@ All Rights Reserved for all Poets
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
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.
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
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
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.
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
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
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
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
“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
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
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.
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.
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.
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 16th 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.
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
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.
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?
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
Things, Application 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:
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.
Three Haiku
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.
Naturalized citizen of the U.S, she has been a resident of California for more than 52 years.
https://prabook.com/web/kyungnyun_kim.richards/701617?profileId=701617 https://www.amazon.com/Vision-Test-Kyung-Nyun-Kim-Richards/dp/089304220X
沉雲落霧就哪方?
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
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/
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.
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
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.
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