CELEBRATING POETS
Random Editor's Choice
OLD AGE TEAR
How quietly look in the eyes when a smile dies cold tears flowing in a bright old eye like a content flowing from the shore to a quiet shore
where youth has been blooming
tears tones in gray verses of poems wrinkled with the face
mount like a camel with two humps for a purse
the old cheeks in a poverty meal
mouth with cold wrinkled from the frost
gibberish in the language of the unknown pronunciation
alphabet which was known for Hammer
frightened in a curative of the cursed time
on the tidy gray hair gave a silk chord
in the melodic symphony he played on his cheeks
with a note he sang in the heavens in the seventh sky
beauty kept in dry cerach
In ashes the body of her before turning wrinkles will give up equality
in a blind street, these eyes will close. Where a black devil will play
in the old bones
time to put a worried head in the cool ground
and let it dance over the body
eyes from old age with tears dried
leaving without a voice in lavender fields
the Angelic triumph would play on the harps
white angels let the black granite raise on the cross
blood covered with a human stain.
let the bad of the spear celebrate suffering.
© Tadeusz Grela
POLAND
The Legacy of Slavery
The memory, a furnace Built up in my heart;
And my lachrymose
Can't puff it off.
Worst still, is its advancement
We are swimming in.
We are not ourselves
Eurobirthed into a disarray.
We are being robbed of
Moral judgement;
And distributing anything ours
In the praises of nonauthochthons.
What is our offense?
The modern slavery is aching;
Our leaders are their missiles.
Why can't we think us?
Oh, the japa! We subscribe to slavery
Now, ourselves.
Imagine Nigeria's top deeds
Against Niger Republic!
This memory, a story
Our children must hear in the moonlight.
What our forefathers suffered
Now, modernized, the worst!
There were events for stories
And History uncurriculumed.
Listen, my child.
Whom you see now
Staring and whispering to you,
Is an image of our fatherland
Now, placed in the middle
Of the widest and deepest sea;
With his hands tied to his trunk
Making the swimming impossible.
My children, hear me,
I have been robbed of myself;
The self of abundant resources
To enrich outside our borders.
My senior children are used as a missile
Against my family to satisfy the offshore!
Help me tell your likes;
The now generation must know
That, whoever uses your father, as a serf
Will never mean anything well for you.
© Ikwulono Mohammed Senison
NIGERIA
The Night
dusky beauty
holding thousands of mysteries
enveloping with darkness, profound
provokes curiosities
with its scenic silence
the camouflage of treasures
of starry skies
exuded by incandescent decor
creates magical
Arcadian romance
beneath the firmament
sleeps the whole universe
in a stupor state
leaving all stress behind
resting in most
tranquility and peace
far away from somewhere
a tinge of tangerine hue
glimmers, provides hope
though...
darkness encapsulates
the entire clime
swaying arms of sleep
induces stupor
to all the mankind
after days' long labor
finding some trance
beneath the charcoal skies
stillness has got serenity too
hushed darkness
speaks a lot, though
of relaxation, of calmness
and magnificent repose!
© Seema Sharma
INDIA
MY FLOWER is MY POETRY
If you were a flower, what would you be? Me? I'd love to be a Gumamela! This 'complete' flower has a filament that is always heavily laden with pollen ~ attracting butterflies and hummingbirds! Known as Hibiscus, this wilting flower only lasts for a day, then it closes, curls, and falls off.
Nonetheless, this flamboyant flower blooms all year round! It comes in many lovely colors: red, yellow, white, and even purple. That is how I want my poetry to be ~ simple, varied, and blooming!
© Maria Evelyn Quilla Soleta aka Hibiscus
PHILIPPINES
DELIVERY
What is your delivery to others?
What do you deliver?
The same package of feelings
That others gave to you
Or something else?
Take care to your delivery
Of words, facts, reactions!
If the package is not ok
Just leave it at the door.
© Bogdana Gageanu
ROMANIA
Time to Switch Up
Not suitable for the faint of mind
You been you for decades
You live life in your own shell
You don't know someone is ruling you
The world has always been in color
Music fills a quiet soul
You counted time in white lines and the body was moving even casually
Time goes by so fast like a bat
You sneak looking in the mirror
Knowing that gloomy mode turned you over
You hide your face with great fall.
Your deeds are not forgotten
The light in the tunnel won't highlight anything
You will leave like a bird into the unknown
No word will be left from this wicked
The gates will not be that gracious
You didn't help others with harm
You won't be able to see over the shoulder
You will be left alone to wander in misery.
© Tadeusz Grela
POLAND
IN LOVE WITH AN ANGEL
Say to your groping heart, hush, and to your skeptical mind, be still!
I have sainted my soul to your extol,
For your sake I've scrubbed my filthy hand.
And the pristine blood of the lamb has also purged my hellish heart.
Speak and thy servant will take heed,
Teach and my two pupils will be diligent Pupils unto thee -
learning under thy Pedagogy -
To see and to do thy will.
Turn to the stars and let the moonlight lead you.
Follow the footprints of your instinct to this precinct
where I, thy lover lives.
Tell me! Is the imprint of a man's mind in heaven's print not accessible to angels?
I learned that angels don't dwell in hell but
Tell me! Will thou teach me how to build a Nirvana in this mortal world of
darksome inferno - a replica of what an angel will call hell?
Tell me! If I commit myself to thee, are you sure the burning heat
of this world will not cause us to dispel?
© Olusegun Ajayi
"The Pioneer Poet"
NIGERIA
BE THE JOY OF DAYS
As vision the layer there...quaint
Where see no man sway;
Inhaling the cosmic zephyr -
Way being of the milky way;
With pulses warm of the naked sun's ember,
My memory of love! gorges faint...
With time! the destroying flood...
Upon its tendency to make remote
They heart, exiling a dream;
And with each day in step in denote
Of sorrow's tangled hymn,
Oh! canter in loneliness! given the nod.
But upon the get of sunlit eye,
Reflects the heart's inflection
Of a smile - revealing life's delight:
And confessed...the sacred crest...of my retention;
Be the disquiet of desired beauty...to sight;
Indeed! be the joy of days! beard of hope...
of a dream romance, that doesn't lie
© Henry Farrell
UK
HEARTBEAT AT DAWN
In the quiet soliloquy
Of the quiet night;
Dead in its embrace
Listening to the echoes
Of your heart's beats...
With me,
Wrapped in the quietude
Of your whispering symphony;
My sole, soul's accordion.
Two innocent souls merged,
A Siamese
Forever in your nostalgia
Are we bonded, a body.
Awake I remain monologuing
And listening to the pitch
Of our rhythm
So high as it soothes.
A balm in this cell,
An encystment embalmed
In the cocoon calm
Of your consoling beats.
© Kichime Philibus Elisha
Nigeria
ICON AND SOUND
Thinking so deeply
I have wasted so many chances
Trying to find a way
To reach out to you
I'm tired of making excuses.
Your seductive passions
Evoke the consciousness of desires in me
So, take my exhausted heart
To comfort in your love forever.
I'm like an iris floating
On high tides
In an ocean of affections
My emotions are melodies
Of a violin tones traveling through the wind
And penetrating into your mind.
In love, there is no measure of time
Only two bonded souls in a template
Losing or winning is not the question
I can hear the motions of love calling my veins
For it is love, it's the space of life.
© Nasser Alshaikhahmed
RAS TANURA, SAUDI ARABIA
Anniversary
On the anniversary
Of his hand touching
My cheek
For the first time
In that crowded venue
I dream of him
Remembering the glow inside
That I felt all the next day.
© Bernadette O'Reilly
IRELAND
SHADOWS A'SWAYING
Shadows a'swaying upon an evening breeze
move to an unheard refrain
eked out on distant pipes
in some remote hinterland unknowable
evoking unspoken sorrows
and the whispered mysteries
of life and death, death and life
They mirror the sweep,
the pitch and rise
astir in the boughs of denuded trees
As this way and that they incline
yielding to gusts of cool air
wafting through the deserted woods
While thin clouds
ghosts of midnight
scud across the heavens
fleeing wisps in diaphanous gauze
etched upon the celestial canvas
as silhouettes ephemeral
Transient enigmas
gone in a whisper
where the spirits of night ever lead
afloat upon the midnight scape
Ruffling the leaves of weeping willows
exquisite of chalk white trunk
and stirring the unfathomable waters
rippling on a silent lake
High above a mortal realm
lost in a world of slumber and dreams
insubstantial as the cosmic display
a' gliding across the firmament awhile
© D. A. Simpson
UK
MOTHER You bore me of uniqueness A skin, Beautiful enough to admiration You planted me hard On a land of treasure With a landscape beautifully laid That my heart groans with joy Who am I to shed tears? Mother Africa Your structure is a beauty That observers stare with saliva They pour out their eyes To have you on their brains Because you're rich Rich dearly that I'm blessed. Oh mama Africa The lakes you poured upon my feet From Victoria to Tanganyika A wholesome of mountain like Cape Zambezi and Nile rivers rich Who are we without your beauty? For us, you gave a rich language background Swahili lamenting beauty Zulu and Xhosa elegantly dancing Hausa and Igbo a nature's safe Up you served us so well Oh Mother. Today I'm in a celebratory mood Dancing to your beautiful music Lingala pacing Rhumba Afro beats a taste of the west Amapiano oh Amapiano
Kapuka rivaling genge
Who are you mother Africa? You're simply elegance Beauty that's ecstatic An aroma of excellence Fragrance that dances on my line I'll forever cherish you You're my home, my mother.
© Dredan Brian 'DRE Arts'
KENYA
IF POETRY LEAVES ME
Do you know that my heart bleeds Without writing a sweet melody?
Do you know that my life is meaningless
Without this gentle guy named Poetry?
Do you know that I laid down my life
To rewrite burning tears and sorrow?
If poetry leaves me, order my last tube.
My blood has dried up and faded away.
If poetry leaves me,
The sun, moon, and stars will crack.
And the trees shall blossom in tears.
Even angels in heaven shall moan,
For a tasty pen and paper has fallen.
Oh, if poetry leaves me,
Weep not for my corpse;
The sun has zoomed over my nostrils.
If poetry leaves me,
Collect my broken pieces of words.
And if I sleep with my pen and book,
Order not an ambulance;
Bury me with one of my touching poems.
O, my body shall sleep on ice,
But my words shall arise like dry bones.
So, if poetry leaves me,
Buy me a white book to be covered.
And not a shining or spicy tree.
If poetry leaves me,
Please question the ground.
From him, I was created.
I will reimburse him.
© Gabriel S. Weah
LIBERIA
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