@ All Rights Reserved for all Poets

Armenia

 

Il ricordo brilla tra le mie dita,

i miei occhi fissano controvoglia,

mentre gli uccelli migrano verso luoghi più caldi,

nella disperazione,

è la vittoria dei venti ,

non del cuore,

le mie guance non arrossiranno

per il calore della memoria.

Le mie parole seguono gli uccelli:

essi riposano dove si trova la poesia.

 

Մատներիս միջև սառչում է հիշողությունը,
սառչում են աչքերս,
ու թռչունները ճարահատ
չվում են տաք տարածքներ:
Քամիների հաղթանակն է
և ոչ սրտի,
որ այտերս չեն շառագունի
ջերմության հուշից:
Բառերս հետևում են թռչուններին.
նրանք հանգրվանում են այնտեղ,
ուր բանաստեղծությունն է

Armenuhi Sysian

Armenia

 

 Poet, writer from Armenia, author of 9 books, translated into 11 languages, participant of different international literary programs and festivals.

Sisyan, Armenuhi (Arménie) Armenuhi Sisyan est une écrivaine et poète arménienne. Ses ouvrages ont été traduits en 11 langues. Auteure de 9 livres. A participé à différents festivals internationaux et lauréate de divers prix littéraires. Elle est membre de l’Union des Écrivains d’Arménie ainsi que membre de l’Association internationale des Écrivains de Bruxelles et membre de l’Association Universelle des poètes de Kyoto

 https://www.facebook.com/armenuhi.sisyan


Argentina

LA LUNA EN LLAMAS

(A mis ancestros sicilianos)

 

Arde en el cielo la luna.

Ruge el monte apasionado.

Arde la tierra fértil,

quema mi corazón.

Las llamas feroces consumen

el alma herida de amor.

 

Luna en llamas,

fuego incandescente y perpetuo,

inunda la noche  de sombras dulces

e irradia la paz de soñar con su voz.

 

El tiempo pasa, no amanece

y la luna arde en el cielo.

 

La luna in fiamme

(Ai miei antenati siciliani)

 

La luna brucia nel cielo.

Ruggisce la montagna appassionata.

La terra fertile brucia,

e brucia il mio cuore.

Le fiamme feroci consumano

l'anima ferita d'amore.

 

Luna fiammeggiante,

fuoco incandescente e perpetuo,

inonda la notte con dolci ombre

e irradia la pace dei sogni con la sua voce.

 

Il tempo passa,  l'alba non arriva

e la luna brucia nel cielo.

 

ALEJANDRA MIRANDA

Argentina

 

Poesía : LA LUNA EN LLAMAS (2018)

Autora: ALEJANDRA MIRANDA

Nacionalidad : ARGENTINA

 

 Alejandra Miranda is a visual artist, writer and curator born in 1953 in Argentina. Director of Culture of La Paz, Argentina where she lives. FB Alejandra Miranda Arte and FB Direccion de Cultura La Paz Entre Ríos www.alejandramirandaportfolioarte.blogspot.com

PORTFOLIO:  alejandramirandaportfolioarte.blogspot.com


Azerbaijan

 

 

BİZ BİR-BİRİMİZÇÜN YARANMAMIŞIQ

 

Biz iki dünyanın adamlarıyıq,

Birində zülmətdi, birində işıq.

İki fərqli baxış, iki yad ürək,

Biz bir-birimizçün yaranmamışıq.

 

Mənim arzularım yelkənsiz gəmi,

Sənin dalğaların  aparmaz  məni.

Bu sevda dərd olar ayrılıq kimi,

Biz bir-birimizçün yaranmamışıq.

 

Qıymaram köksümdə yanan günəşə,

Sən çətin dözəsən oda, atəşə.

Nə zaman görünüb yay-qış birləşə?!

Biz bir-birimizçün yaranmamışıq.

 

Mənim yolum üstdə hər kəs mələkdi,

Sənin nəzərində hamı kələkdi.

Özünü aldatmaq nəyə gərəkdi?

Biz bir-birimizçün yaranmamışıq.

 

Hərəmiz bir ruhda. İkiləşməyək,

Ömür qatarında itələşməyək,

Bu sonu görünən yola düşməyək,

Biz bir-birimizçün yaranmamışıq.

 

NON SIAMO STATI CREATI L’UNO PER L’ALTRA

Siamo esseri umani di due mondi diversi,
È buio in un mondo, è luce nell'altro mondo.
Due cuori diversi, due opinioni diverse,
Non siamo stati creati l'uno per l'altra.

I miei desideri sono come una nave senza vele,
Le tue onde non possono spingermi.
Questo amore può diventare un dolore come una separazione,
Non siamo stati creati l'uno per l'altra.

Non voglio che il calore dell'amore ti bruci
Non posso sopportare le fiamme dell'amore.
Chi ha mai sentito l'estate e l'inverno insieme?
Non siamo stati creati l'uno per l'altra.

Io penso che tutte le persone sulla mia strada siano angeli,
Ma per te tutte le persone intorno sono impostori.
A che serve ingannare te stesso?
Non siamo stati creati l'uno per l'altra.

Ognuno di noi ha uno spirito diverso, da non dividere
Non spingiamoci l'un l'altra sul treno della vita.
Non impostiamo una strada la cui fine è vista in anticipo
Non siamo stati creati l'uno per l'altra.

 

 Tarana Turan Rahimli

Azerbaijan

Tarana Turan Rahimli is an Azerbaijani poet, writer, journalist, translator, literary critic, teacher, academic. She is a PhD in Philology, Associate Professor of Azerbaijan State Pedagogical University, author of 8 books and more than 400 articles. The work has been published in more than 21 Western and Eastern countries.

https://www.facebook.com/teraneturanrehimli

 http://www.wnwu.org/index.php/en/our-members/275-tarana-turan-rahimli

 


Cameroun

 

Le temps nous contemple

Couper les arbres

Les incendier

Détruire la nature

Piller ses richesses

Faire disparaître les espèces

Polluer

 

Le temps nous contemple

Et un jour

Il reprendra son temple.

 

 

- Sylvain, Nana

Cameroun

 

Sylvain NANAD est Poète, nouvelliste Camerounais né en 1979. Il est comptable de formation. Il a participé à plusieurs Anthologies de haïkus et de poésies brèves. Homme et pénombre et La fragilité des sens sont ses recueils déjà parus. https://www.facebook.com/nanad.artiste https://www.facebook.com/sylvain.nanadauteur 

 


Canada

 

LUMINOSITÉ

 

Dehors comme dedans

la lumière est partout

et rayonne dans l'ombre des tourments

et les broussailles du quotidien

               

elle est poésie dans les plaines

comme dans les villes

elle s'écrit

elle se dit

elle se chante

sur tous les tons

sous nos pas désordonnés

 

Inutile de la chercher

elle est là dehors

et au-dedans

elle est…

 

Huguette Bertrand-

Canada

 

Poète et éditrice, Huguette Bertrand a publié 38 ouvrages de poésie dont plusieurs en collaboration avec des artistes en art visuel et photographie. De nombreux textes ont paru dans diverses revues et anthologies internationales imprimées et en ligne. Certains de ses poèmes ont été traduits en plusieurs langues. http://www.espacepoetique.com

https://www.facebook.com/huguette.bertrand.9

 

 


Egypt

Women Rights

 

don't try to introduce my skin to your skin
cause such introduction doesn't let the light to get in
don't try to prove me as your servant
while starting my talking about the equality between women and men!
don't try to teach me the art of life now and then
cause my life is my life
I am not your plastic woman

I am a free and clever idea
traveling from south to north
I am a free and clever idea
seeking boldly for the truth

don't try to name me by your names
unfortunately, I am not one of your games
I am the eternity tale of Eve
who spent her life, tries to think
tries to believe
and don't wrong me
this is my essential battle to be!
so, don't try to silence my voice
as a fake reason to get rid of the noise!
and don't wrong me
this is my essential battle to be!

I am a woman with high ambition
a poetic soul looking for full expression
so, don't try to introduce my skin to your skin
cause such introduction doesn't let the light to get in
don't try to prove me as your servant
while starting my talking about the equality between women and men!

 

Amirah Al Wassif

Egypt

Amirah Al Wassif is a freelance writer from Egypt. She has written articles, novels, short stories poems and songs. Five of her books were written in Arabic and many of her English works have been published in various cultural magazines. She has 2 published English books: For those who don’t know chocolate and The Cocoa Boy and other stories.

https://www.facebook.com/amirah.alwassif 

 

 


India

 

SMARTPHONE'S ADDICTION

 

What the hell   !

Smartphone has made everyone enthral.

It is neither fake nor a lie, Spectacles  are  seen  on  everyone\'s eye.

 

At shop ,office ,home or sitting alone,

No work done today in the absence of smart phone.

 

Youth, middle age or old,

Looks like they all watching mobile phones recklessly, with their brain sold_

 

Student's grades are getting low, At last they just say Oh! no,

Holding their teacher 's and parent's toe,

Ensuring that they will enhance, Just in flow.

 

Everyone has become smartphone's addict, After realization of time wasted on it ,

Our mind say Oh! shit .

 

On proper utilization of              smartphone,

We will                definitely get a full fledged tree, With the seed which was sown .

 

-Sahaj Sabharwal

-Jammu city,

Jammu and Kashmir, India .

 

Sahaj Sabharwal is a student and a young poet.

He loves writing poems and thoughts.

He lives in Jammu city, Jammu and Kashmir, India.

https://www.facebook.com/sahajsabharwal

 


Japan

 

“One thousand frogs”

 

 

千の蛙たち

 

1

Today I saw one thousand frogs

They came nearby me

I'm falling in my sorrow.

 

今日僕は蛙たちを見た

僕のそばに来て

僕の不幸の中に落ちていく

 

2

They were sure

that you would come.

Divine journey.

 

蛙たちは知っていた

君が来るだろうと、

運命の旅

 

3

They are all sad.

Yes,  all one thousand of them

dressed in mourning.

 

みな悲しんでいる・・・

そうだ、千の蛙たちみな・・・

喪に服すかのように・・・

 

 

4

They were happy

to baptize you with love,

to give you the song.

 

蛙たちは嬉しかった

君を愛で洗礼し

歌を与えた

 

5

No! I don't cry

But if not, is it their croaking

that makes me blue?

いや、僕は泣いてはいないよ

でなければ蛙たちの声が

悲しくさせているのか

 

 

6

My sweet frog,

my rose petal,

---am I already dead?

 

僕の愛しい蛙

僕の薔薇の花びら

僕は死んでしまったのか

 

 

7

This is life.

But your charm reminds me

of my promise.

 

人生とはこんなものだが

君の魅力は

僕の約束を思い出させてくれたね

 

 

 

8

Fate sometimes

swallows darkness, too

and rejects it.

 

運命は時々

暗闇を飲み込み、

それを拒絶するね

 

10

Japan is far away,

but your scent lives

even in my eyes.

 

日本は遠いが

君の香りはまだ

僕の目の中で生きている

 

11

It will be autumn

when we can meet together.

The thousand frogs are all calling to you, to you!

 

秋だろう、

お互いに会えるのは

千の蛙たちが呼び合う、君を、あなたを

 

Maki Starfield

Japan

 

Maki Starfield was born in Japan where she studied English and American literature, teaching and business, with further work in Canada. She has published poems, haikus and translations in JUNPA publications http://www.ama-hashi.com

https://www.facebook.com/maki.starfield


Mauritius

Products of Life

 

Why, if having a heart and heaving with its flow

On high tides, riding its waves with a majestic pretence

And accepting its falls with humble palms

Makes of me a fool, one stupid enough as to be used,

Pray, know that my feelings, in the very end, are that

Which allow me to live, as humanly as anyone on Earth would!

 

My pains are similar to those felt by the rest of the world

Same goes for my joys,

And that makes of life a prison, senseless and meaningless,

Revolving on itself without purpose, taking us

There where the road ends, propelling us not on the way forward,

Rather, pushing us back to those same bold waves we have been

Riding on!

 

Is this the essence of life then? whispered my tears to the wind,

We fight battles that are not worth fighting for,

We stress ourselves out only to emerge as losers

Why, we live, only to die, as if we were raw materials, needed

To create products, which once used, and abused of,

Can be recycled, mercilessly!

If this is life's meaning, then, pray, glorious be Inexistence's peace

 

Name: Anoucheka Sweety Gangabissoon

Country : Mauritius

Anoucheka Gangabissoon is a primary school educator in Mauritius. She writes poetry and short stories. Her works can be read in various literary magazines like SETU, Different Truths, Dissident Voice, In Between Hangovers Press. She has also been published in Duane’s Poetree and also in two anthologies for the Immagine and Poesia group.

https://www.facebook.com/Anoucheka-Gangabissoon-182505115619259/

 



Rose- Hill* Wakes Up


At some distance, a rooster crows
fulfilling the reflex action of early morning
Corps de Garde mountain diffuses
the unique colours of dawn
Sparrows chirp joyfully
the golden song of daybreak
Black pigeons boldly maintain
their acrobatic equilibrium on electric wires,
then, carousel in the sky
The golden sun rises
un-curtaining the tropical blue


Sounds of doors opening,
adults walking, children giggling,
cars, motorcycles and buses rushing
echo all around Rose-Hill
Busy-ness has woken up
The friendly business-town opens
its eyes wide examining its agenda
A challenging day is awaiting it
Rose-Hill will surely make it.

Vatsala Radhakeesoon,

Mauritius
Author’s note: Rose-Hill is one the business towns of Mauritius where I grew up and actually live.

Vatsala Radhakeesoon is a published Mauritian author/poet and literary translator. She writes poems and short stories for adults and children. Her works mainly center on emotional issues, social facts, historical facts, spiritual quest and childhood innocence.

https://www.amazon.com/author/vatsalaradhakeesoon1710


Mongolia


ҮНДЭС

 

Би амьд

Энэ голын үндэсийг, энэ өвсний үндэсийг

Энэ тэнгэрийн үндэсийг, энэ хадны үндэсийг

Энэ шүлгийн үндэсийг

Харж амьдардаг

 

Би үхэхдээ

Энэ үндэсний шүлгийг, үндэсний хадыг

Энэ үндэсний тэнгэрийг, үндэсний өвсийг

Энэ үндэсний гол мөрөнг мөрөөднө

 

Root


I’m alive

I can see the root of rivers

the root of grass

the root of the sky

the root of rocks

the root of poetry.

 

When I pass away

I’ll dream the poetry of the root

the rocks of the root

the sky of the root

the grass of the root

the rivers of the root.

--

Sendoo Hadaa

 

 

Sendoo Hadaa (born.1961) is recognized as a great poet of the 21th century. He is a member of the Union of Mongolian Writers. In 2006, he founded the groundbreaking World Poetry Almanac which he continues to edit. Since 1989, he has published 19 books of poetry.

https://www.facebook.com/hadaa.sendoo


Nigeria

MORNING PICTURES

 

Pictures also have a way they call for names,

I mean for darkness in a body, & an eclipse in the mind…

Somehow, pictures are spirits hung on the wall, a nail to the body,

a memory dancing to every single beat your heart produces,

& a message that inspires you to write your way

into a street which calls you to BAR –

a Body Asking for Repentance; maybe for a scene

unknown to you, or a sin your memory cannot capture,

& possibly the faces in a magazine you cannot fathom

but the editorial reads “Death becomes them”.

Sometimes, pictures become every part of your body,

your body becomes darkness, & every street is

a replica of graveyard; since somewhere, a picture

is an empty room with a dove hanging on the window pane,

a white-paper and a ball-pen on a creaking table,

& a boy holding up himself against darkness – gravitating

towards a gun – I mean a call into darkness just as the faded shadow.

& somewhere else, a picture is the body of a girl fighting the devil

while a walk into her ‘heaven’ is through the glass of water in her hand,

or perhaps a Snipe-her, calling her into an unknown world,

 & a noose hanging over her head like her loosened bra;

Since pictures also have a way they call for names,

I mean for darkness in a body, & an eclipse in the mind…

 

Name: Timileyin Gabriel Olajuwon

Country: Nigeria

 

 

Timileyin Gabriel Olajuwon hails from Osun State, Nigeria. He is an international multi-award winner. His poems have appeared in poetry journals, magazines and anthologies. He is the Managing Editor of Muse for World Peace Anthology (An anthology of contemporary poets propagating peace) and the Chairman/Executive Director of Muse for Peace Foundation (An initiative established to promote peace through Art, Education, and Humanitarian Services)

He is the author of “Call for Retreat” 2013, "The Muse"2017 and “Apeke and other poems” 2017– collections of poems.

https://www.facebook.com/olajuwon.timileyin


Pakistan

THE AUTUMN'S SAGA

 

When I witnessed

Spread deadness everywhere

 

I asked: O Autumn

Why God haven't poured

Mercy in you;

You squeeze and suck

Life from every living unit around me

 

Autumn Smiled and Said:

 

I am little part of Nature

On this great planet of

Of this enormous universe,

And there is a duty of every being,

All are doing their assigned duties

 

And I am doing my duty;

 

What is your duty? I asked again

 

Mu duty is to;

Break the inertia of Nature,

Bless nature a unique beauty;

Of quietness, deadness, and of waits

Erasing scars from nature,

Erase  tired and sucked life,

To save the sperms of dying life,

Open new windows for new life,

And gift every new life a new spring

 

Thoroughly Explained? Asked The Nature

 

Name: Muhammad Azram,  

Country: Pakistan

 

Poet and Author Muhammad Azram hails from Pakistan. His literary work and books continue to be published widely and his poems reside in numerous international anthologies and magazines. His selected work has been translated into Italian, Spanish, French, Serbian and other international languages. https://www.facebook.com/muhammad.azram.79

 

 


 

 

Emergency Management

 

We always kept a file like that,

never in storage but stacked right

in the front of the file shelves;

the papers in it obviously important,

sheet upon sheet of strategic plausibility,

names of hospitals closest or farthest,

contact numbers, routes and alternatives,

floor plans, exit points,

alarms, extinguishers,

bells, directives, instructions,

the file elaborate with impeccability.

 

Every detector serviced.

Every detail practiced.

Every minute planned.

Every personnel briefed.

Every student counted.

 

The thin black file must lay thick

under piles of dreams that were written

like capsules of time across blackboards,

the forbidden notes passed between benches,

the half-eaten lunches stuffed into desks,

the open pages of student diaries,

and the open books of history.

 

Name: Sheikha A.

Country: Pakistan

Note : Poem based on December 16
th 2014, Peshawar Massacre

 

Sheikha A. (b. 1982) currently lives in Pakistan. She has authored a short poetry collection Spaced (Hammer and Anvil Books, 2013). Her work has appeared in several anthologies and poetry reviews.

Her poetry has also been recited at a couple of events, the recent of which was 100 Thousand Poets for Change held in Larissa, Greece. She edits poetry for eFiction India.

To read more of her works, visit her website: sheikha82.wordpress.com.


Portugal

 

Ausência

 

Querido, vai-se o dia fugazmente

O sol se põe e quase ferozmente

Uma ansiedade abarca-se de mim

Na tarde triste, qual rosa jasmim

 

No ar andam fragâncias, tantas flores,

São pétalas suaves, tantas cores,

Amores que se estendem pelo chão

E vêm alegrar meu coração

 

Percorro passos lentos cada rua,

Minha alma, sem te ver, parece nua

E oiço o caminhar de tanta gente

Num tempo de verão, alegre e quente

 

Pela vidraça olho o imenso espaço,

As aves a cantar sem embaraço

Tão lindas melodias lá no ar

Que a surda brisa vem acompanhar

 

No meu entardecer, a nostalgia

O meu destino triste contagia,

Interrompidos sonhos que se vão

De um coração tão cheio de paixão.

 

Caro, il giorno se ne va fugacemente,

Il sole tramonta quasi immantinente

L’ansia mi cinge così ogni altra cosa.

O triste tramonto! Tal gelsomino rosa.

 

Assenza

 

Nell’aria vagano fragranze, tanti fiori,

Sono petali soavi, tanti multicolori

Si estendono per la terra con amore

E vengono portar allegria al mio cuore.

 

Percorro passo lento ogni strada muta

L’anima mia, senza veder te, pare nuda

Odo i passi e il calpestio di tanta gente

All’estate e alla gioia non porgo mente.

 

Per la vetrata intravedo immensi spazi

Gli uccelli cantano senza esser mai sazi

Meravigliose melodie vagano nell’aere

Che la lieve brezza ha cura di scortare.

 

Nel mio crepuscolo, vince la nostalgia   

Il mio destino è triste senza più fantasia

Sogni interrotti, dissolti senza illusione

D’un cuor tanto pieno d’ogni passione.

 

ROSA MARIA SANTOS

Portugal

 

 

 

Rosa Maria Santos, natural de Braga. Livros editados: Rosa jasmim (poesia), Capa do Mestre Adelino Ângelo, Julho 2018. Tem também nove e-books: 2 de poesia de Natal; 1 de poemas; 3 de “As Aventuras de Bolachinha”, de prosa e poesia; 2 de contos, “Pétalas de Azul” “Estórias em tons de Rosa” 

 

https://www.facebook.com/rosamaria.santos.581 

 

Biografia traduzida língua italiana

 

Rosa Maria Santos, nativa di Braga. Libri pubblicati: Rosa jasmine (poesia), copertina del Maestro Adelino Ângelo, luglio 2018. Ha pubblicato anche nove e-book: 2 di poesie natalizie; 1 di poesie; 3 di "Le avventure di Bolachinha", di prosa e poesia; 2 di racconti, "Petali di blu" "Storie  nella tonalità di rosa".

 

https://www.facebook.com/rosamaria.santos.581

 


Romania

 

 

 

Printre rânduri

 

Dincolo de orice,

Poezia este modul frumos de a depăşi orice intemperie.

Primăvara în care ai venit,

e tot primăvară,

şi tu eşti primăvara.

Dincolo de discuţiile siropoase,

mi-ai lăsat toată această înflorire pe umeri.

 

*

Copaci înfloriţi pe străzile Romei,

frigul de acolo,

frigul de aici,

toate fricile şi temerile.

,, Nu te-am acoperit cu gândurile mele’’?

 

*

Dincolo de orice motivaţie,

timpul.

 

*

Ți-am spus că îți respect hotărârile.

Te-am lăsat să stabileşti limitele.

Poți face din mintea mea

un obiect decorativ,

un set de bijuterii,

un tablou fotovoltaic…

şi chiar o linie aeriană,

pentru că aici,

în mintea mea,

există întotdeauna un adevăr.

 

 

 

Between the Lines

 

Beyond anything

Poetry is the beautiful way to go over any trouble

The spring when you came is any spring and you are the spring ...

Beyond syrupy talks, you put all this blooming on my shoulders

*

Flourishing trees in the streets of Rome,

Cold over there,

Cold over here,

All the fears, all the dreads,

”Haven’t I covered with my thoughts?”

*

Beyond any motivation,

The time ...

 

*

I told you I would accept your decisions

I let you set the limits

You can turn my mind

Into a decorative object,

A pile of jewels,

A photovoltaic panel …

Or even an airline,

That is because here,

In my mind,

There always is some truth.

 

 

Florina Carvaci (Isache),

România

 

Florina Carvaci (Isache) Florina Isache, Born on February, 17th, 1968, Romania, in Roşiorii de Vede, Teleorman County . Childhood spent in the village Zâmbreasca, Teleorman County.

 Poet, member of the Writers' Union of Romania, USR

By Books:

Iesirea din anotimp  (Out of the Season) -  2006, Punct Publishers (Bucureşti)

Mă voi întoarce pasăre (II will be back as a Bird), supplement  of the Oglinda Literară” magazine, Focşani, 2011.

Ploi în oglinzi (Mirrored Rains), Tipoalex Publishing House,  Alexandria, 2014.

Drum în casa de iarbă (A Path in a Grass House), Pleiade, 2016.

https://www.facebook.com/florina.isache


Russia

Mission of Empathy

 

The Other is the poor and destitute one, and nothing which concerns this Stranger can leave the I indifferent.

 

-Emmanuel Levinas

 

 

Laughing stranger, how

can you face so

beautifully this

hesitant world? Surely the wind

is at your fingertips, future

warming up to you. How

can I know you best?

 

Dying stranger, left to rot

in the cell, face

furrowed by worry and dust. Your

shaking hands. Light bulb

on a wire; every

dark thing you shared. How

did you weave your perilous days?

 

Tired stranger, an intersecting line

in living geometry. Here we are. Every

string was pulled so

we could meet. Your face

shines with mysteries

to learn. How

can I hear you clearly?

 

Molotkov Anatoly

Russia/USA


Born in Russia, A. Molotkov moved to the US in 1990 and switched to writing in English in 1993. His poetry collections are The Catalog of Broken ThingsApplication of Shadows and Synonyms for Silence. Published by Kenyon, Iowa, Antioch, Massachusetts, Atlanta, Bennington and Tampa Reviews, Hotel Amerika, Volt, Arts & Letters and many more, Molotkov has received various fiction and poetry awards and an Oregon Literary Fellowship. His translation of a Chekhov story was included by Knopf in their Everyman Series; his prose is represented by Laura Strachan at Strachan Lit. He co-edits The Inflectionist Review. Please visit:

https://www.amolotkov.com/


Syria

 

 

I am not here

 

 

I am not here

I am not listening to you

Some clamor had forgotten to end the call in my head

Opening my windows to the night's rusty tables,

To knives those still stuck in the necks of lovers,

Coffins the night composed on the tune of waiting,

Soldiers' shoes which lost their owners,

Bags the vacuum has burdened,

Seas which belch the prayers of the ones who died on their way to life,

Songs those mock the departed,

A sky that tightens the dawn's ear,

Houses which changed their names,

Flags whose colors got throaty

And barricades whose sands ran away from the noise of their voices..

To awakening speeches

But no one left to read,

So please; do not scratch my silence

I am not with you

Some tomb had forgotten the phone hanged on inside my head

 

Then turned the curtain down.

 

Shurouk Hammoud

Country: Syria

 

 Shurouk Hammoud is a poetess, literary translator, editor, journalist. She has three published poetry collections in Arabic language and one published poetry collection in English titled The Night Papers. She won six literary awards. She has been published in many poetry anthologies in France, Serbia, Netherlands and India. 

https://www.facebook.com/shorokhamod?ref=br_rs 


South Korea

Three Haikus

                                

 

In the fresh green of May

I dip my eyes over and over

like the artisan dyers of Japan.

 

It's not history or

culture I do this for.

It's just beautiful, he says.

 

If I could live the way

they do, I would dye the

whole world green.

 

Kyung-Nyun Richards

South Korea

 

Kyung-Nyun Kim Richards is a poet, essayist, and award-winning translator of Korean literature. Bilingual and bi-literate in both Korean and English. She writes in both languages. Her publications include four volumes of translations; two collections of original poems : Vision Test, KEL & CCC Editions, 2016 and From East to West, poetry, as co-author, Édition En Marge, Canada, 2017. https://prabook.com/web/kyungnyun_kim.richards/701617?profileId=701617 https://www.amazon.com/Vision-Test-Kyung-Nyun-Kim-Richards/dp/089304220X


TAIWAN

沉雲落霧就哪方?

 

 

昨天夜裡

這雲霧襲襲而來

分明不願意

饒過我心裡的慌

四周

不知哪裡可以落個腳踏實

不知哪裡可以落個

腳踏實

 

清晨

帶著惶恐與不安

開口輕聲求

那化不開的茫茫一片

只願分我

一道微微的陽光

就這麼一道

微微的陽光

 

雲霧不願與陽光合好

總叫人

肚裡不時疼痛

何時

竟已捲入

兩者的爭紛

 

老是脫不了身

 

唉呀

老是脫不了身

 

 

Where Should the Falling Fogs Fall?

 

 

 

Late at night

That clouds blotted out the sky and the land

Obviously, it didn’t want to forgive any panic in my heart

Took a look around with my guilty conscience

I didn't know where was my safe landing home

 

In the early morning

With full of fear and anxiety

I gently pleaded to

Those far and wide there is nothing to be seen but the white

Hope it could be given to me

A shoot of slight sunlight

O, just such

A shoot of

subtle sunshine

 

Clouds were not willing to be in harmony with the sun

Always

Made my stomach felt pain from time to time

When?

I have been involved in the dispute between the two

Unable to get away

My eye!

How could I not get away?

 

Tzemin Ition Tsai

Taiwan

 

Dr. Tzemin Ition Tsai (蔡澤民博士) is from Taiwan, Republic of China. He is a professor at Asia University (Taiwan). His literary works have been anthologised and published in books, journals, and newspapers in more than 40 countries. https://www.facebook.com/tzemintsai


Turkey

NOW İS THE TIME

 

The clutter of that abstract time is

a fingerprint on the ruins of the ancient cities

Limbs of unknown skeletons

have been taken out of them up to their hands

Starting with their mouths and eyes

The sense of making space of the turnings

that remained distant passes the place where it touches

It passes through all the living spaces

through the fertile womb

through a nibbled apple

through the passions that harass while taking root

It unquestioningly passes into the soil

Now the things experienced while we are alive

are unfortunately rather far removed

from creating a new measure

whose subject bears human values

on the scalepan of the day and night

identified with their black and white

interconnected by motion

Prohibitions divinely enthroned

suddenly fall down in the middle of our humanity

like a meteor

moving away from the vital one

with a deadlock they impose violence

on freedom for which innocence has passion

within its own nature

The metal coins on whose image death is written

are not widely accepted under their own wreckage

of the blood-sucking fascist dictators

who appraise the massacre of mankind

not having been able to learn their lesson from the historical range

 

So now's the time

it’s time to think once more

decluttering in favor of mankind

 

in order to bring the days that suit mankind

 

 

Serpil Devrim

Turkey

 

Serpil Devrim Member of IWA Bogdani 

Born in 06 January 1960 in İstanbul-Turkey

Her interest and love for poetry and literature began in her middle school years.

She worked in Istanbul as an IATA agent and foreign trade company owner for 15 years and she moved to Canada. She worked at İnternational Logistic company and lived there for 12 years. After returning to Turkey, she started to publish her work.

She has published a Novel, and several Poetry Books and Short Stories.

 Serpil Devrim has won the Muammer Hacıoğlu Literary Award for her book One Half is Half Done in April 2018.

 

 http://www.iwabogdani.org/2018/12/18/serpil-devrim-turkey/

 

 


United Kingdom

The Darkness Has Fallen.

 

 

You came and you brought sunshine

You drove away the rain

Your smile shone like a sunbeam

But now you’ve gone. The pain

Is piercing my heart right through

With a lance so sharp and long

That I know I don’t want to be

Left alone to sing our song.

 

I want to be there with you

Wherever it is you are

I want us to be together again

Like we have always been so far.

I never wanted you to leave me,

I never thought that you would go

But now I’m standing here alone

Wondering how it can be so.

 

I always thought that I’d go first

It never crossed my mind

That I’d be standing here today,

Distraught, and almost blind

With the tears that I cry

The saltwater of my grief

I wish I could wind back the clock

Time is such a callous thief.

 

 

Tom Higgins

UK

 

Thomas Higgins started to write poetry at the age of fifty five when he felt he had an urge to say something. He has written several hundred poems since then. He is an artist too. He lives in the far North West of England in what is called the Lake District

https://www.facebook.com/tom.higgins.90?fref=ts


USA

God, Love, Truth, and Light

 

 

If you want God

I can show you to the forest

but that’s a tree you’ll have to find yourself

 

If you want Love

I can point at the moon all day

but it is the night that you’ll be needing

 

If you want Truth

I can teach you all about addictions

but that’s a drug you just can’t shake

 

If you want Light

I can flash these shining sirens

but, sadly, most choose to fall back asleep

 

 Dio, Amore, Verità e Luce



Se vuoi Dio

posso mostrarti la foresta

ma c'è un albero che dovrai trovare da solo.

Se vuoi amore

posso indicarti la luna tutto il giorno

ma è della notte che avrai bisogno.

Se vuoi verità

posso insegnarti tutto sulle dipendenze

ma questa è una droga che non puoi proprio scuotere.

Se vuoi luce

posso accendere queste sirene splendenti

ma, purtroppo, molti scelgono di riaddormentarsi.

 

Scott Thomas Outlar

USA

 

 

“God, Love, Truth, and Light”

Italian Translation by Mihaela Melnic

 

Scott Thomas Outlar has published A Black Wave Cometh, Dink Press, 2015 and Songs of A Dissident, Transcendent Zero Press, 2015. A full length poetry collection Happy Hour Hallelujah is forthcoming in 2016 through Creative Talents Unleashed. He has had more than 700 poems published in over 160 print and/or online literary venues, along with dozens of essays, articles, and short stories. https://17numa.wordpress.com/


Only

 

Do you want to be famous?

I'll make you a rose instead.

You will wake in the morning,

opening your beauty for a distant shining world.

They will not see you.

The truth scares the crowd.

Light strikes from on high,

and true gold is found in your eyes of delight.

Your happiness is not trivial or subordinate

to an impossible goal.

Love is in your deep black heart of nothing,

vast fathomless secrets.

Nothing is a treasure

and you will seek revolutions to turn,

like pebbles in the sea.

The sea too is empty and fathomless.

Your heart aches with mercy and a dream.

A dream, alas! that may be.

Your eyes forge a hypnosis of faith...

the sea looks to you for wind.

You are, somehow, you are,

and should love only that you are.

 

Dustin Pickering

United States of America

 

Dustin Pickering is founder of Transcendent Zero Press and editor-in-chief of Harbinger Asylum.

He placed as a finalist in Adelaide's short story contest in 2018.

He is a former contributor to Huffington Post.


 

Psalm 151

            to Leonard Cohen

 

You grew sick of us and stepped off the planet.

         Too many times we had sung Hallelujah.

 

For seven days we sat there

          as tears perfused the silted eddies.

 

Days and more days passed

          and this is what we told ourselves:

 

All you seem is and now that is done.

         And the river rose and it flowed once more.

 

And so we were rescued

         and there were little miracles too.

 

Such as some day our becoming

          roots, trunks, and limbs.

 

And, for two crows then to perch

          on our branch at dusk.

 

More than a year has passed

         the time for mourning is over.

 

Now we realize

         we had been too ready to condemn David.

 

And would that matter?

          And did you know?

 

 

Neal Whitman, US

 

Neal Whitman lives on the Monterey Peninsula with his wife Elaine: they are members of the Monterey Bay Aquarium where Elaine finds inspiration for photography and Neal for poetry.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/neal-whitman-56d206b54940a