FIRST STATE
Hidden harmony of an aura
in wrapped years in an endless sea
I open my eyes
I don’t want to dream anymore
Awake
I feel like traveling together
on an endless journey
in the quietest part of the earth
On silent lips
we experience the soul
Living in the viscera, living in the stone
Living in the wilderness and on the streets with kisses
Red, yellow blue scattered
pieces of little sky tumble calmly in the first state
Tangled flashes of light hang on the horizon
from our will
© Kapardeli Eftichia, Greece
Death ray
Poem dedicated to Nikola Tesla
In the Croatian village of Smiljan,
in the family of a God-fearing priest
in July, a genius was born.
In a child’s mind
God lit a spark of wisdom
and He watched how quickly
the fire burned the old world
The lad
rose high above mediocrity.
The strength of knowledge
opened the door to a great mystery.
In the depths of scientist’s mind
the creative process took place
and humanity received
technical wonders as a gift
It’s him
tamed energy and invisible waves.
He moved the voice to thousands of miles
that an audible whisper
could sound out loudly
and wooden boxes spoke
like magic ones in the fairy tale
On Orthodox Christmas in 1943
the precious black thick notebook
with a dangerous endorsement
“government affairs”
disappeared
– like a ray of sunshine at night
God picked up Tesla’s wings at the New Yorker Hotel.
America has robbed his estate.
Nobel Prize was destroyed by quarrels and defects.
He returned to his homeland in the modest urn.
© Alicja Maria Kuberska, Poland
EMPTY SPACE
Silence in the house
night creeps in from outside
all the lights are off
and the door is open wide…
Silver moonlight
twisted trees
broken streetlight
chilling breeze,
empty armchair
open book
burnt-out candle
chimney soot
footprints amiss,
a long-forgotten kiss
lingers across time
echoing the hours’ chime
nowhere, yet everywhere
everything, yet nothing.
© Anna Fletcher, UK
Editor Soflay Anthology of Microstories
Other wishes …!
When love dies, something breaks
a lotus willow and the woods are overwhelmed by sighs.
Silence is emptied of unsaid words secret conundrum, woman’s soul.
Strange people created by nature,
follow the instincts as in self-creation
Anxiety abounds, infinite doubt
they are always tempted by other desires
and forget how divine love is!
© Marjeta Shatro Rrapaj
xxx
who loved me by now
all loved me badly
only you caresses, kisses me well
and also your smile is good
when the passion grows high
if we say goodbye
the distances crucify us
the words kill quickly
you are packing me in your bag
it’s wonderful to travel with you
you are cementing our life together
we become two halves of a whole
translated by István Dabi
© ÁRPÁD P. BUZOGÁNY, RUMANIA
Nature’s call
Dewdrops on unfolded petals
with a pristine promise of purity,
an array of flowers in colors beyond description
enveloped by billows of human smoke.
Sunshine gazing through green fields—-
edible emeralds yielding chemical food chains,
feeding corporate conspiracy.
Fertile soils of organic seeds
bearing fruits of avarice,
the water becoming a toxic liquid
quenching the thirst of the affluent
in the name of civilized trade
dumping the sanity of humanity!
Trees cut down with broken promises
offering our offspring
a spring of fallen leaves
and abominable air to breathe.
© Brindha Vinodh
YOUR MOODS
Like clouds in March
sometimes white as white doves
others like gloomy thoughts
or the colors of a starless night
your moods
so many times I thought
to let you go
to get away from you
from your odd bizarre ways
what binds me to you
your unhappiness
your desire to fly
while having no wings
so many times
I offered you my hand
you grabbed holding it tight
but just the buzz of a mosquito
the flapping of a bird’s wings and
forgetful you lose your way
blindly keeping going on
the mind full of airy dreams
towards your void life
your sad loneliness
© Maria Miraglia
APPROACHING TO THE INFINITY
I looked for mushrooms
didn’t find the forest
—
giving sign from the window
throwing out only crumbs
into the wind
—
we are travelers
in the moonshine
—
each line
is a confession
approaching to the infinity
—
my grandfather the joiner is sweeping
sawdust and shavings
the acrid fragrance of the forest is following him
on the cellar floor
and secrets sliding away
Translated by István Dabi
© GÁBOR CSEKE, Romania
Self-Consciousness
(1)
Deeper the moment, only a single one
Brings the warmth of His blessed grace,
Not before long all bondages it can shun,
No hurdle on the divine – way is to face.
(2)
The realization of the Supreme’s expressions
Fills man’s whole vessel with sheer delight,
He is immersed leaving all earthly possessions,
Divinity is awakened and time to take flight.
(3)
Meditate so deeply to tap latent energy
Like river times just fly leaving all behind
A thrill vibrates the whole being with synergy
Walk on the path forgetting things that bind.
(4)
And then dive into the deep Absolute zero
Be easy, calm, serene and piety bursts on,
In a while, thou emerge radiant like a hero,
No flux of thoughts whirling within drags on
(5)
Blessedness goes on flowing in mind and soul
Taking man upwards in a state of beauty divine,
Dust gathered thru ages loses ere reaching the goal,
Abundant joys around come up with a rare shine.
© B. S. Tyagi, India
BE CAREFUL WITH EROGENOUS ZONES
Do not touch the erogenous zones of my poem
with your piercing gaze
because you could ignite love in it
and wake up the evil spirits of lust
do not touch the erogenous zones of my poem
with your restless fingers
because
it could use you voluptuously and immorally
as it would an addicted girl
do not touch the erogenous zones of my poem
even with the smallest movement
because it could pine away with excitement
it could have an immaculate conception
and give birth to a guardian angel
do not touch the erogenous zones of my poem
with whispers
because it could blossom
to become the most intoxicating fragrance
sown them across the universe
and induce a sexual revolution
© Ibrahim Honjo, Canada
Normality
We become indifferent
to the human next to us.
We do not notice
that someone
only pretends to be strong.
With pockets full of
unfinished business,
desires and uncertainties,
maybe we also often
wear masks?
With hope we expect
that we will not be alone,
we look out for
normality
in abnormality.
© Eliza Segiet, Poland
I clean my voice
I clean my voice
From love vocabulary
I cut the nails of yearning
One by one
And color my lips with the red color
Of the blood that came out of them
I scatter the letters of waiting
Placing a letter before or after another
Then laugh joyfully with my victory over its fragile sound,
Its dots which got scattered like beads of a rosary I got bored of
I clean my voice from passion’s roses
Those walk every day towards their death
In a book
That is why I shorten the road for them
Crumble them, wither them in the eyes of futility
My ancient friend
I clean my voice from kisses, hugs, from the desire
From everything that cut its vocal cords
Out of yearning’ stammering.
I clean my voice from love vocabulary;
The night bites my Adam’s apple
Turning me dumb.
© Shurouk Hammoud
Friday night
Just me, my cat and TV.
I cry for I carry an empty space
inside me.
In the glow of a single lamp
I look at the silent phone.
The soft hum of the silver screen
is just an irritating reminder
that one more night I will sleep
alone in a huge bed.
Until you come.
For the moment I will taste the joy
in your embrace,
knowing I will let you go as usual.
I’m lonely…
© Katarzyna Georgiou, Poland
LIFE IS…
Life is a gift from God,
An enigma for every human being,
A roadmap to the Universe,
The path awaited
by each and every being.
There are ups and downs,
Sunrise and dusk horizons,
The joys and sorrows,
The desire for the future is strong.
Life is love and a hug,
Dreams that spread rainbowlike.
The story is both
the beginning and the end,
Where miracles happen.
Life is a fragile bond,
Promising happiness,
To owe it is a blessing
Wherever a man lives…
© Šolkotović Snežana, Korbovo, Srbija
Pure form
I am sitting at the dirty
train station
thinking about you
dirty thoughts
in the purest form
a train is
coming leaving
a cleaner has washed
the floor
I am walking along
a corridor
alone
pure profit
© LILLA LATUS, POLAND
Above all
Above all
we are children;
don’t quarrel
with religion.
All boys and girls
equal to us;
we together
el sing a song.
We are beyond
good and bad;
tell mother
with a nice tune.
We live in
same light air;
always we want
the affection of the elder.
© Suranjit Gain, India
The Days Dwelt in the Old Hut
By selling patrimony in a hamlet,
obtained an old hut in conurbation;
Originated new life nearby brooklet
Menages felt as in seventh heaven!
Master as a penny-pinching and mistress
Relinquishing her aspirations for little ones;
Though inmates being in a hut never felt distress
Thus life of kinship group as blissful as fabulous
One night with cloud burst, rain droplets plummeting
All-over into the hut; no room left over for housemates
Except a nook in a room, seeming at quivering little ones
Master felt torment and determined to secure a domicile for little ones
After a few years, little ones became young ones
Acquired heavenly home; dwelling lives blissfully;
Swiftly awful days set foot into home, scattered family
The Master felt remorse and recalled beaming days in old hut.
© Dr. T.Ramesh Babu
WILD WINDS ARE GRABLING MONEY
My fatherland petrified in me, my teeth are falling,
Drought make crackle the trees, my tears flow,
My face is like codex with wrinkles of pain,
My ancestors are carving crosses, moy song
Trimming coffin, where wild winds are grabling,
The stars are jangling, drumming alarm,
The dreams are running away, on my body burning freckles,
As herd of buffakosm the past is eating off my present
Last blade of grass is the torch in my hand
Birds of sky singing are burning to ashes, workers’ hands,
Volcanic mud squirting to the sky, the Sun is screaming
We created from dust become dust, so is the end
Nevertheless I want to be reborn and live here,
To have here house, fatherland and to reach you with my smile here,
Where from one syllable I understand the facts and the words
Dancing on my lips are spreading out light and life
Translated by ISTVÁN DABI
© MIHÁLY BENCZE (Hungarian) – RUMANIA
Alone