September & October 2019
Vol IV No V
Not your ordinary poetry magazine!
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Published bi-monthly
International Poetry الشعر শ্লোক ကဗျာ ליבע ਪਿਆਰ өлүм கவிதை บทกวี ποίηση költészet 詩歌
with editor Vera Ignatowitsch
who would feed the orphans?
my heart is a pancake
shared by the poor and homeless
and there is a poetic spot
which belongs to the orphans
who, covered with my blood,
seek a home
through ages I wonder
who are those orphans?
then I find the answer
hanging on a page in the sky
those who sleep in the trash cans
sweat and cry and spit
those who make small clay houses
doesn’t let them get into
these ghosts that you see
close to the traffic signs
shaking more than breathing!
my heart is a pancake
shared by the poor and homeless
and the eternal question is
who will feed the orphans?
the naked bodies crawl on the sharp docks
the small hands are forced to break the rocks
the time howls without mercy
the children watching our world
from their neglected corner
their skin tells you how the sun is every day
their violent shiver tells you how cold is every night
my heart is a pancake
shared by the poor and homeless
whose bones pray for their tortured bodies
their tears improvising a poem
for the watchful eye
my heart is a pancake
shared by the poor and homeless
under the ground they are many
trying to steal our attention
crying secretly and laughing as a compliment
hiding under the bridges
wrapping themselves with newspaper
which never ever talks about them!
in front of the pizza shops
they are many
watching in silence
and never tasting
next to the parks they are many
looking out at their fellows in humanity
and whispers
get out of their chests
alongside toy stores
they are many
spying bitterly
running strongly to the trash cans
which hold their cotton toys
my heart is a pancake
shared by the poor and homeless
and I wonder if one good heart
stops beating
who will feed the orphans?!
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.
A Tree
A tree
Has a co-existence
With human beings,
Of passion and compassion,
In an unbreakable relationship
So whenever you use
The axe on the tree,
I find my body
Smeared in blood.
Nature Prayer
O! Source of light come
on every leaf of the forest
your arrival presents
new life to the universe
new music starts vibrating
in man and nature
O! Source of light
you drive away darkness
sing new songs of devotion
Dr. Ram Sharma is an accomplished poet and writer: writing in English and Hindi. He has published ten poetry volumes. Dr. Ram Sharma is presently an Associate Professor in English at J.V.P.G. College, Baraut, Baghpat, Uttar Pradesh, India.
The Angel Will Take Off His Hat
Between us two the smoky mirror of a freedom
which we will never understand, from which we come out
and into which we go as into water that trembles
and protectively closes behind us.
That flake, lonely and white, always floating between our flights,
which our incoherence led us at the beginning to consider as charm,
the asthenic debility of the hour without contour,
flowing continuously, to the point of a kind of suffocation . . .
Maybe we will never write our names on real wood,
maybe we will never smile at each other with our souls totally clean.
Our expectation gives birth to silent flowers in the miraculous sphere
of moisture, of a possible and glorious fertility,
that is why I am saying to you: understand this love as a round and baked
bread, and hot, from which you can take a steaming piece whenever you want.
Your guardian angel will understand you and he will take off
his hat, once in his eternal life, to cool off in front of the hunger of the absolute.
Dragoş Niculescu’s poems have been published in over 150 publications in Romania and abroad, and he has been named among the fifty most important contemporary Romanian poets. He has five poetry volumes and one drama volume in print.
The platform is no more
The platform is no more
The faces do not look at one another
The timetable moves opposite to the clock
The lake of the morning calls the births
Though there is an identity crisis
And a huge tower screens the black magic
And I reach for my fuel of this year
And find only the expired ointment of the past
And so I return to the papered battlefield.
Who will win all the golden vices?
There is a queue
And it is long and dead.
Partha Sarker writes poems to protest against social injustice and crimes against nature and does not know what to do but dreams of revolution, of course in vain.
Friends, Land and Flowers
I am guilty of not having many loves
and few people have been my friends.
I am a man of old-fashioned customs,
the one who hopes to be duly introduced
and then exchange a full conversation.
Forgotten refinement of the times of yore,
etiquette learned in the old social rites.
My friends are few, faithful and heartfelt,
not subject to the usual taps on the back,
easy laughs and feigned cuddling.
They are always austere, even stern,
but never fail when you need them.
Never accustomed to false praise
and empty words,
but prompt, effective and friendly deeds.
Like the land where I was born and raised,
dry plateaus and arid hills, narrow creeks
and honest meagre sheaves by the harvest.
Stubborn trees that, unlike the others,
wait for the driest season to bloom,
naked even of leaves, find strength
to bring forth delicate yellow flowers,
resembling pure and true gold.
First published in Young Ravens, issue 9, December 2018.
Edilson Afonso Ferreira is a Brazilian poet who writes in English rather than in Portuguese. His work has been published in international journals since he began writing at age 67. His first poetry collection is Lonely Sailor, One Hundred Poems.