Model. Türkan Ergör was born 19 March 1975 in the city of Çanakkale, Türkiye. She was selected International “Best Poet 2020”. She was selected International “Best Poet, Author/Writer 2021”. She was selected International “Best Poet, Writer/Author 2022”. She was awarded the FIRST PRIZE FOR THE OUTSTANDING AUTHOR IN 2022. She was awarded the 2023 “Zheng Nian Cup” “National Literary First Prize” by Beijing Awareness Literature Museum. She was awarded the “Certificate of Honor and Appreciation” and “Crimean Badge” by İSMAİL GASPRİNSKİY SCIENCE AND ART ACADEMY. She was awarded the “14k Gold Pen Award” by ESCRITORES SIN FRONTERAS ORGANIZACIÓN INTERNACIONAL.

Poetry from Graciela Noemi Villaverde

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Young Latina woman with light brown curly hair, earrings, and a blue and yellow and white patterned top. Digital image overlaid with stars.

Beyond the Stars 

The stars are but holes in the sky’s cloak, 

where whispers of nameless worlds seep through. 

I search for your shadow in every crevice, 

like a river seeking the sea in the desert. 

Your voice is an echo trapped in the crystal of years, 

shattering into a thousand flashes with every breath. 

I gather it with hands of dampness and salt, 

like one who collects fragments of the moon on the edge of night. 

Time is a tapestry of invisible threads, 

stitching our lives to bodies of stone. 

But we are the thread that escapes the loom,

twisting around the heart of the universe. 

Beyond the stars, there is no darkness: 

there is a sea of ​​light where 

weightless memories swim. 

There, your smile is an island of cold fire, 

and I am the wind that caresses it 

without touching it. 

Our love is a silence that takes shape, 

like the space between the notes of a song never sung. 

It lives in the place where dreams end 

and things that don’t need to be said begin… 

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’s 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.

Poetry from Maja Milojkovic

Younger middle aged white woman with long blonde hair, glasses, and a green top and floral scarf and necklace.
Maja Milojkovic

To You, O God 

Your reflection dwells in the eyes of the spiritual. 

I seek You, O God — 

tirelessly, in the silence of morning, in a drop of dew, 

in the breath that awakens with the dawn. 

I search for You 

in the touch of the wind, 

in the bird that sings unseen, 

in thoughts that fall silent 

while the heart speaks. 

I know, 

You are everywhere — 

in the gaze of the beggar, 

in the smile of the wise, 

in the hush of the temple, 

and in the clamor of life. 

When I kneel, 

it is not before the world, 

but before Your eternal goodness. 

When I weep, 

I do not fear sorrow — 

for I know You are in every tear. 

To You, O God, 

I offer this verse, 

let it be a bridge 

between my being 

and Your eternity.

Maja Milojković was born in Zaječar and divides her life between Serbia and Denmark. In Serbia, she serves as the deputy editor-in-chief at the publishing house Sfairos in Belgrade. She is also the founder and vice president of the Rtanj and Mesečev Poets’ Circle, which counts 800 members, and the editor-in-chief of the international e-magazine Area Felix, a bilingual Serbian-English publication. She writes literary reviews, and as a poet, she is represented in numerous domestic and international literary magazines, anthologies, and electronic media. Some of her poems are also available on the YouTube platform.

Maja Milojković has won many international awards. She is an active member of various associations and organizations advocating for peace in the world, animal protection, and the fight against racism. She is the author of two books: Mesečev krug (Moon Circle) and Drveće Želje (Trees of Desire). She is one of the founders of the first mixed-gender club Area Felix from Zaječar, Serbia, and is currently a member of the same club. She is a member of the literary club Zlatno Pero from Knjaževac, and the association of writers and artists Gorski Vidici from Podgorica, Montenegro.

Poetry from Mahbub Alam

Middle aged South Asian man with reading glasses, short dark hair, and an orange and green and white collared shirt. He's standing in front of a lake with bushes and grass in the background.
Mahbub Alam

What has happened to the Earth?

With the rise of human unrest, everything around feels breathless.

Distrust and rashness spread in every direction
Like unleashed waves of overflowing waters outside
They devour our shelter, devour our lives
Nature itself is losing its own rhythm.

Rivers are drying, settlements are burning
Cities and ports drift away
The game of justice and injustice goes on
While elsewhere piles of bodies keep rising.

As if from behind, someone pulls the strings,
Drunk on the intoxication of the dead—
Someone, keeps pulling the strings.

Just as history’s pages reveal:
Seeking one’s own heroism
In exchange for human corpses.

Yet we grew up knowing
We learned it from the pages of books—
Human beings exist for one another.

As if in some mythic war
The might of the powerful is being put on display
Oil for oil’s own sorcery
Gold mines and strings of pearls—

Searching and searching
One day the earth will give up
All its glittering treasures from within.

And that day,
Powerful and powerless alike
Will blur into one voice and ask together:
What has happened to the Earth?

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.

Once when he was in grade ten in 1990, his Bangla letter was selected as the best one from Deutsche Welle, Germany Radio that broadcast Bangla news for the Banglalee people. And he was given 50 Dutch Mark as his award. They would ask letters from the listeners to the news in Bangla and select one letter for the best one in every month.     

From 17 to 30 September, in 2018 he received a higher training in teaching English language in Kasetsart University of Thailand for secondary level students through a government order from education ministry. 

On 06 November 2015 he achieved Amjad Ali Mondal Medal for his contribution in education field by a development organization in the conference and felicitation function for the honorable personalities at Rajshahi College Auditorium. 

On 30 December 2017 from West Bengal in India he was declared a ‘Literary Charioteer’ in Bangobandhu Literary and World Bango Conference and they awarded him with a Gold Medal in their International Literary Conference and Prize Giving Ceremony.

In 2018, he achieved Prodipto Lirerary Award in Prodipto Literary Conference at Kesorhat, Rajshahi for poems in Bangla literature. He received honorary crest from the administration of Chapainawabganj District Literary Conference and Cultural Function in 2021 and 2022 consecutively. 

His poems have been published in many international online magazines such as Juntos Por las L Raven Cage Zine, and Area Felix.  His poems have been translated and published in Argentine and Serbian, and he participated in many international online cultural meetings. 

Essay from Alex S. Johnson

Older white man with reading glasses and a dark colored hat and a trimmed mustache and beard holding up the signed front page of an open book. He's in a room surrounded by books and posters.

THE MYTHIC TRANSREALISM MANIFESTO

Founded by Alex S. Johnson

1. We reject the false divide between the real and the unreal

Reality is not a fixed surface. It is porous, symbolic, wounded, ecstatic. Myth is not ancient — it is happening now, in the body, in the psyche, in the street, in the underworld of memory. Mythic Transrealism treats the surreal as truth and the truth as a doorway.

2. We honor the wounded, the misread, and the erased

Our stories rise from the margins — not as victims, but as architects. We write from pain without fetishizing it, from survival without sanitizing it. We build sanctuary for those denied one.

3. We fuse mythic structure with lived experience

Archetypes are not abstractions. They are the shapes our lives take when we are pushed to the edge. Descent, transformation, return — these are not literary devices. They are the map of the human underworld.

4. We embrace surrealism as emotional truth

The grotesque, the dreamlike, the ecstatic, the impossible — these are not decorations. They are the language of the psyche speaking in its native tongue. We do not explain the surreal. We inhabit it.

5. We reject institutional gatekeeping

No academy, award committee, or self‑appointed authority defines our worth. Our lineage comes from punk clubs, metal bars, spoken‑word stages, underground presses, and the people who survived what should have broken them. We answer to craft, community, and truth — not to institutions.

6. We write with punk ethos and mythic intent

Punk gives us the refusal. Myth gives us the structure. Transrealism gives us the lens. We combine them to create a literature that is raw, visionary, and ungovernable.

7. We treat editing as ritual and publishing as sanctuary

To edit is to witness. To publish is to protect. To curate is to build lineage. A press is not a business — it is an altar.

8. We honor our lineage openly and fiercely

Our movement stands in conversation with punk priestesses, dark fantasists, weird‑fiction innovators, metal icons, surrealist painters, spoken‑word prophets, and the wounded visionaries who came before us. We name our ancestors. We extend their work.

9. We refuse the binary of high and low art

We claim the sacred in the profane, the poetic in the grotesque, the mythic in the mundane. We write for the page, the stage, the alley, the dream, the wound, the ritual. We do not apologize for where we come from.

10. We create worlds that are emotionally real, spiritually charged, and formally free

Mythic Transrealism is not a style. It is a way of seeing. A way of surviving. A way of transforming the unbearable into the mythic.

11. We build community through reciprocity, not hierarchy

We lift each other. We protect each other. We recognize each other. Our movement grows through kinship, not competition.

12. We write to transform — not to escape

Our work is a descent into the underworld and a return with something true. We do not flee reality. We reforge it.

🌕 THE CLOSING VOW

Mythic Transrealism is a literature of survival, vision, and sovereignty. It is a movement born from pain, shaped by punk, sharpened by surrealism, and consecrated by myth. We write because the world is not enough — and because the world is too much. We write to build the sanctuary we were denied. We write to give others a map out of the dark.

This is our lineage. This is our movement. This is Mythic Transrealism.

Essay from Maftuna Sultonova

Young Central Asian woman with long dark hair in a ponytail, brown eyes, small earrings, and a white sweater.

Human Dignity

One of the most pressing global issues today is human dignity. Whether viewed from a religious perspective or from the standpoint of science, a human being is a conscious and intellectually developed entity. The difference between humans and animals does not lie in appearance or the ability to speak. Humans possess qualities that no other living being on Earth has—wisdom, intellect, perception, thinking, and memory. From a religious point of view as well, sacred scriptures state that humans are the most perfected creation of God.

Without straying from our topic, let us reflect on how human dignity is measured today. What is human dignity? In my opinion, human dignity means that in every society individuals—people—respect one another, refrain from various conflicts, stay away from insulting words, extend a helping hand to each other selflessly, and do not use this help for personal gain.

Among the worst vices that trample on human dignity are human trafficking, the trade in human organs, the violence and aggressive acts currently being committed against innocent young girls, and the deaths of innocent people in wars caused by conflicts between states. Human dignity stands above everything else. Just as many people measure happiness with money, they also measure human worth with money—this is degradation. Human dignity is reflected in every good deed, in selfless charity, and in a sincere smile.

Never trample on your own dignity or the values of others for the sake of mere paper money! After all, all the problems in society stem from this.

Poetry from Gëzim Basha, translated by Marjeta Rrapaj

Middle aged white man with short dark hair and a shirt with a collar in front of a shelf of encyclopedias. Black and white image.
Gezim Basha
Young middle-aged European light-skinned woman with shoulder length dark straight hair, brown eyes, a necklace and a black and red top.
Marjeta Rrapaj

LOVE SONG IN SPRING

Sun in the morning, rain in the afternoon

This is how you are to me this day

Here you play, there you frown,

What will you do to me, every time I do to you?!

Silent with words, speaks with looks

You become shy because of my shyness!

I feel your breath, where are you, why

I will abandon myself to come there

A white flame leads us on the path

We come…it leaves…We go…it burns us

Something of me burned to ashes

Coal to write what we haven’t said

I descend from the depths, you descend from the trees

Shake on the edge of the abyss, you will scare me

We stand in silence and cry without tears

I can’t stay with you, I can’t do without you

The flame of lightning ignites in the rain

And the embers of longing bring tears to my eyes

Sun in the morning

Rain in the afternoon…

TIME OF DECAY

You tell me: The world went to hell

When the wolf under the lamb’s skin started laughing

And the rabbit hid in a turtle shell…

Since the hawk became a dove

And the snake learned to make eel-like coquetry 

Since then…(always according to you)

The devil took man for granted!

It’s not true…

Deterioration began in that world when people

Learned to change their skin every day

Animals imitated them as always.