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International Poetry الشعر শ্লোক ကဗျာ ליבע ਪਿਆਰ өлүм

International is not exactly what we are going for here. We have been publishing poetry from the USA, UK and Europe, as well as Canada, Australia and various non English speaking, European and American Countries. We already have a pretty good Chinese connection with S Ye's Translations, and occasionally other places. 

As your publisher, I review almost all the submissions, though I don't make a decision on very many pieces, as we have a great team of editors who are better at that task than I am. You see, if you haven’t figured it out, I am the Peter Sellers character from Being There. I am a pretty good poet, of a certain style. I love people, but I am a bit of an arrogant S.O.B., one part OCD, one part Manic (rarely depressive, though). My one thing that I do is everything. If I see something I wish there was one of, and there isn’t, I look around and try to persuade the better souls and brighter minds to do it. If they don’t, I do it, often badly. But I live the life of the story of the Stone soup. I have found if I will build a fire, find a pot, and boil some water, pretty soon I have a room full of chefs who can actually cook. Better than Starbucks is a shining example of that!

The thing is, I am not very smart, or very well educated, so it is hard for me to explain, but there is often a cultural distinction in the writing of the places I have listed and the places I haven’t. It not quite an east versus west, nor Christian versus Muslim or English versus “Foreign.” And I don’t think it breaks so cleanly that one editor will be able to cover 54 African countries, and all 50 Asian countries from Afghanistan to Yemen. Ideally, we will find a team of contributing editors who can cover the desk as poems come in. We will still publish only English literature, or at least English translations and the original, as I have no reason to believe non English readers make up a large portion of our audience.

At first, starting this month, I, Mr. Everything, will jump in and likely do poorly. I am nervous about “segregating” cultures, but I can't seem to sort out a better way. As always, if you have a better idea, if you think you might make up part of the team of editors (volunteer, sorry, for the foreseeable future there are no paid positions at BTS), contact us, you may be in the masthead and on the page title by this time next month.

We are going to start off with an African and two Asian poets.


holding us like babies
teaching us the kindergarten alphabet,
four years will be over
everything will be fine
building on an empty land
hypocrites will emerge
on the high hill of calamity
babbling every four years of grace
watering the solid land with honey,
all will be fine
false hope is everything
I wish,I wish
that is the lay man
dreaming of walking.


We have gone so far
we are not kids anymore
sucking the milk from the breast
let's face the things
before us in this land
no one knows
how this four years
will look like
everyone wish is to live a better life
not a life of confusion
where to be or where to move
we live not for the leaders
that have no wings to fly
slowing us down
when we need to fly
this is the land we fought for
this is our land not for racism
but to live in peace and unity.


My heart
ceases to function
so my brain
stops to think
so I wonder
where would I be,
when I'm gone?

The beauty
of the earth
is fading
so the birds sing
the song of laughter
so I wonder
what is the meaning,
of the song?

The drummers drum
so the dancers dance
to the rhythm of the drum
so I wonder
what is the rhythm,
of the drum?

Gabriel Eziorobo is a writer and poet from Nigeria.

Tune of nature

        Floating galaxies in infinite space
are emitting light proclaiming presence,
the explosions in it fire bullets of stars
which are torn into pieces of planets.

Earth cools down rotating around the sun,
mighty waterfalls form lake on the plain,
the moonlit sky brings calmness around,
the trees sway on beach with murmuring sound.

 He is mine

Hardly any praise,
always contradiction,
talks on trivial matter
go wrong, no compromise.

I am miserably incorrect.
She weeps in heart
though shouts at me, lest loses 
her right that belongs only to her.

I failed to read her.
She is so vulnerable
without me by her side!

Let me lose to her
to make her feel 
'he is mine'.

Dr. Sandip Saha lives in Kolkata, India, and has published two anthologies one of which, Quest for freedom, is available in His poetry has appeared in publications both in India and the USA.

It rained like never before!
It was one dark night
Moonless night
It rained
Rained like never before!
As if there was no sun afore!
The rain was more like pouring
It poured 
Poured like a wild stream
It rained
Rained the whole night
But the sun did shine
The next day
Brighter like never before!

Rameeza Nasim was born and lives in Karachi, Pakistan. She holds a masters degree in English Literature and Linguistics. 
She makes her living through writing and Blogging. Poetry is her Passion and it is something in her genes.

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