The Earth's Bond
The earth's electric bond like the bond of them
Once my friend uttered --
Electric waves flowing in her blood
"If you touch some more I'll die"
Rolling some more switched on the light
Happy the lives flowing over time
Mesmerizing the sound of the wind
From the east in the morning
On the coast of the sea
The mystery of the earth's existence woven the same
Rising and falling the current of the body.
Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh
26 August, 2023
Fight
Where and how we became defeated
How and where the war is conducted
We count the deaths and the wounded
People fight, people plight
People flee away from the ground
The children die, the mothers cry
Died by and for from both sides
The leaders laughing loud
Firing on the burning cloud
The oceans -the rivers blocked for a few
How should we explain what we see?
Where and how we glee?
In the reflective war
We all the suffers so far
One part of the world is fighting
The other part lay flat -the hungry painting.
Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh
26 August, 2023
Human life
The past of human life is a memory,
the future is a desire.
Time is short, life -
built in the course of the divided time.
Sabrid Jahan Mahin is a student of grade 9 in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
Bangabandhu
In a land where hope was draped in despair,
A voice emerged, bold and rare,
Bangabandhu, the harbinger of light,
Guiding his nation through the darkest night.
His words resonated with a fiery passion,
Igniting flames of freedom in every heart and emotion.
With his unwavering determination,
He fought for justice and liberation.
Through trials and tribulations, he stood tall,
A beacon of courage, inspiring us all.
Bangabandhu, the father of our land,
Led us towards prosperity, hand in hand.
He dreamed of a nation, free from chains,
Where equality and progress would reign.
He fought for the rights of the oppressed,
In his vision, humanity was blessed.
His conviction and sacrifices were profound,
As he built a nation on solid ground.
With love and unity, he bridged divides,
A symbol of strength, where hope resides.
We remember Bangabandhu, a true leader,
Whose legacy echoes, making us stronger.
His spirit guides us, even today,
To strive for a better world, come what may.
Let his words echo in each generation,
Inspiring us with unwavering dedication.
Bangabandhu, the hero of our land,
Forever cherished, we proudly stand.
Chapainawabganj
Chapainawabganj, a place where rivers flow
A land of beauty, where stories grow.
With fertile fields and green landscapes wide,
This place fills my heart with joy and pride.
The Padma River gracefully winds its way,
Through the heart of this town, day by day.
Its gentle ripples and soothing sound,
Echo the charm of this sacred ground.
Golden paddy fields stretch far and wide,
Underneath the sun's warm and golden tide.
As farmers toil with sweat on their brow,
Nature's blessings surely doth endow.
The mango groves fill the air with sweet perfume,
As spring arrives, casting away all gloom.
Here, amidst orchards, nature's melody plays,
With birdsongs that brighten all our days.
Chapainawabganj, a tapestry divine,
With history etched in every ancient shrine.
The Rajbari's regal presence reminds,
Of the grandeur from a bygone time.
The people, hearty and kind, greet with a smile,
Their warmth and hospitality, never dial.
With folk songs and dances, their culture thrives,
A celebration of life, that forever survives.
In every corner, the tales of the past,
Whispered by ruins that have come to last.
They remind us of heritage, strong and true,
And our duty to preserve, for me and you.
Chapainawabganj, a land so dear,
Forever etched in memory, crystal clear.
May it prosper and flourish, as the years unfold,
A treasure trove of wonders, a beauty untold.
Don Bormon is a student of grade 8 in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
A Journey of the Couple Soul
Two landless souls emerge from one land of earth,
Breaking the wall of border,
Crossing the bondage of fear,
Going to ignite the fire of lust
Like with sparrow's passion,
Wearing tilak of phoenix bird's ashes
That they can wander throughout the whole world,
To set fire on every injustice,
To offer love to all.
They want to give birth a new world of unity
Where everyone will get sunshine, air and water equally.
The wing of couple soul has apparently started journey to the way of the world,
To spread aroma of peace across the World Village.
Aklima Ankhi, poet, storyteller and translator from Cox'sbazar, Bangladesh. Born in Mymensingh, Bangladesh. She has a published poetry named "Guptokothar Shobdochabi" written in Bangla.She is a post graduate in English Literature. As a profession she is a Lecturer in English.
LETTER TO BENJAMIN K.
"While Tito was alive we all had it better." -
we giggled saying what we could not witness.
We, children of the nineties, with the burden they pointed at us,
we would put it down together with our backpacks in front of the cafe "Tito", then continued...
The alley seemed endless, acacias in bloom, everything smelled.
Bee humming added difficulty to the smell...
He said we would pick the flower at night when the bees go to sleep,
that acacia veins reach deep and spread wide,
that even when generations change,
these trees will remember at least parts of our faces and voices...
Then he walked for a long time, he touched the rough bark of the trees,
he looked through the treetops at the sky and remained silent.
And he was silent.
Then we would go back,
sat opposite each other for a long time,
and the silences grew over the hills and pines.
His coffee was black as night. Not even a drop of my white coffee can dilute it.
The tanks around us were warning us with an eerie park silence.
I used to be quiet too.
And he would already get up, drink the last sip while standing,
take the load with his hands, put it back on his back and leave.
And he left.
I'm writing a letter that I won't send.
Address known.
The recipient's language has changed.
The noun "pain" is not of the same genus anymore.
I'm walking in the park,
trees are the curators in this Museum of Remembrance,
by moving the branches
pictures come pouring in,
wistful scents dance.
If nothing,
it seems to me at least
that
I understand better the language of sadness
on the faces
of passers - by.
Azemina Krehić was born on October 14, 1992 in Metković, Republic of Croatia.
Winner of several international awards for poetry, including:
Award of university professors in Trieste, 2019.,„Mak Dizdar“ award, 2020.
Award of the Publishing Foundation of the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina, 2021.
„Fra Martin Nedić“ Award, 2022.
She is represented in several international anthologies of poetry.
Oh, My Friend
Oh, my friend,
To be honest, I cannot understand you.
We talk to each other in different languages.
You are always saying something I don’t know
And I always answer: “We are colleagues!”
Oh, my friend,
Race and language do not matter for us
Even social status is not important.
I know that you are also proud with me,
You recite poems of Mashrab by heart.
I read works of Goethe for you,
Verses by Pushkin always make us cry.
Dumbadze, O Henry, and Makhtumkuli…
I recite ghazels of Navoi so high.
Staring with astonishment in your picture,
Even though you do not know who I am,
You follow my words only with silence
And you pray God to ask for a safe world.
Either in Azeri, either in Turkish
Or in English language you send your hello.
Oh, my friend,
I thank you bending my stubborn head down
In the destinations of our pure love.
We have the same goal and the same dream,
We are on the way for the same destination.
We both are sharing the same world to live
Saving this world is our ambition.
Oh, my friend,
May we be always proud,
I hope our children will follow our path.
We have pure dream and greatest goal
Because we possess the greatest heart.
Oh, my friend,
I thank you bending my head down…
RAIN
Rain, You may rain,
Wash this dirty world,
Wash the street of hatred,
Street of envy,
And the evil of our souls.
You may rain,
Let the earth be clear,
Let the tulips blossom in the embrace of hatred,
Never let children to cry in pain,
And wash the hands of ugliness,
Wash the throat of those whose tongue is poisonous,
Rain!!! Expel the odds to the middle of nowhere,
So that they understand who they are.
May the world be beautiful,
May it be full of fragrance.
May stars never fade in the sky,
Rain, Come with hope in every drop,
Actually, peace is the greatest joy.
Rain,
Oh, my rain,
Rain nonstop.
Sharipova Zuhro Sunnatovna (Zahro Shamsiyya) She was born on April 9, 1969 in the Nurata district of the Navoi region. Her first poem was published in 1985 in the Gulhan magazine. Uzbek publishing houses published works in the journal "Sharq Yulduzi", in the literature and art of Uzbekistan - "Ma'rifat", in various regional and district newspapers. World almanacs in Canada, -2017 in Dubai WBA 2018 "Turkish poets of the world" (Buta 3) 2019, "Muhammad Yusuf izdoshlari" 2017 almanac. She published her book "Ismsiz tuigular"
LOVE SET FIRE ON ME…
The love has set fire on me,
I burnt in sparkles, did you see?
You can see the dance of fire,
Won’t you come to rescue me?
Or, are you afraid of fire?
Can’t you come to me closer?
I fell like sky into your world
Which was quiet like the water.
Dry and wet on fire now,
Here, we burning face to face.
We are growing beautifully
In this awesome fireplace.
Shamsiya Khudoynazarova Turumovna (February 15, 1973) was born in Uzbekistan. Studied at the Faculty of Journalism of Tashkent State University (1992-1998). She took first place in the competition of young republican poets (1999). Four collections of poems have been published in Uzbekistan: “Leaf of the Heart” (1998), “Roads to You” (1998), “The Sky in My Chest” (2007), “Lovely Melodies” (2013). She wrote poetry in more than ten genres. She translated some Russian and Turkish poets into Uzbek, as well as a book by Yunus Emro. She lived as a political immigrant with her family for five years in Turkey and five years in Ukraine. Currently lives in Switzerland. Married, mother of five children. It was not possible to publish poems and translations written by the poet in the next ten years.
