November & December 2019
Vol IV No VI
Not your ordinary poetry magazine!
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International Poetry الشعر শ্লোক ကဗျာ ליבע ਪਿਆਰ өлүм கவிதை บทกวี ποίηση költészet 詩歌
with editor Vera Ignatowitsch
Beleaguered by Blocks
From the panhandle of my kip
a truckload of echoes
arrives near morning.
Someone asks in a hoary voice
if my name is such and such.
They unload the delivery upon my eyelids.
Without opening the packages
one knows what lies inside,
sometimes even in the case
of the things sent as a surprise.
I know the building blocks
when they are placed on my eyelids.
I fear these must be the blocks
to a child fumbling to comprehend
the holy architecture of life, forging ahead.
Kushal Poddar is from Kolkata, India. He has authored seven volumes of poetry including A Place For Your Ghost Animals, Scratches Within, Eternity Restoration Project—Selected and New Poems, and Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse—A Prequel.
Here, minnows ripple
Across the swath
Of jadesque skin
Reflecting a visage of
Heaving softly with
A motorboat speeds through,
Slicing the layer of skin
Into undulating bars
Of distortions slapping
Thick against the banks.
And just like this,
Ellen Chia lives in Thailand and enjoys going on solitary walks in woodlands and along beaches where nature's treasure trove impels her to document her findings and impressions using the language of poetry.
The echoing green,
filled the air, with a mystic feeling.
The water swirled, seemed to reflect
endless mazes into the heart of time,
and her eyes caught what seemed to be the familiar agony
of almost forgotten lovely embraces in the fainting breeze.
Then she felt a touch on her shoulder,
a tap of a familiar hand, but the face was not familiar, was not
It was a face far from memory, displaced in time.
A shriek of an owl brought her back
to the present moment.
How did she end up in that spot of bright clearing?
She could not recall.
All she remembers: a phone call and meaningless condolences.
Next, she was there, in that spot,
engraved in memory as a place for lost souls.
Tavga Saeed is from Kurdistan but lives in Turkey and teaches English literature at Karabük University.
A note reminded me of a scene.
A scene remitted me to fragments
That move around a core called life.
Tenderness and melancholy escorted us on autumn mornings —
We could hear the winter!
Satie . . . No one had understood autumn like him;
Nobody had loved the autumn like her.
Life had faded. Autumn was preparing to say goodbye to her.
Worthy! I thought . . . my hand was holding the coffin handle;
Tears washed my eyes.
Gymnopédies . . . Gymnopédies . . . She whispered, convinced —
Days before she was consumed by the disease.
The coffin went down in the rhythm of the leaves
That committed suicide from the trees;
Autumn was saying goodbye.
The priest prayed, but few pledged to listen;
Satie has overcome his words.
The coffin reached its destination . . .
Autumn will never be the same!
Heider Broisler was born in Brazil (June 19, 1971). He holds a bachelor’s degree in Business Administration and Legal Science.
quit talking about me
not to me
your words pierce
underneath my princess-like
not part of
some colorful costume
without mom noticing
without dad knowing
He wears a dress
and goes out to the club
dances so nice
all of them would say . . .
She looks at me
I glance back
to call me
pull me out
away from my comfort zone
to remove the mask
away from my body
he is going to bed
In the bed they both
there’s no place
for the woman in him
He’s already used to
removing make up
stashing clothes inside the closet
erasing last remnants of happiness
from the night before
Previously published in the cherita issue 3:5 and issue 3:6
Zohar Teshartok lives in Ramat-Gan, Israel, and is a student in the art policy and theory curatorial program at Bezalel Academy. His stories and poems have appeared in magazines, anthologies, and in electronic formats in Israel and abroad.