My Motherland
 
Bangladesh, so fair and green, 
A land of rivers, where dreams convene. 
From the Sundarbans to the Chittagong Hill Tracts, 
In your diversity, our unity interacts. 
With a history rich, and culture profound, 
In your tapestry of life, we're forever bound. 
From the bustling cities to rural fields so wide, 
In your embrace, our hearts and hopes coincide. 
Your people, resilient, kind, and bold, 
In your stories and songs, their tales unfold. 
Bangladesh, my homeland, you shine so bright, 
In your embrace, we find our guiding light.

Muntasir Mamun Kiron is a student of grade 10 in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.

The River 

River flows, like a winding song, 
Nature's dance, both swift and strong. 
Mirror of the sky, a shiny glance, 
A watery journey, in a rhythmic trance. 
Stories whispered to ancient stones, 
Time's soft flow, like quiet tones. 
An adventure grand, forevermore, 
A river's tale, simple and pure.

Wazed Abdullah is a student of grade 9 in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.

Writer’s Block

When I try to write
I sense that millions of readers are
Crowding the paper’s edge,
Kneeling, genuflecting, and lifting their hands
To pray for my poem’s safe arrival.
The moment it looms on my imagination’s horizon,
Gazing at the concept in a diaphanous gown of metaphor,
Young people smack their lips—craving double entendres.
Meanwhile, with piercing glances, the elderly scrutinize
Its juxtapositions and puns.
Then the concept smiles shyly, dazed at seeing them.
On the paper’s lines both young and old meet for a discussion,
But my words resist
And erect walls of critical theories.
Then the paths of personal confession contract,
Contract,
Contract.
My imagination calmly shuts down,
And the conception retreats inside my head.
At that hour, it afflicts my world with
Bouts of destruction.
Workers refuse their paychecks.
Farmer let their fields go fallow.
Women stop chatting.

Pregnant mothers refuse to deliver their babies.
Children collect their holiday presents but
Toss them on the interstate.
Our rulers detest their positions.
Kings sell their crowns at yard sales.
Geography teachers rend their world map
And throw it in the waste basket.
Grammar teachers hide vowel marks in the drop ceiling
And break caesura by striking the blackboard.
Flour sacks split themselves open, and the flour mixes with dirt.
Birds smash their wings and stop flying.
Mice swarm into the mouths of hungry cats.
Currency sells itself at public auctions.
The streets carry off their asphalt under their arms
And flee to the nearest desert.
Time forgets to strike the hour.
The sea becomes furious at the wave
And leaves the fish stuck headfirst in the mud.
The shivering moon hides its body in the night’s cloak.
Rainstorms congeal in the womb of the clouds.
The July sun hides in holes in the ozone layer,
Allowing ice to form on its beard and scalp.
Skyscrapers beat their heads against the walls,
Terrified by the calamity.
Cities dwindle in size till they enter the needle’s eye.

Mountains tumble against each other.
My room squeezes in upon me, and
The ceiling conspires against me with
The walls,
The chair,
The table,
The fan,
The floor,
Glass in the frame,
The windows,
Its curtains,
My clothes, and
My breaths.
The world’s clarity is roiled.
Atomic units change.
I vanish into seclusion,
Trailing behind me tattered moans and
Allowing my pen to slay itself on the white paper.
.......................................................
by Faleeha Hassan
Translated by William M. Hutchins

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

Vague

It's morning
Sitting alone in my room
Looking around the outer
Nothing clear through the glass
All seem to be vague in my eyes
In the nature's lap
I pay heed to any sound
Only the birds chirping I can hear
To recollect the past I find all obscure
In this cold foggy morning
The sun has not yet risen
All seem to be hazy
I passed the days 
So many days from my life gone by
Like the broken glass
The world appears to be blurred
In this foggy morning
The more I keep on for brightness
The more it darkens the world
Trembling in cold here in this lonely space
I hear the sound of birds only
What are they calling?

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh,
13 January, 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 an International Online Magazine - Synchronized Chaos from America for seven years. 

A dream is also a life
 
Tonight you came to my sleep from afar 
As if the wheel of the sky had changed, 
I could see you up close 
Remove the thread that has already been untied. 
He brought me what was not mine, 
Hijra, longing ended, 
This undying love was finished by the rose alone, 
We turned to the direction of the wind. 
Again your gaze was enchanting, 
Alas, your eyes were flowing, 
Your hand was not resting, it was caressing, 
Just like the crane feathers, dear ones. 
You gave me hope, you said a lot of words, you made my broken heart happy, 
I read a poem, you listened too, The sky itself was stunned by this love.

Elmaya Jabbarova was born in Azerbaijan. She is a poet, writer, reciter, and translator. Her poems were published in the regional newspapers «Shargin sesi», «Ziya», «Hekari», literary collections «Turan», «Karabakh is Azerbaijan!», «Zafar», «Buta», foreign Anthologies «Silk Road Arabian Nights», «Nano poem for
Africa», «Juntos por las Letras 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.

I'VE COME
 
I have come to you poetry 
To give me, to be 
Not to look at me 
To become a lime, today, a lonely street 
I have come to die, or not to die in love 
Starting between heaven _ earth 
Between two steps, inhabiting heartbreak and praise 
I have come deceitful, distrustful like a late hope, to tell you so much luck as denial 
The birth as the farewell. I have come to you poetry accomplice .. To bare my soul!

GRACIELA NOEMI VILLAVERDE is a writer and poet from Concepción del Uruguay (Entre Rios) Argentina. Based in Buenos Aires, she graduated in letters, 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. 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.

FEEL THE RHYTHM OF FREEDOM!
 
We poets are like fish in a glass cage, 
many admire us because we are displayed as living figures, 
we swim in the comfort zone, 
where others will say that our love poems in a collapsing world 
are very important as themes, 
and congratulate us on a nice outfit. 
Yes, we are sublime poets who stand for peace in the world 
and for a free life in the salty sea, we don't know. 
We are scared because 
we heard that some dead fish are floating in the sea. 
Sharks and some larger fish stalk the tiny souls. 
And we so glorious in our poetic movement, 
we kiss the hand that carries our food and directs our bodies, minds and words. 
Sometimes we are on the surface, sometimes at the bottom, 
but it is important that we are protected. 
We watch the audience 
following our movements as we swim in the limited space 
of our personal freedom and peace. 
Feel the rhythm of freedom! 
It vibrates in my mind as I want to jump over the glass edge, 
and even if I were to swim alone in the sea, 
at least Poseidon will see my desire.

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.