Call My Friends And Tell Them That I Love Them
i’ve been waiting for you to call
me back. i don’t know why my
heart thinks we’re more than friends.
if i miss you too much and
end up freezing tell
the rest of them
the truth. that
i couldn’t help myself and i
am sorry that I couldn’t help but love
one more than the rest of them
Friends and Family
I often think about my faith and where it comes from in my life. It’s God’s grace that has been given to me.
We all have a place in God’s heart. I discovered my place at an early age. It was not only the circumstances of the inner city that led me to seek Him. It was something internal. There was a longing to be with Him. This was manifested by my experience of my foster mother Dee always speaking about God and Jesus. I only knew that God existed to me.
Now, 60-plus years later, my seeking is over. God is present in me. He was always there, and His Holy Son Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit. Finally, all the decades of knowing that I had been spared. Now, I have devotion to living fully in Him. The world no longer has me captured.
I turned to second Timothy 2-3, which gives me comfort knowing that I’m in Him and not the world of man. There’s a place and confidence of being saved to live in the Lord. Therefore, my faith and devotion have been sealed in my being. Each moment, I turn to Him because it’s always been natural to seek Him, and now I’m with Him here on earth.
May He be given glory for eternity.
To Everyone In My Life
As I reflect on God’s Mercy, there’s great gratitude and comfort, knowing that God’s Presence has always been with me. Now, knowing that my kidney function is declining, dialysis is a gift from God to extend my life. There’s nothing more for me than to be grateful.
I’m experiencing a renewed relationship with Christ Jesus as in childhood. It’s of great comfort to recognize that my purpose is to serve God.
I’m writing this while having treatment. The world is fading, leaving me to experience the greatness of creating. So, it is a blessing to have dialysis because it’s God’s gift of life to live.
Quarantine
I don’t have the knowledge to create a vaccine
I don’t have the capacity to donate financially
I don’t have the strength to volunteer in the frontline
All I have
Is the patience to stay at home as much as possible
Is the perseverance to make do with whatever I have
Is the desire to learn something new each day to pass time
Is the contentment that I can be just safe in isolation
Freedom comes with responsibility
If I can’t do anything to help, I can at least try not to be a part of the problem.
Moon
If only the Moon is greater
A celestial with much power
All the planets swimming in milk
Warmed by Sun inside black silk
May your reflected light shine
Against the drunkness of wine
Uncover the hidden secret line
Each great ball that mutely whine
Open up each soul to perceive
Let no word nor act to deceive
Purge out anger and fear to leave
Shield against any evils to receive
Ambitious greed to seal away
No confusion led out to sway
Only compassion here to stay
If Moon has power in her ray
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.
Accident of Los Angeles
In Los Angeles skies, bright and wide,
A sudden crash, no place to hide.
Sirens wail, hearts filled with fear,
Lives are shattered, loss so near.
Dreams once golden, now turned gray,
In the chaos of that fateful day.
Tears fall heavy, pain runs deep,
Memories the city will always keep.
Yet in the dark, hope still glows,
Through broken streets, a new dawn grows.
Strength will rise, though hearts still ache,
A city’s soul, too strong to break.
Don Bormon is a student of grade ten in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
You are my favorite place
Where gravity leans in my favor.
Dedicated to the memory of my husband Guillermo
You are the root that anchors my twisted tree,
the counterpoint to my chaotic symphony.
A blooming desert, where crystal flowers sprout in the shifting sand.
A solar eclipse that reveals the stars hidden in the day, silent heat in the frozen space.
The echo of a cosmic whisper, a melody woven with threads of silence.
You are the firm ground beneath my wandering feet, the compass that always points to my north.
The starry sky that reflects the depth of my soul, with no moon to hide its brightness.
A dark silk embrace that envelops the cold, a refuge of shadows that protects me from the light.
You are the stillness after the Big Bang,
the dawn that paints the universe with new colors.
A silent refuge where time curves around me,
my home, my peace, my everything.
Here, gravity leans in my favor, the weight of the world fades away, and in your presence, I float in the weightlessness of happiness.
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.
Fire in Los Angeles
Fire spreads all over the area
Swelling and raging at a moment
Burned the houses, trees and all the things around
Fire is not only the fire at all
A ghostly appearance haunts the earth
No time to realize it devours the whole
Fire is raging in body
Fire outside
Leaving thousands of people homeless
And death of twenty nine
The world empowered by heat with carbon dioxide
We are mankind played by
As people play with it
So wavy current flowing on body
In this form of change
People fall in hopelessness
Burning the body of nature
They are running so fast
Fire is chasing from behind like the snakes sparking
O! Fire in Los Angeles!
I always think over.
Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh
10 February, 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.
there are sounds everywhere
that you will never hear again
***
We’ll die of love
We’ll die of AIDS
Life bets at their highest
Prices for graves are rising
I kiss your imaginary portrait
Rain washes away memory with transparent watercolor
I love you like at the very beginning
I’m dying without you before and after you
Birds meet the winged dawn
Meanwhile the cast-iron night in my heart is growing to burst
***
the bird said it would be quiet and the air was filled with no one’s breath
and in the evening on the corner near the lake birds flocked and were silent
I watched the birds and was also silent, unable to move
meanwhile, somewhere far away, very close, people plucked up the courage
to yell when a stranger with the face of death roars artillery at them through the window
***
God looks like you and also like a section of forest burned under the snow
The rusty bones of the snowflakes show me the grinding path
I step quietly so as not to wake up the little Jesuses – not yet resurrected flowers
Nobody knows what will happen at the end of the road
Probably at the end of the journey we will all return home
After all the earth is cruelly looped by an ellipsoid
But now in front of me is a fork of cast-iron milk of the night
Where should I go: forward or into the future?
Each step seems like a step into the grave abyss
The cemetery stuck like a sticker to a shoe can’t be peeled off
A snowstorm begins and the voice of the wind begins Celans aria
The ivory of the sky dissolves in the eyes
I lose strength and reluctantly fall asleep on chest of the wind
I dream about you and it seems to me that now you are even more like God
My body is covered with a blanket of snow and I’m burning for the last time
***
white tea of the day
sugar time cubes
the powder of my views dissolves in your thick boiling water of silence
red triangles of the walls of the long night
You don’t /everything is obvious to everyone/