Across The Rift We constantly try to go across the rift If only we get accepted by the hand Our land is green but still we leave Moving over to find greener pasture If there were no airplanes Some would go across on bare feet To a place the mind paints as good Risking the quotidian lives in a desert. Sabrid Jahan Mahin is a student of grade 9 in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
My School The name of our school is Harimohan Government High School. This is one of the biggest and oldest schools of Bangladesh. A place of pride for the students. The school has a great reputation. Reputable for us. We have gotten the school, By a great person’s contribution. His name is Harimohan. He was a big landlord, His full name is Harimohan Mallik. The school has many great achievements. It has been considered the best school of Rajshahi Division in Nineteen-Eighty-Seven. Our school has many co- curricular activities. Scout, Red-Crescent are worth meaning. The students of our school are very smart than the other schools. The teachers of our school are very skilled than the other schools. The technologies of our school are very advanced than the other schools. So, I feel very proud to be a student of this school. Don Bormon is a student of grade 8 in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
Filthy Game of Sun and Water Filthy game between Sun and Water, Has sharply started severely; The conspiracy of witch Air Who is the protagonist by blowing madly. Innocent Earth shivering with fear. Water trying to sink the Sun into his strong current with his wet hand Trying to extinguish sunshine. For Water raging earth's heart turns into flood land; blacken the whole world with thick darkness. Rising up high, Sun attacks mercilessly - Like a thirsty bitch quaffed water as wine. By sipping with greedy lips; Soaked the heart of Ocean- Aridity grasped the whole Earth's throat. Cracking sound of breaking World is heard. Ah! lovely mother Earth misusing as a center of a battle ground Filthy game of Sun and Water. 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.
FOUR SEASONS WITH DEAD LEAVES… Passed four seasons with the dead leaves, Which season we have expected other than this, Why haven’t we bloomed in any season? Why have all of them hated us, What bad evil have we done to them while, We were busy with ourselves and the world?… 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.
Purpose of Everything If one is to drink water, urinate to dispose water, and later be thirsty again. What is the use of drinking water? If everything is for naught? Why do most creatures eat, sleep, labor and fight to survive? Some believe in life after death, but there are those who do not. Why do they persist doing good when there are others doing bad? If everything is for naught? Why mate, procreate and strive daily in order to have better life? Why do people even care to seek to understand when all is for naught? Why do people seek power, fame, and glory when all is for naught? Or is everything really for naught? Deadliest Weapon Guns to be banned. Knives to be banned I am waiting for when rocks are banned. After all, a rock was known to be the first murder weapon. Or so I heard about Cain and Abel. But then, how should we go about herbs, drugs, missiles, bombs, media and tongues? Mind is the deadliest murdering weapon I think. With so many ways of killing weak and innocent ones, even without any logical reason at all. With so many wicked moves for different kinds of death, not only by losing one's life. So sad that it is innocent ones being snatched from the living stage, and the culprit never dies, just changing names and bodies to dwell in. So sad, when the culprit is being protected, while the innocent ones are ignored. When data is accepted without confirming the accuracy of information. So sad, that right belongs to the might, and blame belongs to the shield. When one is compelled to stand on the sides or be a collateral damage as well. So sad, that a candle lighted to face the darkness seems to be losing a battle against a collective wind that trespasses a private room. 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 consider poetry as a voice for Truth in pursuit of Equality and proper Stewardship of nature despite the hindrances of distorted information and traditions.
Emotions Feeling sick is a feeling that will come and go. The heart will tremble, the heart will break, It will make your heart beat again, It's a powerful feeling, to burn from the inside. Sometimes you can't hold back the tears It has rained and it is flowing because of the sadness. You can't remove the pain from your heart, Hiccup - hiccup out of resentment. It's futile to protest the world, This is a prison for everyone. Someone's punishment is fun, fun, For some it is hard labor, pain, torture. Fates are written for everyone, It's hard to get rid of it. No matter how far he goes, He came again and passed through his birthplace. He did not break hearts, if we approach privately, Everyone will respect each other, It would be great if we could live by the law. Then the world will also respite. 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 AM YOUR FLUTE Hold me in your hands, my dear God use my body and words Hug me tight and rule my life I am yours, I am your flute I don't see my life any other way than in your safe hands, play so that by your sound I feel that I am alive. Your turns of fingers and lips make me lose my "taste" for this world of lies. I'm yours, I'm your flute, hold me and never let me go from your embrace. DON'T LOOK AROUND When those people close the door of their heart it's their choice, thank you because when you are rejected, you are accepted by God. The disappointment is not without reason it's all a lesson of life, and we are relieved when the tears flow, we get rid of sadness. When someone doesn't want your company, give thanks to God, for God places the pieces as on a chessboard, everything has already been played, we are observers. Never beg for the friendship you want Respect those who love your company and never look back for those who leave. When there is no sincerity, God separates people. 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 shealso is a member of the Poetry club "Area Felix" in Serbia.