top of page

International Poetry الشعر শ্লোক ကဗျာ ליבע ਪਿਆਰ өлүм

with Tendai Rinos Mwanaka and Rameeza Nasim

Adjei Agyei-Baah is a lecturer at University of Ghana School of Distance Learning and the co-founder Africa Haiku Network and Poetry Foundation Ghana. He currently serves as the co-editor of the Mamba Journal, Africa’s first haiku periodical, and champions an avant-garde type of haiku dubbed “Afriku”, which seeks to project the unique sights, sounds, and settings of Africa to the world creative community. He is a winner several of international awards with his short and long verse appearing in many international anthologies and journals. Adjei serves as a haiku resource person and facilitator for schools and colleges, and as well run workshops for many universities in Ghana. He is the author of “AFRIKU” (Red Moon Press 2016), his debut collection, and looks forward to publish his next collection "Tales of the Kite" this very year!


The Otumfuo of Asantes


He who knows not the Otumfuo

Let me present him

He has mounted the throne

Dissolved many a throne

to concretize his own

His Golden Stool

Is a handmade of the gods

His cloth, a woven one of a kind

And the secret only Ananse knows

He passes like a train of army ants

With every door shutting behind him

His umbrella is a shade of baobab

The defenseless seeks refuge and lives

And His appellation is a long tape of epic

And for those who care to know:

“The white man brought his cannons to His bush

But His bush was stronger than his cannons’’.


Five Africa Haiku


Harmattan fires

the forest crackles

in tongues



falling leaf

the sudden arms

of a spider web




dragging the morning

in silence



frothing gourd

the floating remains

of a scout bee



desert heat

finding shade
in a camel’s hump



Jabulani Mzinyathi was born in Gweru, Zimbabwe in Ascot High Density Surburb to working class parents. He calls himself a poet, prophet, philosopher. He is a writer in general and a poet in particular. His works have been published in several anthologies, magazines, ezines in Zimbabwe and abroad. Jabulani is a pan African who is also an internationalist.  Jabulani is an avid reader who is a qualified teacher, lawyer and human resources management practitioner. He calls himself an explosion that is an implosion.


advice for the sages


in the trenches together yesterday

burying comrades in shallow graves

burying kith and kin in shallow graves

the tree of freedom by blood, watered

the supreme sacrifice that was


today at each other's throats

when did the derailment start

today turned into water and oil

a square peg in a round hole

the difference between night and day


now the fish in the throes of death

having been long out of water

when was the freedom train derailed

on the tracks the gravy train taking its place

the liberation  train must be back on tracks



african drum


the demonised drum

speaks to my soul

soothing my african soul

sweetly caressing it


invoking those spirits

the restless spirits of my people

hot iron branded pagan

those that dangled at noose ends


reverberations of the drum

spelling out my happiness

at times messages of strife

the demonised drum


but why entertain the muses


plunged again into melancholy

engulfed by giant waves of despair

still pursuing it with maniacal zeal

my shadow dogs me continually

usain bolt can never outpace his shadow


this is what we have become

unashamed worshippers of mammon

deriving satisfaction from trinkets

souls now irretrievable lost

turned now into one dimensional automatons


without the  accompanying jingle of coins

without the allure of rustling notes

these works now dumped on the dung heap

worshippers of mammon's grand idea

that i bottle these tears for sale


for the umpteenth time

whether the harvest is material prosperity

whether there is the lap of luxury

behind the images woven by the word hoard

whether there is opulence in the voices



Ali Znaidi (b.1977) lives in Redeyef, Tunisia. He is the author of several chapbooks. His poems have also appeared in such anthologies as MACRO: an anthology of images macros, A 2016 Race Anthology: Dispatches and Artifacts from a Segregated City, and Best “New” African Poets 2016 Anthology as well as in numerous literary journals. For more, visit


The Colourful Apocalypse


I realized I was sitting beside a pile

of colours that had silently slid from

the wings of crushed butterflies.

I realized I was sitting beside

a colourful apocalypse.

I knew exactly what it looked like.

It was a sinking rainbow.

I felt like sitting on a broken sofa

upholstered in tattered floral fabric.

I was amazed by the fact that

the sofa has become a carnival

of imagined destruction.

The apocalypse cannot find you

if you dream.

We invent dreams to survive.

Although I was anxious

like someone awaiting a verdict,

I started dreaming again.

But, don’t forget that

even dreams are governed

by supply and demand

like any other free floating market!



Notes on Negation


The rose withered.

Nothing remained even those wrinkles;

those scribbles on the memory’s face.

My forgotten scars need lanterns

to survive.—Negation is a dangerous thing;

something beyond concept.

We all abhor silence.

We all curse this nihil.

We all want to annihilate negation.

We all want to light candles.

—No room for dimmed lights

because we all want to burn all those maps of negation.

We all want to sketch eternal roses of existence.



Alexander Melese Tekola was born in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia in 1992. He attended his primary and secondary education in the Catholic Missionary School, Saint Joseph School. Afterwards he joined the Addis Ababa University School of Law and graduated in 2015. Currently he is working in a local non profit organization in Addis Ababa. He started the first ever musical revolution in his country with the aspiration of Psychedelic folk rock music by setting up small studio with the name "Anarchy". He is also passionate about the nature of man and wants to reflect on human's emotions in his writings. 



Vacant rocks

Nature beseech’d

Across all yarn

Rocks dispersed

On variant tide


Some did posses

A low key tune

While the others

Weigh as commune


It’s a shameful pain

To see glittered rocks

Making a sound

As idle vessels


All these, should never last

But shall perish on a nifty night

I, for eternity, declare

Vacant rocks,

are huge burdens to lift and share. 

Counting the Stars by Tendai R Mwanaka

Let Her Fly


The eyes unfolded

To a world unknown,

The poise it beheld

Amazed galore.


Fumes of despondency,

"Who will take the legacy forward?"

Alleys roared in silence,

Subsiding murmurs of scarce joy.


Clinched in Pink knots;

Aghast the hands wandered.

With a whimper,

Pink implored,

"Let me fly! Let me fly!"


Oblivious the feet,

Kept running;

And tripping.

But never stopped

To the Pinkish orthodox whims.


Frail, but nimble;

It danced to its drumbeats,

Against barriers;

Higher than the brink of Pink.


The arduous Pink fiercely soared high;

Plucking the inhibitions stark;

Seeded in their minds,

In unison;

I applauded,

You cried and we yelled;

"Let Her fly! Let Her fly!"



Aren't You Happy?


When birds up in the vastness of blue,

sing the notes of octaves oblivious to you;

When the sun shining high above,

draws a blanket of its sunshine trove;

When the mists on the green grass,

embrace the feet treading across;

When the splashes of first monsoon rain,

awash the dreariness of a worked up brain;

When the sight of a beautiful smile,

helps you walk an extra mile;

When the caress of hands pure,

makes you forget the nasty rebukes of life sour;

When the practice of a long forgotten passion,

reinstates your cheekbones into motion;

When the fire of a dream to fly,

doesn't let the desire to dry;

Oh you beautiful species,

Wandering in three dimensions,

Looking for the impeccable melody,

Stop! Find yourself instead,
Amidst the deluge; 
And then interrogate!

Aren't you happy?  

Ananya Utkarsh  is a 23 year old Indian who loves to write to help the world make a better place. Currently pursuing MBA from Indian Institute of Foreign Trade. She is an avid blogger, who finds solace in writing . She blogs on"

                                Letter 1

And she wrote to him…


Yes, the cloud is playing a new game… like a ripple …and my heart can feel it…so here is my first letter to you…


“Darkness crumbles me nowadays…I don’t want to stay in it anymore …as I want to see me bounded by your love…every moment, everyday…want you to engulf me with your warm embrace...  

want to  hear your susurrous  near to my ears…want to feel your touch crawling through my body…I want you to make me breathless with your kisses and caress…no I don’t want to wipe the tarnish of your name from my heart…

And so I solemnly say that I love you…

I don’t have any crayon to jot down these words but whenever you would peep into my heart you could feel it…

p.s- because I trust you... 

To be continued… 

Sangeeta Roy Sona, lives and writes in the  Assam region of India.


The Unforgettable  . . . 


My love, you swear on me
Please return me,
The love and care of your enticing eyes
Please return me my lost galas to precise 

My mind can never forget that blissful moment
When your youth glimpsed my love,
And there were emotions and grace all around
I gifted all those emotions to your voice
Please return me back those songs and emotions
Please return me my lost celebrations 

I still remember that moment of my life
I got drunk through your serving eyes 
And felt acute sensation through every pore of my body ,
When my hands touched your tender and soft skin 
Please return me back that protent grace
Please return me my lost space

I have seen your glimpse once
My heart desires to see you again
And love you in the full moon night ,
By considering your shadow as white lotus in the silent lake
Please return me back that glimpse of bliss
Please return me my lost eternal kiss

Now please come in front and reveal your face
This is only cure for my pain and loneliness 
Your retention has troubled me every way
Now please come here or I would loose my life today
Please return me back all those forgotten  memories 
Please return me my lost glories....

My love,  you swear on me.....


This poem was promoted as best of Family poems 2016 by Wild Sound Writing and Film Festival Review.

Pappee is from Varanasi, India, his poems are published on his author/poet facebook page - Pappee for poetry.



I don’t have onions in my kitchen to chipped

Nor shampoo in my bathroom to drop it in my eyes

How then I will justify

The reason of my tears to my kids

And they don’t know

I have been crying

Since I missed the homeland train

My mother was lying

When my father was wearing a military uniform

And went out before sunrise so no one could see him

My mom kept smiling for the length of his absence

So we didn’t see her choking back tears

And when we missed him

She told us

He is going to return the meaning to our map

We thought he was a cartographer

And when my father returned without an arm

She told us

He gave his arm to the homeland

And the homeland gave him a medal

We didn’t know the meaning of war until we grew up

That like plastic bottles

The tyrants had recycled our lives during their many war

Now I understand why my mom was lying

And why when my father returned from war

He didn’t recognize his face in the mirror

Faleeha Hassan is a poet, teacher, editor, writer, playwriter  born in Najaf, Iraq, in 1967, who now lives in the United States.


She first wrote poetry for children in Iraq, and now writes for all ages.

She holds a master's degree in Arabic literature, and has published 20 books. Her poems have been translated into English, Turkmen, Bosevih, Indian, French, Italian, German, Kurdish, Spain, Korean, Greek  and Albanian. Ms. Hassan has received many awards in Iraq and throughout the Middle East for her poetry and short stories.

Faleeha Hassan has also had her poems and short stories published in a variety of American magazines.

The road to Romance....

 Besides the chaotic road of known strangers, 

Diverts a soft lane of romance for rangers.


Virgin, Unused, Untrodden is this road, 

I tread softly on it relishing the simplicity less load.


No masks, no loud claims, no possessions, 

There is a breeze of pure passions.


Passions of unconditional Love, 

Devoid of expectations, devoid of sulky hate


Air of pure spirituality, 

Accompanied by your sensuality, 

Absolute purity of your thoughts.


So far I have journeyed half the way, 

Harnessing the faith of your company.


Would you put your feet on this glamour devoid lane solely?


Or stay chained to your possessions of melancholy?


I shall continue to move on and beckon you to join,


Shall complete the journey on this wonderful path,


Your company or my solitude will  make no difference,


If you are late to unchain your emotions,


While I may still complete my journey,


At 'dusk' I will still wait for you at the end of the Road to Romance...

Bipul Banerjee, popularly known as ‘Dusk’ in literary circles, is a sales and marketing leader by profession with an MBA and PhD in marketing. He writes poetry for the passion of expression  inspired by  day to day life. He has 3 CRM research publications , two book chapter and 15 poetry paper backs and e-books.                                              

Rameeza Nasim

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

Tendai Rinos Mwanaka

Tendai Rinos Mwanaka is an editor, writer, visual artist and musical artist with 10 individual books and 5 edited anthologies published which include among others, Zimbolicious Poetry Anthology, Playing To Love’s Gallery, Counting The Stars, and many more here He writes in English and Shona. His work has appeared in over 400 journals and anthologies from over 27 countries. Work has been translated into Spanish, French and German.


We are excited to add two new editors to cover our "Africa desk", and the" Asian desk" We may be adding one or more international editors in the next few issues to reflect the sensibilities of the various continents and regions. We hope this not only offers the poets of these regions a chance to be exposed to a more conventional western readership, but likewise expose our readers to the flavors and sounds and philosophies that make these other places unique.

Tendai Rinos Mwanaka

Tendai Rinos Mwanaka is a leading poet and writer of the new generation of African writers and works hard to promote African writing through anthologies he has curated and co edited. Mwanaka has been shortlisted and won several writing awards, including shortlisted for a record 7 times for the UK based Erbacce poetry award, 3 times nominated for the Pushcart, The Caine African Writing Award etc. He is a published and exhibited visual artist (photography, painting, drawing, installation, collage, video.), represented by ARNA gallery, Sweden, until 2020, upcoming exhibitions include among others, Alice Art Gallery Johannesburg, February 2017, Le Corridor Gallery, Harare, May 2017, a published sound/musical artist using mostly tradition instrumentations like the mbira. He is a mentor, translator, scholar, theorist, reviewer, editor, critic, whose work has been published in over 400 journals in over 27 countries, translated into French, Germany and Spanish. He also works part time as a research consultant for a NGO based in Mozambique, in the primary education field. His published work can be found here: Tendai Rinos Mwanaka

Rameeza Nasim

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

bottom of page