HOPE I was murky, dull in a deep grief I just listened to a tiny beef, something was whispering "time has not gone" don't lose well as you have not won. This was hope still in my core telling me I deserve something much more it widened my lips and make me walk it gave me words and made me talk. It made me dream beyond the sky it held my hand and taught me to fly It awoke my wishes which were slept It brought back the happiness that was theft. It made me confident wherever I been It made me do what no one has seen!

February 2021 SAME BREATHS Oh day! I'm tired of you Same the sunrise from hills And boil wounds to highs Where you rest at night I will change that nation. A year is just a day The blood lacks vitality Else, the ears are bored And eyes fell down daily. Songs, I listen many Several lines I remember With same melody I murmur Cause the felling of words. By my side, death laughs "Million streets I changed Billions are my homes I lament, I serve Still, I'm a knight." Ordeal, hate or love, what? I'm lost in heart's pother. Mutely moon appears always Never brings tidings along How the day will converse At least I can slumber long. Time's soul is busy in ruining My soul revolves around!!! © Bur Han

FEATURED POEMS of DR. MUDASIR AHMAD GORI February 2021 SCREAMING SILENCE Words are missing The silence hides a scream Yet it interconnects. It is born out of repression And aims to liberate my soul From the inaudible storms That have nurtured ages ago. I remained silent for "The deepest rivers are the quietest." The frozen soul has melted and Crying. Words are missing But a lot has been said Screams have reached to the deaf ears To the stone hearted folks With a hope That no other soul has to scream in silence. © Dr. Mudasir Ahmad Gori AGONIZED HUMANS Immortalized dead bodies, My young progeny, Destined to drive us across the shore. These pearls have fallen to bullets, Their innocent bodies pierced with deadly metal. Screeches of sisters echo, Stains of blood on mourners are evident. The perfume of grief, The sobs of mothers, Elders sniveling, stand still. The fights to have the remaining relics of brave hearts, Last glimpse before the send-off, To the world of eternity. The shroud of the martyr Deck with garlands and cologne, Hands festooned with myrtle. © Dr. Mudasir Ahmad Gori. Dr. Mudasir Ahmad Gori (BA, B. Ed, MA, M. Phil, Ph.D. (English) & TS-SET). Dr. Mudasir Ahmad Gori did his Post-Graduation in English Literature from Bundelkhand University Jhansi UP in 2010 (Gold Medalist). Dr. Gori did his M. Phil from Vikram University Ujjain MP and pursued Ph.D. from Department of English, Maulana Azad National Urdu University, Hyderabad, Telangana, India. He has also qualified for TS-SET in the year 2019. Dr. Gori is presently working as Guest Faculty at The Directorate of Distance Education, Maulana Azad National Urdu University. He has published several peer-reviewed research papers in various reputed journals apart from penning down more than 50 articles in both English and Urdu languages, in International, National, and Local Newspapers. Dr. Gori has written several poems and some of them have been published in reputed journals like, 'Teesta Review', 'Kashmiri Adabi Markaz Kaamraaz', to name a few. His upcoming book, "Screaming Silence", will be published soon.

February 2021 HUM OF HUMANITY Universal wailing rainforest burning choking up the atmosphere - Rivers clogging newsreels spinning daily global grinding gnashing of hungry Children gulping polluted air just hoping to stay alive whilst mothers desperately kneel in dark corners begging for open borders so their innocent children can be saved from starvation sickness and zero nutrition hoping desperately for charity angels to soothe their daily lament maybe even miraculously Create healing smiles to brighten young eyes and sing, jump, shout, with glee in an imagined childhood expected reverie but that was not meant to be as Power hungry rulers insist on continued global crashes stifling words halting progress destroying humanitarian bridges causing existential seizures A cry, a prayer, a melodic lament, hands raised to the heavens, a plea for invading forces to end their tyranny hopefully embracing humanity but what about the children? They beg, they crawl, they cry, they die, they plead, they bleed - Come, join in this global chorus, add your notes to the hum of humanity... © Don Beukes WARPED CHIRALITY We are meant to be part of the same species yet you forge your own warped realities pretending confessing announcing orating your alternative existence from ideas born from your elected ignorance - Listening absorbing accepting broken lullabies from hoarse false poison-tipped tongues of larks whispering untruths spinning words But you allow your essence to soak up its negativity garnered from deformed misguided mentalities now so twisted you just cannot resist owning that leaking, lying Legacy - You see me as an unknown racial oddity not knowing my true mixed race Genealogy As you burn your obvious dislike for me through my startled pores but I see you as a lonely lost soul indoctrinated by spiral ideologies bleeding through you for generations whose voices now whisper even taunting you to throw that stone clutched in your shaking hand. Your conflicting inner rage I can somehow understand, even pity you, but here I am, about to become just another statistic of divisive rhetoric and there you are, contemplating my fate - just another unfortunate fatality in Our Warped chirality © Don Beukes Don Beukes is a South African and British writer. He is the author of 'The Salamander Chronicles' (CTU) and 'Icarus Rising - Volume I' (ABP), an ekphrastic collection. He taught English and Geography in both South Africa and the UK. His poetry has been anthologized in numerous collections and translated into Afrikaans, Persian, French and Albanian. He was nominated by Roxana Nastase, Editor of Scarlet Leaf Review, for the 'Best of the Net' in 2017 as well as the Pushcart Poetry Prize (USA) in 2016. He was published in his first SA Anthology, 'In Pursuit of Poetic Perfection' in 2018 (Libbo Publishers) and his second, 'Cape Sounds', in 2019 (Gavin Joachims Publishing). He is also an amateur photographer and his debut Photographic publication appeared in Spirit Fire Review in June 2019. His new book, 'Sic Transit Gloria Mundi/Thus Passes the Glory of this World', is due to be published by Concrete Mist Press.

February 2021 Art by Elaine Yanni Shimmering wings of spirit Heart tremulous with light Winging to heaven in majestic flight Hope is the passenger Hitching a ride Into the realms of time Delight to discover The way is illuminated Past diminishing Present Future refined Searching the sky Spirit soaring above Hope everlasting never ending Display of faith and love © Elaine Yanni

February 2021 Escape...To Eternal Void Restrained... in my solitude And terrible eternal void Reeling randomly... Between waves of expansion... And contradiction Leaving my dismembered body Shaking in my wings Shackling my poems... In a gloomy silence Streaming flows of chill Into my feelings... My thoughts Balking my pen... In a suspicious breakdown As if to collude With my solitude And that eternal void God What can I do When feeling lost In the labyrinth of The monotonous rhythm of boredom... What weird time Where we live like stupid machines Or... As walking-dead We carry names Or numbers Or hold Large fat titles But the But... Forever we remain UNIDENTIFIED. © Mandour Saleh Hikel ENGRAVING ON WALLS OF SILENCE Engraving on walls of silence Echoed with war drums Dressed in the blood of oldsters, Bereaved mothers and children While stench of death is kissing children's laughter And innocent children buried under the wall of shame. Shame of politicians...shame of trafficking With idiotic words and sick verses. Engraving on walls of silence...silence of grave Silence of fear...in Women and children's hearts Night and day...praying to die While still wondering...is it inevitable? There is no escape Except for...escaping from death to death Death by war killing machines Death by stings of cold...in forgotten refuges Death in the depth of dark oceans and seas Or To lay down Embraced by the darkness of a grave Grave of silence... SILENCE OF THE GRAVE © Mandour Saleh Hikel Poet, Mandour Saleh Hikel hails from Egypt. He started as a lyrics writer, in the early 80's, for Egyptian rock band, No! (1982-1984). Later, he stopped for quite some time, before resuming his writing in 1999, until now. He gives his highest priority to Anti-war, Anti-violence poems that are always evocative and moving, and with great messages. He published two books and is now working on a third, released in 2021.

February 2021 Recently, on our Magazine's Facebook Group, we conducted a 2-week Prompt Challenge in the Humanitarian Theme, and asked our members who participated, to write a poem, where we would choose one out of the entries, to be included in ILA. Well, we were touched by not just one, but multiple, so we decided to publish four that were chosen. We hope the poems touch your heart as it did with ours, when you read the work of these gifted writers! SKIN OF HUMAN NATURE Skin of human nature Perished in altruistic hue And teenage crisis wraths. We thrive from mundane Cares of daily grind As the hapless man kisses Life's acrid flavors, What is there left to give? Need we SHARE the only Food for our subsistence? Worried lest I'd be Starving...I'd give. In a troubled breathing Coincidence...I'd give. © Sugar Zedna HUMANITY Be a lotus in Filth and dirty water of life Else diamond in Dark and dirty coal mine. Be a mountain when The cyclone comes In all odds. Maintain your decorum Like the majestic rain. Clean all your surroundings In case of new relationship. Don't forget your old bonding It is better to stand Bare feet Than to borrow Else's boot. Like a banyan tree, Don't forget your root. © Soma Bhowmik REBIRTH An abrupt explosion Earth took birth from the sun And gone through changes Millions and billions of times. Hymn of life started to enchant And authenticate the life to peep Through the sea in deep. Thus, arise the life day by day, Evolution occurs but now we have to pay The taxes that we have enjoyed a lot Without thought about nature Was busy to nurture our own self worthy thoughts That brought us in front of a question mark. If we will ever be able to leave remarks On the earth in spite of the destruction we have made Now just take a break and feel to refill the scars on earth And make it pure fresh life to rebirth. © Shampa Saha India UNITY In pursuit of love and peace, let heaven And earth bond together, our brothers, Illuminate the grieving, displaced from The borders of no hope. Let love glow in every Living hearts, glands and veins, the universal Blood type, to claim unity of one brotherhood. Let the clouds that loom with tears, wash Evil minds, who destroy peace and harmony. No gun fire to use, to spread evil power and To silence innocent victims. let the lyrics of Healing and compassion drizzle in fine mist In every continent. We are one brother, of not borders, created From dirt and from dirt, we will all return. Though we have different cultures, race, color, But one belief, with The Almighty, that blessed And forgave us. let the river of Peace flow, In every heartbeat of humanity. © Aida G. Rogue

Written by L. S. Onyah © February 2021 Four candles slowly burned. The ambience was so soft, one could almosst hear them talking... The first one said: 'I am PEACE.' NIGERIA is full of anger, hatred for each other and fighting. No one wants to keep me lit. Then the flames of peace went out completely. The second said, 'I am FAITH.' The polity is so tensed to such an extent, no one has an iota of confidence in my capacity to turn the tide of events for the now and create the desired future. It doesn't make sense that I stay lit another moment. Just then, a cool breeze blew faith's flame out. Sadly, the third candle began to speak. 'I am LOVE.' The citizens have simply lost touch of the reality of my existence and importance for a united Nigeria. And I am waiting no longer. Love's flame went off. Just suddenly... A child entered the room and saw the three unlit candles. 'Why aren't you burning and revealing your brilliant light among us?', he inquired. Right from the days of our founding fathers, they, within their struggle, had believed that once we had been declared an independent nation, they had conceived/bargained that you were meant to stay lit till the end of the ages, as they tie what ought to bind us, if we must remain in oneness. 'I am HOPE!' The fourth candle announced, when I am still burning, we can rekindle the other candles. With bright eyes, the child took the candle of hope and lit the other candles. It then became evident, that though love happened to be the greatest of them all, however, the wings of hope though fragile like that of a butterfly, should never be taken for granted. With hope, each of us, despite our ethnic backgrounds, or whatever seemed to be our differences, can be of a truth, live in PEACE, FAITH and LOVE. WE COULD REMAIN UNITED IN DIVERSITY at NAIJA One Nation, Great People! Lucky Stephen Onyah is a Lagosian by birth, whose parents hail from Delta State, Nigeria. Currently, he is a mathematics teacher and a Principal of Gbenu Private Academy, Lagos. He is also an English teacher with World English Institute, having earned an Advance Diploma in English from the same institute. In addition, he is taking up Master of Bible Studies in Accra Graduate School. Stephen ventured into writing early, had evolved in the art and seeks to impart the world with his creative pen. His poems can be seen in anthologies, international E-zines and has received awards for his work.

I had a hen with one leg Everyday it laid one egg In April, May and June I collected ninty soon One day I had a guest For him meat was a must To buy meat , I had no money I liked the hen like honey I killed it without will The guest's stomach to fill He chewed its each bone And left me weeping all alone #Children's Poetry

We present our readers, the work of writer and photographer, Carl Scharwath, on this special feature, included a poem, and essay and a video. Below, an Ekphrastic poem by Carl with Deborah Setiyawati as a model YOU Hysterical-naked-and dragging Through heaven's roof illuminated Floating across the vertex of art Your smile and memory fills The nebulae of the mind We have a song The loose string tells our note Waiting for history to begin Making my own heaven To see you again. © Carl Scharwath ESSAY by Carl Scharwath Henrik Ibsen first said, "A thousand words leave not the same deep impression as does a single deed." This quote in a more modern photography form is. "A picture is worth a thousand words." I believe there are "1,000 ways to take a photo." A beautiful Florida walk in the woods and there it is! Four trees of different sizes draped in Spanish moss, eerie and beautiful at the same time, the shadows dance everywhere. Four photographers are about to take a photo, the results are all different. One might use a different perspective and framing, another concentrating on the play of light and shadow, the third, takes just a close up of the intricate webbing of the moss and the fourth adds the flowers 6 feet in front of the trees and used that to add more color. So, we have four different results and maybe only one will command an emotional response and be the one that is published, if that is your goal. EMOTIONAL RESPONSE: Your picture can be brilliant in terms of their technical properties and visual beauty, however, they also have to have a strong emotional impact on your viewers. When you take a photo, please think of this impact for a few seconds while setting up your photo as this can make all the difference in having your art published. STORYTELLING: You also have to think of the story your photo will tell. You have two options to meet this challenge. Open or closed stories will again pull your viewer in. Open stories give a lot of freedom to you and your audience. Perhaps the viewers past experiences will guide them in interpreting your story with their own emotions. Your photo could illicit a happy or sad memory of your viewers past and these photos will be the most powerful. A closed story does not allow your photo to have many open-minded interpretations as both you and your viewer would reach the same conclusion. Which style you choose does not matter, what matters is again, to draw an emotional response and be heavy layered with meaning if possible. This is most difficult as it does not allow the random taking of just beautiful pictures but challenges you as the photographer to take it to the next level. TOOLS: I will now share some tools that I have used in my photography. First, I never use Photoshop. To get some special effects, I love taking a photo of a store window. You can get some amazing reflections off the glass of the cityscape behind you or you can bring that beautiful mannequin right out into the street. A simple mirror can also add some spectacular images. I love double exposure, putting one image over the other. In this technique, you can add the model or a photo over another photo and you have an instant special effect. A great place for me to find the base photo is a local antique store. They are loaded with items from a past history and yes, history equals storytelling. A great instant storytelling photo is taking pictures of abandoned buildings, common items, surrealistic model poses and extreme closeups which can add mystery and excitement for your viewers. Since I am also a painter, my newest style is doing an abstract painting on a small canvas. I take a photo of the canvas, then double expose another photo over it for a colorful and different effect. You do not have to be a painter to accomplish this as any abstract painting will work with the right positioning to your photo. My absolute favorite photo project is ekphrastic poetry. When I first shared my photography on Facebook, poets would ask me if they could write a poem for my photography. Now, as an artist, this is the most beautiful compliment you can receive. It means my photography not only evoked an emotional response, but another talented artist was inspired enough to take the time and write a poem for my photography. This is a great way to work as a team, make new friends and support each other. I am happy to say I have worked with over ten poets and everyone had at least one work published with me, as a team. Photography is a fun art, and not that time consuming. Please find a style that is you, do not be afraid to submit your work and if you ever need help or have a question, please find me on Facebook and I would be honored to help you. © Carl Scharwath Below, Carl has shared with our magazine, exclusively, a beautiful video narrated by the lovely, Jeanette Skirvin, (she has a most angelic and soothing narrative voice), as she recites his poem, "Beholder" on YouTube: TIDBITS ABOUT CARL: Carl Scharwath has appeared globally with 150+ Journals selecting his poetry, short stories, interviews, essays, plays or art photography (his photography was featured on the cover of 6 journals). Two poetry books, 'Journey to Become Forgotten' (Kind of a Hurricane Press) and 'Abandoned' (ScarsTv), have been published. His first photography book was recently published by Praxis. Carl is the Art Editor for Minute Magazine. He is also a competitive runner and a 2nd degree black-belt in Taekwondo.

A creative collaboration of Poetry and Visual Art between friends.... SOMBER was how she counted the days of her foregone times, with disdain was how she calculated the lost beatings of her pulses. Suffocated was how she divided the rueful emotions of her senses in whole, painful was how she multiplied the hours of her mournful existence In fraction was her happiness, in ratio, was she valued. By the number was how she treaded on the path of her pallid living, . . .but by the number she won't again exist - she won't again be chained, to anyone's strings and equation. © Sharon Dina Rose Regala 2020 Image Courtesy of Carl Scharwath Photography/Art THE MEETING This is humannequin Standing at the table on the fringes looking on At life's full servings But forgoing on a supping It is trite to think that I must sit on the edge of my seat And be greet and make merry And look happy While feeling like flattened cardboard While my eyes stray to the sides Yet I am faulted for unwrapping my insides And leaving my hair And looking at my friends' soul A feeling follows me to the very end Why didn't I listen to its voice. © Shanti Harjani-Williams 2020 Image Courtesy of Carl Scharwath Photography/Art SPLATTER Quick dry blood Absorbs itself under graphic tees That make believe the man is the myth The legend runs adrift in naked storefronts On doors that close behind They claim for the universal good Sprinting behind the man is his double He who once ran the race alone Now tied up in knots with his own All standing in the same room A likeness of himself. © Shanti Harjani-Williams Image Courtesy of Carl Scharwath Photography/Art