Fountain Her hand leaps into the air like spray as she dances, dances through the shadows in the hushed auditorium she wraps around her all the long spring afternoon. She seems to rise in a lover's arms of air and fog and sunlight. Her eyes glimmer, her lips murmur sweet nothings. The hair flows over the brim of her shoulders down her transparent back. Swallows dance in the rain that dazzles from her fingers: she is a living fountain, and drowns all the boys. ____ Christopher Bernard is an award-winning poet, novelist and essayist. His most recent books are the first two stories in the series “Otherwise,” for middle-grade readers: If You Ride A Crooked Trolley . . . and The Judgment Of Biestia.
Poetry from Ivan de Monbrison
To walk on four legs or barefoot and to go through a wall to fall into oneself boneless eviscerated like with a hole in the head through which one could put a transparent finger and touch one's colorless brain the jar has been overflowing with pain I was so sorry for you… then to sit and watch all those atoms being scattered into oblivion drowning deep you should have started by picking up your bones one after the other to build something meaningful with them even fleshless I've heard someone crying in my neighbors’ apartment they don't know who I am anonymous building inhabited by ghosts busy with themselves busy beating up their kids abusing their wives as if they wanted to somehow decry their hollow souls
Art from Monira Mahbub
Poetry from Wazed Abdullah
Life Life's melody, a song we sing, In every breath, a new beginning. With each step taken, paths unfurl, In the dance of joy, and the storm's whirl. Moments shared, like treasures found, In the silence, hear life's gentle sound. Wazed Abdullah is a student of grade 9 in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
Poetry from Nosirova Gavhar
A wish for young people You live under a dome Above the earth in peace Searching day and night You want knowledge today. You are always eager for knowledge Towards a dream, goal, intention Looking forward to great things today Overcome the challenge. It's a good night even if it's sleepless Today is your day, even if it goes without rest One day you will definitely get it To the bright life you want. Nosirova Gavhar was born on August 16, 2000 in the city of Shahrisabz, Kashkadarya region of Uzbekistan. Today, she is a third-year student of the Faculty of Philology of the Samarkand State University of Uzbekistan. Being a lover of literature, she is engaged in writing stories and poems. Her creative works have been published in Uzbek and English. In addition, she is a member of «All India Council for Development of Technical Skills», «Juntos por las letras» of Argentina, «2DSA Global Community». Winner of the «Korabl znaniy» and «Talenty Rossii» contests, holder of the international C1 level in the Russian language, Global Education ambassador of Wisdom University and global coordinator of the Iqra Foundation in Uzbekistan. «Magic pen holders» talented young group of Uzbekistan, «Kayva Kishor», «Friendship of people», «Raven Cage», «The Daily Global Nation», Argentina;s «Multi Art-6», Kenya&;s «Serenity: A compilation of art and literature by women» contains creative works in the magazine and anthology of poets and writers.
Poetry from Muntasir Mamun Kiron
Father of The Nation Bangabandhu In the heart of Bengal, a legend was born, A beacon of hope, from dusk until morn. Sheik Mujibur Rahman, a leader so true, Guided his people, through skies clear and blue. With words that stirred, like thunderous roar, He fought for justice, forevermore. A father of the nation, with vision so vast, He led with courage, from the shadows he cast. In the struggle for freedom, his voice rang clear, Inspiring millions, dispelling fear. From the streets of Dhaka to the halls of power, He stood firm, in the darkest hour. Bangabandhu, the friend of the masses, In his presence, hope surpasses. A champion of peace, in a world torn apart, He carried the dreams of a nation in his heart. Though taken too soon, his legacy lives on, In the hearts of the people, from dusk until dawn. Sheik Mujibur Rahman, a hero so grand, Forever cherished, in Bangladesh's land. Muntasir Mamun Kiron is a student of grade 10 in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
Poetry from Faleeha Hassan
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, PushCart 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