International Poetry الشعر শ্লোক ကဗျာ ליבע ਪਿਆਰ өлүм கவிதை บทกวี ποίηση költészet 詩歌

with Vera Ignatowitsch

A Courageous Woman Boils the Bananas

 

a courageous woman boils the bananas

and watches her people on a Haitian mountain

run away behind her dream

with curly hair and hidden pain

she bribes the sun with her smile

to dissolve the hot and murmured

“Amen”

 

a courageous woman boils the bananas

and never experiences their taste

always surrounded by tents, always hungrier,

many secrets there, in her chest

counting the footsteps in the sand

revealing how many people are lost!

 

the Haitian girl plants the corn with her father on high

she tides his body with the robes, she tries her best,

to make our life better

what should we do?

if we truly suffer through our ages

if all our times are blue?

 

a courageous woman boils the bananas

and touches her baby skin

“Work . . .Work” a sound cries in the space, cried by men!

 

she tears the tent with a huge passion

she never understands what station means

where everybody needs to dream, to travel

but this isn’t her reality level

 

a courageous woman boils the bananas

and watches her people on a Haitian mountain

run away behind her dream

with curly hair and hidden pain

she bribes the sun with her smile

to dissolve the hot and murmured

“Amen”

 

 

Amirah Al Wassif is a freelance writer. 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.

Life Insurance

 

Life and its situations

Are like an important document:

Read the terms and conditions

Carefully before signing it.

 

 

Inbuilt Stuff

 

This life is autumn

And I am a tree

Whose leaves are shed.

I stand naked

Worrying about the fate of the leaves.

 

 

Surreal World

 

The reality of

These green blades

Is calling me

To join them

And shed

All my doubts and expectations.

 

 

The Game of Bones

 

My heart is a gambler,

It plays with me.

My mind is the victim

Who has to be

The one paying expenses.

My body is the player

Who silently watches the game.

My life is a street

Where everyone plays.

 

 

A person who turns her blood into ink, Annu Punia is a 17 -year-old Indian girl who writes poetry to connect to herself, and to relive moments through poetry. This is her first publication.

Reminders

 

Before she skipped over, I was gazing

into the usual sea one sees, breathing

my usual breath, shallow, slow.

That day

I had been living my usual day, except

that I realized I had been walking a long time,

on a stony, twisty path.

Staring at my bruised feet, I had been questioning

the wrinkling tide, the setting

sky, the light hiding behind

the distant hill.

 

She handed me a shell, tubular, scabby

its knobbed spots sinking

into my fingertips.

I cupped it between both hands and peeked in

as if it might escape. It was still

cold from the wet sand, She

was already gone, tiptoeing lightly

toward the glittering sea, orange-kinetic halos

twirling up from behind the hill. Her own

shells clinking a dance in the concave

of her stretched out shirt.

 

“Thank you,” I sang,

 

and she thought

it was

for the shell.

 

First published in Poetika Literary Anthology 2018 by Kasingkasing Press, Iloilo, Philippines.

Anna Teresa Slater is a high school literature and drama teacher from the Philippines and a postgraduate student in Creative Writing at Lancaster University. She lives on a farm with her husband, dog, and cat.

Crows Filled the Sky

 

In the autumn of my life

Death spread like a plague

 

Her hair curled like colourful leaves

The tender touch of her breast

 

The cold wind blew my head

Off my shoulders

 

Crows filled the sky

Birds sang in a skinny grove

 

The sun threw an orange into

The ocean

 

Blue like her eyes

Still and turbulent

 

The sweet love the sun made

To my skin

 

 

Mohamad Kebbewar was born and raised in Aleppo. Immigrating to Canada at age 19,  Kebbewar earned a degree in history from Concordia University before becoming a graphic designer.  

Chaos

 

A brief history of humankind will show

The cinder-trail of overreaching dreams.

Mostly, we keep our chaos bottled,

Settling for a little warmth on cold nights.

But the universe, they say, is expanding,

And not easily contained.

Everybody only asks for three wishes.

 

 

Ruchira Mandal writes poetry, songs, fiction when she finds time from grading papers. She lives in Kolkata, India, loves traveling and dim sums, and has been known to talk to herself on occasion.

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