Innocence
Two families lived peacefully in a suburb of Jacmel, capital of the southeastern department of the Republic of Haiti. They are herders. Both families were well respected in the neighborhood.
One day, the Jean family was furious to see that their goat was killed by a member of the Joseph family under the famous pretext that the animal ate a few plants of corn in their garden. This unfortunate situation caused a fierce argument to the point of seeking to kill each other.
That same day, in the afternoon, the two families would face off in a fight with daggers drawn. This is when they noticed from afar two children who were flying a kite together. They were very happy, and they were playing like two wild children.
Suddenly, the two families were reconciled because one child belonged to the Jean family and the other to the Joseph family.
~Roodly Laurore
_________________________________________________
L’ innocence
Deux familles vivaient paisiblement dans un banlieue de Jacmel, chef lieu du département du Sud-est de la république d'Haïti. Elles faisaient de l'élevage. Les deux familles étaient très respectées dans le quartier.
Un jour, la famille Jean était furieuse de voir que son cabrit a été tué par un membre de la famille Joseph sous le fameux prétexte que l'animal a mangé quelques pieds de maïs dans son jardin. Cette malheureuse situation a provoqué une dispute farouche au point qu'elles cherchaient à s'entretuer.
Le même jour, dans l'après-midi, les deux familles allaient s'affronter dans un combat à couteaux tirés. C'est ainsi qu'elles ont remarqué de loin deux enfants qui montaient ensemble un cerf-volant. Ils étaient très heureux, ils jouaient comme deux fous.
Tout à coup, les deux familles se sont réconciliées parce que les deux enfants appartenaient l'un à la famille Jean et l'autre à la famille Joseph.
Roodly Laurore
________________________________________________
Roodly Laurore was born and raised in Haiti. He is an engineer and poet. His poems are published & forthcoming in Spirit Fire Review, Taos Journal of Poetry, Kosmos Journal, Autism Parenting Magazine; Solstice Literary Magazine, The New Verse News, Synchronized Chaos, Jerry Jazz Musician and others. His writing & spiritual life touches the lives of everyone who knows him. He's a role model in his community!
with a snap of the fingers
the muse wonders if i miss her
sitting alone, looking at a blank
ceiling thinking about all the
years pissed away with a snap
of the fingers
of course, i miss her
the bigger question is
does she miss me
do i linger on her mind as
she struggles to sleep
do i flash in her mind as
she begins to touch
i learned a long time ago
to never ask a question
if you weren't prepared for
an answer you didn't like
but the joy of becoming
an old bitter soul
hearing a no isn't going
to disappoint me more
than i already am
i never wanted to die alone
two in the morning on a friday
i don't think i have much of a choice
---------------------------------------------------------------
just seems more intense these days
paradise is on fire
the oceans are rising
the bombs keep falling
on the innocent
hero after hero is finding
death around that corner
i'm sure all the years
have been crazy
yet as the years go on
the crazy just seems
more intense these days
i am comfortable sitting
back and watching the
flames devour a world
i never got to visit
i have friends around
the world and i say a
little something for
them every night
before i fade out
i'm pretty sure they
all happen to live
on one-way streets
------------------------------------------------------------
the prettiest girl in the world
shooting stars
in the quiet
of the night
wishes never
seem to come
true
my mother
told me to
have patience
and one day
the prettiest
girl in the
world would
be mine
what a
fucking
lie
---------------------------------------------------------------------
a confession of sorts
whispers in the rain
a confession of sorts
never quite understanding
that everyone hates their
life
you are not special
it's a beautiful woman
telling you to fuck off
children that know
you're not the good
parent
another fucking dreamer
in a country that crushes
any dream that doesn't
involve loads of money
trace the lines of her
curves from memory
thirty some years ago
when a simple man
got as lucky as one
could get
she happened to die
on your birthday
life has never been
the same since
------------------------------------------------------------------
forever out of reach
neon nightmares of lost
lovers stranded in the
back of your dreams
close enough to picture
but forever out of reach
letter after letter returned
unopened
it's one thing to move on
it's another to be forgotten
i'm sure we'd all like to
go back and rewrite a few
chapters of our lives
turn all that childhood
misfortune into the story
of a dark knight that
becomes a hero
remember the late mornings
when the love of your life
would come over for coffee
and cigarettes
you'd end up naked, holding
each other on the couch for
hours
no clue about how steep the
upcoming hill would be
J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is old enough to know better. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Cajun Mutt Press, Horror Sleaze Trash, Mad Swirl, Disturb the Universe Magazine and The Rye Whiskey Review. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)
Turn on instantly
your
ancient soul
son
of the gesture never given
while
your step
from the
marked time
he walks mighty
and
graceful
scratch the muse
sleepy
on golden laurels
that in bed
of petals never loved
rests
laid down.
She flies without wings
and
she draws in the sky
your crazy
path
myth
adored
of nights spent
clear
of moon.
Furious awakens
the stars
already turned off
and
give it again
the breath
vital
already sister to her
of many
seasons
and
gentle springs
colored
with a sincere soul
and
from the cold feel.
Wetsuit
the paths already travelled
and
with definite substance
and
armor of iron
dressed
print yours
deep groove
leaving
flourish
to the future to come
that the sign
never given
and
never forgotten
in one breath
of pride
and of
humble passion
show some
enchanted
the true
value!
Mom
whisper of love
silent rustle
in the cradles you love
in the silence of the nights.
Looks
and love songs
those light hands
and the caresses on the faces
of children born in pain.
Mom
they are ointments
those words of yours
whisper in the night
to the chant of the lullaby.
Still your breath
on the skin and lips
pink mom in heart
your every smile
it is a wonderful flower.
The sea of life
It's like the sea
stormy
emotions agitate
confused thoughts
forgotten anchors
backdrops
still invisible
a vast ocean blue
to explore navigate.
We are small boats
the waves of life
they always toast
every moment
to our adversity
shores and hopes
they are landfalls
hoped.
We sail
silently
the storms
the swollen seas
the storms
and storm surges
they sweep like volcanoes
the faint memories
the tides bring us back
back in time.
We smile drowned
in the blues
marine waters
like shipwrecked people
we breathe
life and salt
forgetting
the acrid taste
some blood
that flows
in the sea
of life.
This sea
What is it
this sea
that drowns me
this evening
in this
blue sky
where the waves
and the tides
they caress
still
once
always
mine
emotions.
Ahhh
my life
loved life
how many times
you kissed
these waters
stir
and how many
times
you are
immersed
in the depths
of the backdrops
blue
where
the storm surges
sudden
they exhausted
submerged
drowned
my body
wet
from salt
of the ocean
immense
bed of water
infinite
sometimes
calm
other times
moved
furious
white waves
lapping
of living
daily.
Never
my life
you gave up
furious
and the sands
enlarged
of this sea
so agitated
you were
every time
privateer
pirate
and column
of the east
intrepid life
safe
of the route
tracked
in your heart
lighthouse
motionless
immersed
in the waters
stir
of this ocean
tumultuous sea
always on
never turned off.
Verses of love and poetry
And it's evening
already dampened
the lights
in the silence
of the hearth
the love
without knocking
sneak in
in family homes
everything rests on the lips
like holidays
always love.
They fly in the air
sweet melodies
suspended
in the dark night
verses of love and poetry
singing
the words of life
mute they settle down
on the mouths
still smelling
of smiles and kisses
endless dreams. ###. Little nightingale
As
you flew away
little nightingale
white your flight
and that suffering
a boulder
the words poem
on this night
dark in the heart.
You stole
the weather
you went to Heaven
mom
you are travelling
join dad
towards the stars
next to the memories.
In fate
outside the walls
now the streets
they are closed
mom is you
that book
never written
inside the lines
in the verses
of my thoughts.
Mom
those caresses
to my heart
the notes you love
and happy moments
your arms
welcoming
never tired
on my skin.
Now
mom
your breath
it is broken
broken by memory
and that pain
between the teeth
dampens life
I feel
still tight
to your chest
of infinite love
that he gave me
the life.
The poet Francesco Favetta was born in Sicily in Sciacca, he has always loved poetry, writing verses, but above all culture, food for the soul: culture is Freedom, it is Free Spirit, it is Soul in Movement, not it should never be harnessed!
In 2018 he was awarded by the Accademia di Sicilia, Academician of Sicily.
He has been published in various anthologies and in various magazines, among which, we mention a few:
international magazine The Poet;
Revista Azahar who edited the first Sylloge of Poems in Spanish: Encantamiento y Palabras como Plumas;
Anthology The Silk Road Anthology: Nano Poems for Africa; "Poetic Galaxy Atunis";
WorldSmith International Editorial; OPA The Poetry Journal; Inumbrable magazine; Magazine Polis; rank of minister in the Order of the Titan and publication of a lyric in Octobermania;
international literary magazine Kavya Kishor in Bangladesh;
international journal of language, literature and culture "Petrushka Nastamba" Serbia; international magazine, Namaste India and Certificate of Appreciation;
Different Truths social journalism platform;
Cisne Magazine Digital;
Humanity St. Petersburg magazine; fourth Panorama International Literature Festival Spain, delegate for Italy.
He founded a theater company in Sciacca: "Theatrum Socialis Sciacca", and a Lions Club, the "Sciacca Terme".
Finally, the poet Francesco Favetta is convinced that poetry will be the weapon with which humanity will make their lives free, and furthermore beauty will always be a truth that will never be buried:
from the times and events of daily human life! Francesco Favetta. Sicily (Sciacca )Italy 🇮🇹 Sleeping muse
Francesco Favetta Sicilia (Sciacca) Italia 🇮🇹. Versos de amor y poesía
Y es de noche
ya humedecido
las luces
en el silencio
del hogar
el amor
sin llamar
colarse en
en casas de familia
todo descansa en los labios
como vacaciones
siempre el amor.
Vuelan en el aire
dulces melodias
suspendido
en la noche oscura
versos de amor y poesia
cantando
las palabras de la vida
mudos se acomodan
en las bocas
todavía huele
de sonrisas y besos
sueños interminables.
Musa durmiente
Encender al instante
su
alma antigua
hijo
del gesto nunca dado
mientras
tu paso
desde el
tiempo marcado
camina poderoso
y
agraciado
rasca la musa
somnoliento
en laureles de oro
que en la cama
de pétalos nunca amado
descansa
acostado.
Volar sin alas
y
dibujar en el cielo
estás loco
camino
mito
adorado
de noches pasadas
claro
de luna
furioso despierta
las estrellas
ya apagado
y
dale de nuevo
el aliento
vital
ya hermana de ella
de muchos
estaciones
y
manantiales suaves
de colores
con un alma sincera
y
de la sensación de frío.
Traje de neopreno
los caminos ya recorridos
y
con sustancia definida
Y
armadura de hierro
vestido
imprime el tuyo
zanja
partida
florecer
al futuro por venir
que el signo
nunca dado
y
nunca olvidado
en un suspiro
de orgullo
y de
humilde pasión
muestra algo
encantado
la verdad
¡valor!
Mamá
Mamá
susurro de amor
susurro silencioso
en las cunas que amas
en el silencio de las noches.
Aspecto
y canciones de amor
esas manos ligeras
y las caricias en los rostros
de niños nacidos con dolor.
Mamá
son ungüentos
esas palabras tuyas
susurro en la noche
al canto de la nana.
Todavía tu aliento
en la piel y los labios
mamá rosa en el corazón
cada una de tus sonrisas
es una flor maravillosa.
El mar de la vida
Es como el mar
tormentoso
las emociones se agitan
pensamientos confusos
anclas olvidadas
telones de fondo
todavía invisible
un vasto océano azul
para explorar navegar.
Somos botes pequeños
las olas de la vida
ellos siempre brindan
cada momento
a nuestra adversidad
costas y esperanzas
son recaladas
esperado.
Navegamos
silenciosamente
las tormentas
los mares hinchados
las tormentas
y marejadas ciclónicas
barren como volcanes
los vagos recuerdos
las mareas nos traen de vuelta
atrás en el tiempo.
Sonreímos ahogados
en el blues
aguas marinas
como náufragos
respiramos
vida y sal
olvidando
el sabor acre
un poco de sangre
que fluye
en el mar
de vida.
Este mar
Qué es
este mar
eso me ahoga
esta noche
en esto
cielo azul
donde las olas
y las mareas
ellos acarician
aún
una vez
siempre
mío
emociones
ahhh
mi vida
vida amada
cuantas veces
besaste
estas aguas
remover
y cuántos
veces
eres
inmerso
en las profundidades
de los fondos
azul
dónde
la tormenta surge
repentino
se agotaron
sumergido
ahogue
mi cuerpo
húmedo
de sal
del oceano
inmenso
cama de agua
infinito
a veces
calma
otros tiempos
movido
furioso
olas blancas
lapeando
de vivir
a diario.
Nunca
mi vida
te rendiste
furioso
y las arenas
engrandecido
de este mar
tan agitado
estabas
cada vez
corsario
pirata
y columna
del este
vida intrépida
seguro
de la ruta
rastreado
en tu corazón
faro
inmóvil
inmerso
en las aguas
remover
de este océano
mar tumultuoso
siempre encendido
nunca apagado.
###.
Pequeño ruiseñor
Como
te fuiste volando
pequeño ruiseñor
blanco tu vuelo
y ese sufrimiento
una roca
el poema de las palabras
en esta noche
oscuro en el corazón.
Tú robaste
el clima
fuiste al cielo
mamá
estas viajando
únete a papá
hacia las estrellas
junto a los recuerdos.
En el destino
fuera de las paredes
ahora las calles
están cerrados
mamá eres tú
este libro
nunca escrito
dentro de las lineas
en los versos
de mis pensamientos
mamá
esas caricias
a mi corazón
las notas que amas
y momentos felices
tus brazos
acogedor
nunca cansado
en mi piel
ahora
mamá
tu respiracion
está roto
roto por la memoria
y ese dolor
entre los dientes
amortigua la vida
siento
todavía apretado
a tu pecho
de amor infinito
que me dio
la vida.
El poeta Francesco Favetta nació en Sicilia en Sciacca, siempre ha amado la poesía, escribir versos, pero sobre todo la cultura, alimento para el alma: la cultura es Libertad, es Espíritu Libre, es Alma en Movimiento, no debería ser nunca aprovechado!En 2018 fue premiado por la Accademia di Sicilia, Académico de Sicilia.Ha sido publicado en diversas antologías y en diversas revistas, entre las que mencionamos algunas:revista internacional El Poeta;Revista Azahar que editó el primer Silo de Poemas en Español: Encantamiento y Palabras como Plumas;Antología Antología de la ruta de la seda: nanopoemas para África; "Poética Galaxia Atunis";editorial internacional WorldSmith; OPA El Diario de Poesía; Revista Inumbrable; Revista Polis; rango de ministro en la Orden del Titán y publicación de una lírica en Octobermania;la revista literaria internacional Kavya Kishor en Bangladesh;revista internacional de lengua, literatura y cultura "Petrushka Nastamba" Serbia; revista internacional, Namaste India y Certificado de Apreciación;plataforma de periodismo social Diferentes Verdades; Revista Cisne Digital;la revista Humanity St. Petersburg; IV Festival Internacional de Literatura Panorama España, delegado de Italia.Fundó una compañía de teatro en Sciacca: "Theatrum Socialis Sciacca", y un Club de Leones, el "Sciacca Terme." Finalmente, el poeta Francesco Favetta está convencido de que la poesía será el arma con la que la humanidad hará libre su vida, y además la belleza será siempre una verdad que nunca será enterrada:de los tiempos y acontecimientos de la vida humana diaria! Francesco Favetta Sicilia (Sciacca) Italia 🇮🇹. Versos de amor y poesía
Don’t Be Stubborn tells a tale of five-year-old Sandra’s behavior as reported by her head teacher. She calls the attention of Sandra’s parents only to discover the reason behind Sandra’s stubborn behaviour.
Mr. Ben, as he is called, is a published poet, writer, playwright, essayist, lyricist, spoken words and voice over artiste. He has written a body of works that relates with several interests. His works touch on areas of education, inspiration, sexuality, entertainment, lifestyle and other interests, all with the aim of face-lifting mankind towards greatness . Given his multi-genre approach, Mr. Ben’s acrostic, G.A.N.G.S.T.A.R , which stands for Generally Appreciating Notable Genres by Stating Their Applicable Relevance, has now become his trademark. Based in Lagos, Nigeria, he delights in reading, traveling and meeting people.
ALGUIEN OBSERVANDO
Te he observado espiar tras las cortinas,
con la mirada perdida en algún horizonte,
devorando a otras gentes tan indiferentes
que machacan veredas sólo por costumbre.
He notado la inquietud de tus pupilas,
con manos crispadas por tanta impotencia,
y un suspiro profundo empaño los cristales,
sin poder destruirlos como hubieras deseado.
Te he visto observar desde tu fortaleza,
con frente sudorosa y aspecto cansino,
bebiendo la brisa que obsequia la noche,
sin penas ni glorias, solo por destino.
He descifrado de pronto tus dudas y temores,
náufrago del llanto que abraza la impaciencia,
soñando una isla sin tesoros ni puertos,
y miles de gaviotas de incesante vuelo.
Te he visto observar hacia mi ventana,
papel y lápiz en mano, escribiéndome algo,
y dudé entonces si en verdad existías
o un gigantesco espejo pendía del cielo.—
-----------
SOMEONE WATCHING
I've watched you peek behind the curtains
with the gaze lost in some horizon,
devouring other people so indifferent
who crush sidewalks just out of habit.
I have noticed the restlessness of your pupils,
with hands clenched by so much impotence,
and a deep sigh fogged the windows,
without being able to destroy them as you would have wished.
I have seen you watch from your fortress,
With a sweaty brow and a weary look,
drinking the breeze that gives the night,
Without sorrows or glories, only by destiny.
I have suddenly deciphered your doubts and fears,
castaway of tears that embraces impatience,
dreaming of an island without treasures or ports,
and thousands of seagulls of incessant flight.
I have seen you look towards my window,
paper and pencil in hand, writing something to me,
And then I doubted if you really existed
or a gigantic mirror hung from the sky.—
BREVE BIOGRAFÍA de:
Prof. Gustavo Marcelo GALLIANO
Nacido en Gödeken, Santa Fe, República Argentina. Escritor, poeta, Jurado en certámenes literarios Internacionales. Periodismo digital. Docente Universitario de la Facultad de Derecho de la UNR, en la asignatura Historia Constitucional Argentina. Miembro del CICSO (Centro de investigaciones en Ciencias Sociales). Secretario Técnico de REDIM.
Se ha desempeñado como Corresponsal Especial en diversas revistas internacionales de Arte y Literatura (Cañ@santa, Sinalefa, ViceVersa, Long Island al Día, RosannaMúsica, etc).
Integra la Red de Escritores en Español (REMES), Poetas de Mundo, Unión Hispano-Mundial de Escritores (UHE), la Fundación César Égido Serrano, Naciones Unidas de las Letras (Ave Viajera y Proyecto Mundial Semillas de Juventud), entre otras. Actualmente es colaborador especial de Revista Poética AZAHAR (España), Revista Literaria-artístico PLUMA y TINTERO (España), Revista Literaria KENAVÒ (Italia) y Revista OFRANDA LITERARA (Rumania) donde también integra el Colegio Editorial.
Ha obtenido distinciones y premios en certámenes y concursos internacionales de cuentos, narrativa, micro relato y poesía. Publicó libros (LA CITA, 5 AUTORES) y participe de antologías y revistas publicadas y traducidas en más de 100 países.
Ha sido designado como Embajador de la Palabra y la Paz por diversas instituciones: WWPO (USA), Círculo de Embajadores Universales de la Paz (Francia / Suiza), Fundación César Égido Serrano y Museo de la Palabra (España).
Reside en Rosario, Santa Fe, República Argentina.
BRIEF BIOGRAPHY of:
Prof. Gustavo Marcelo GALLIANO
Born in Gödeken, Santa Fe, Argentine Republic. Writer, poet, jury in international literary contests. Digital journalism. University Professor at the Faculty of Law of the UNR, in the subject Argentine Constitutional History. Member of CICSO (Social Sciences Research Center). REDIM Technical Secretary.
He has worked as a Special Correspondent for various international Art and Literature magazines (Cañ @ santa, Sinalefa, ViceVersa, Long Island al Día, RosannaMúsica, etc).
She is a member of the Red de Escritores en Español (REMES), Poetas de Mundo, Union Hispano-Mundial de Escritores (UHE), the César Égido Serrano Foundation, the United Nations of Letters (Ave Viajera and the World Seeds of Youth Project), among others. Currently he is a special contributor to AZAHAR Poetic Magazine (Spain), PLUMA and TINTERO Literary-artistic Magazine (Spain), KENAVÒ Literary Magazine (Italy) and OFRANDA LITERARA Magazine (Romania) where he is also a member of the Editorial College.
He has obtained distinctions and prizes in international contests and contests for short stories, narrative, short story and poetry. He published books (LA CITA, 5 AUTORES) and participated in anthologies and magazines published and translated in more than 100 countries.
He has been designated as Ambassador of the Word and Peace by various institutions: WWPO (USA), Circle of Universal Ambassadors of Peace (France / Switzerland), César Égido Serrano Foundation and Museum of the Word (Spain).
He resides in Rosario, Santa Fe, Argentine Republic.
+
Even on a Bad Day
Good process teaches
the Heart the way
for none evaporate
the Broth of Gift's
Comforts
Bring me my Love
I know I AM worthy
Even on a Sad Stray
the Left Behind are Lifted
in sight
the Merits of Life
Trust
My Eyes
touch
Fresh
Glances
of Light
for me touch
that I may know
I AM not Separated
Divine Trust
invisible
Yet still on the way
♡
............
by John Edward Culp
Morning of August 17, 2023
