ILA  Magazine

Poetry has always lived in the tension between what is declared and what is suggested, between the unveiled word and the veiled image....

Greta is at it again This time with 12 boots Not just a media stunt Bring people food Hopefully the world takes notice So people don't...

A shadow intruding her mind begging for a moment Haunting melodies of those years gone by Lyrics of songs searching for a voice Hands...

For those who love, wherever on earth the heart is gay, is shared domain... Where robins sing, wildflowers bloom, snow caps the peaks,...

©Courtesy of Maria Dulce Leitao Reis Oh, if I could freeze time, but extraordinary amazing works are only within the reach of the...

SOME POEMS The paper lay flat before me Ink moved, but not with fire My hand obeyed a quiet rhythm Words fell, heavy and uninspired No...

could I simply be a sun melted jellybean? minuscule molecule swimming infinite swamps foraging flotsam resembling raw origins of life my...

I don't Pull any punches And will Write what I feel In my Rhyming tales. For people and Relationships Get stressed And stale From time to...

Like day and night Poetry has its bright and dim moments The oscillating pendulum of consciousness Carries humanity's tears and joy When...

Lost in a still life the ashes I have lived, with no admission to my surrealism gardens of stone and icons play. With these eyes I...

O that somewhere should rise Moon of thy comeliness And change the darkling hue Of gloomy loneliness. O queen of sweet discourse Let...

Unknown thought that occupies the senses and its back. Now I stand at the doorway of a room I haven't entered for several years. Dust...

"Of Petals and Padlocks" Violet autumn     like a fire hazard   The hues and moods      of trees and leaves               released from...

An Interview of Michael Lee Johnson Conducted by ILA Contributing Editor/Interviewer, Carl Scharwath Today, I had the great pleasure of...

At Hillbrow, a Zimbabwean girl curls in darkness before a growing night. She is one of three million Zimbabweans who have to flee to...

Lines drawn across lives on earth bare, Marching thro' dwellings without care. A nation large into two split, Shattered pieces thro'...

Mother whose despair is like Acrid smoke of burnt flesh Surrounds her nightly course of fresh Baked corpses, whose breaths are a pike Of...

With time, many things disappear, others look foggy and distant while some make a place in our memory and never leave it. I still...

"BROKEN CAN BE BEAUTIFUL" Titles can be heavy as a burden As all are not meant to be heroes And some who are, could have been broken but,...

We invited poets to explore the metaphor of "Kintsugi" (Japanese art form of repairing broken pottery), in their poetry. The essence of...