Thursday, September 15, 2022

Alan Patrick Traynor OLD MAN ON A BLACK ROCK


Alan Patrick Traynor 



OLD MAN ON A BLACK ROCK
In the burning easel of man
How a yellow tree hangs
From the heart of Autumn
Drove back by the decumbent flames
A radiant transfiguration in the
Virgin's face
To gaze at God
Past all pain(t)
One quiet finger reaching
To the thunderous creation of man
Beached on the hard bone streets
Of Rome
Destitute mooring chains that
Lead her feet to the naked herringbone floor
The horror of doves colliding
On the tortured ceiling
Possessed by the Danube's blue rich
Violent palaestra
Of muscular screeching walls
A crustacean of claws
Bright bones clashing
A silver kiss
On the walls of the Sistine Chapel
A church organ bolted to eternity
An old man on a black rock
Harpooning hearts
The clay coloured creatures of Degas
Waltzing from his hand's delight
Violently exploding
And closing
The fulminated atoms of an octopus
Opening
In the pink flesh of paludal waters
Towards you
Swell her pneumatic white eyes
In the chiming ecliptic rafters
Of his hands
Ink pouring
Collapsing like a cloak
Into a beating heart
A cello unraveled in all its pieces
An opening up of a delicate otherworldly
Hand
Beneath the eidolon overhanging cliffs of another World
On the scaffolding of her bones
The pecking order of patina
A palladium of men's eyes
Drowning in the sodomy of paint
In the burning easel of man
How the flame tree hangs
From the heart
Of a Ballerina
In the primordial waves and displosive light
Of man's cold fingerprint
In the Ecclesiastical candlelight
Where Turner once washed cold
Off the cliffs of dover
Rejected
In light
In the borrowed gale
I left you
.
.
by Alan Patrick Traynor
.
© Sept 5th
2022
.
.
Dutch Boats in a Gale ('The Bridgewater Sea Piece') by: Joseph Mallord William Turner

Dr Yogendra Arya I Am In You


Dr Yogendra Arya 


I Am In You

When I am alone
When I am sad
When I am exhausted
When I am broken
By the tragedies of the world
I walk away
Far from the suffocating crowds
And I sit silently
I remember you
And from nowhere
You appear in my closed eyes
In my weary heaving heart
I feel your magical Presence
You come and whisper
So softly and silently
I am with you
I love you
From the bottom of my heart
From the depth of my mind
And....By my Soul too....
Because the body shall decay
But not the Soul
And I will always
Always be your
Guardian Angel of Love
In this Life
And Afterlife too....
Trust Me.. I am in You..
©

Eva Petropoulou Lianoy I miss the hug

Eva Petropoulou Lianoy
 

I miss the hug
A hug that they give you and you forget the weaknesses of your existence.
I miss a kiss
The kiss that someone gives you and your stomach makes those noises like is full of butterflies
I miss the smile
That childish smile that you have
U are smiling and all nature becomes
Pink
I miss the walk to the beach
The waves
The perfume of the salt
I miss the sunshine and the sunset
All the simple things that I had
I miss the generosity of people
I miss the kindness of my grandparents
I miss the relaxing moments of drinking a coffee
Now, they all want your friend, your position, your talent, your contact, your potential, your life almost but no one...
Nobody wants to get in your shoes
They are too tide.!!!!
©®

Saturday, September 3, 2022

Ольга Левадная ( Olga Levadnaya) Россия


Ольга Левадная

 Olga Levadnaya


Россия
Olga Levadnaya is a world-famous Russian poet, Honored Worker of Culture of the Republic of Tatarstan of the Russian Federation (2008), laureate of all-Russian and international literary awards (2007-2022), member of Russian and international literary unions (1997-2022), Ambassador of Peace (2021), artistic head of the Kazan Poetry Theater "Dialogue" (2016).
Author of books: “I live in anticipation of snow” (1992), “Go through the vicious circle” (1998), “In free fall up” (2003), “Close to our past” (in Russian and Tatar, 2003), “Rising on the ladder of thoughts” (2005), “Memories grow from the cry of birds” (in Russian, English, Tatar and Turkish, 2005), “Stargate” (2010), “Wind of the heart” (2014), “Vocal works on verses Olga Levadnaya" (2020), "Selected" in two volumes (2022), "Wind of the Heart" (in Russian and Tatar, India, 2022), "Wind of the Heart" (in Tatar, USA, 2022).
O. Levadnaya is the creator of the music and poetry festival "Handshake of the Republics" in the Republic of Tatarstan of the Russian Federation (2017-2021).
Ольга Левадная русский поэт с мировой известностью, заслуженный работник культуры Республики Татарстан Российской Федерации (2008), лауреат всероссийских и международных литературных премий (2007-2022), член российских и международных литературных союзов (1997-2022), Посол Мира (2021), художественный руководитель Казанского поэтического театра «Диалог» (2016).
Автор книг: «В ожидании снега живу» (1992), «Пройти заколдованный круг» (1998), «В свободном падении вверх» (2003), «Вблизи от нашего прошлого» (на русском и татарском языках, 2003), «Поднимаясь по лестнице раздумий» (2005), «Из крика птиц растут воспоминания» (на русском, английском, татарском и турецком языках, 2005), «Звёздные врата» (2010), «Ветер сердца» (2014), «Вокальные произведения на стихи Ольги Левадной» (2020), «Избранное» в двух томах (2022), «Ветер сердца» (на русском и татарском языках, Индия, 2022), «Ветер сердца» (на татарском языке, США, 2022).
О.Левадная создатель в Республики Татарстан Российской Федерации музыкально-поэтического фестиваля «Рукопожатие республик» (2017-2021).
Книги 1992-2022


Annie Johnson The Heart of a Chaste Young Girl


Annie Johnson 


The Heart of a Chaste Young Girl
Here is the heart of a chaste young girl,
Star-struck and incurably romantic.
If change is in the air, it touches lightly
The strands of her midnight hair.
Her lips have tasted only life’s sweetness;
For purity knows only of sweetness.
Her fairy light feet carry her through life
Like a butterfly dancing on air
Or a leaf drifting on the wind
Captured on a shaft of Autumn dreams.
This tender girl shall never grow old
Her purity is like the air in Springtime
Or tulips dancing in the rain.
Soft is her voice with whispered longing
Spoken to the moon and starlit sky.
Every syllable echoes and swirls around her;
Only the grass hears, “My love, come find me.”
Annie Johnson© All rights reserved.
Photo from the internet.

Friday, September 2, 2022

John Adnan Karajoli Morning foreplay



 John Adnan Karajoli


Morning foreplay
Butterfly and roses
Unlimited beautiful nature
Every morning I fly
With the breezes that drive me
To count and kiss the roses I love
one rose after another
I choose the colors
I drink the nectar of the flowers
The one who works wonders with his taste
I caress the flowers in eternal flirtation
And filled my mouth with flavor and nectar
Anemone flower.
Talk to her and ask her how she is
Is she still single?
Answer me: No!
All the flowers of the fields accompany me now
And my love for nature
Absolutely no end
Copyright, 08/25/2022.
John Adnan Karajoli.
All rights reserved
Translation Google.

SIMA ION / ROMANIA SPUNE-MI TOT CE SIMȚI


 SIMA ION / ROMANIA

SPUNE-MI TOT CE SIMȚI
Floare de Nu-mă-uita,
de mă vei primi la tine
așa cum sunt
te voi îmbrăca în flori de tei
și-ți voi umbri ochii
cu iubirea mea
să nu te-ntristezi și să m-alungi
când vei observa
cât sunt de cărunt.
Îți voi pune la urechi cercei
din bănuți de soare
și cireșe coapte
și-ți voi uda inima-nsetată
cu stropi de iubire
să-ți alung tristețea ce te chinuie
noapte de noapte.
Când vederea îmi va deveni cernită
te voi recunoaște
după cum mă minți.
Hai, citește-mă în fiecare zi
ca pe o carte bună de povești
și spune-mi,
spune-mi cu sinceritate,
tot ce simți.
Autor : SIMA ION / ROMANIA /28.08.2022

Chandan Bhattacharya "Fire of Desire"


 Chandan Bhattacharya


"Fire of Desire"
Sometimes raises the question in my mind,
Is man born with desire?
The question makes me think,
A human philosophy, I find.
There are billions of creatures in nature
This world is for every creature.
But people think of themselves
As the best creatures.
They want to rule the world
As they have knowledge bold.
They kill people as human beings
They make new weapons
All the year, all the seasons.
The mountain of desire
Is created in the mind of man
Created by God
Oh Lord...Oh Lord.
Destroys thousands of species
Treats the earth as a source of enjoyment
And spread dangerous disease.
If we gaze with a blink
Products that make women think. Thinking of objects of enjoyment
Makes sex dependent films
Only for their marryment .
They burn in the fire of desire
And dies
Sometimes the question arises...
When will this desire of the people end
Can you answer my dearest friend ?
Or I've to go back to human society
To find out a concrete philosophy.
Finally an old woman
A dying old woman...
I asked her the question.
The old woman took a handful of ashes
In her shaky hand
And said,
"Only when people are burnt to ashes
In crematoriums
Or lay inside graves
Can the fire of desire be extinguished ...
It's certain and sure
Never before.
Copyright strictly to chandan Bhattacharya.

Stefica Karasevac, Croatia Tamo daleko


Stefica Karasevac, Croatia 

Tamo daleko
Tamo daleko, gdje nebo i more se spaja
Varljivom iluzijom oka gdje se potajno ljube
Sljubljeni u tanku crtu zivotnog beskraja
U pocasti jedno drugom tajanstveno se gube.
Tamo, negdje daleko, a tako blisko viziji oka
Na obzorju zivota zatecen vjetar u zakletvi cuti
O tajnama duboka mora i nebesa nedokuciva, visoka
Pustajuc suncu da im u nadi blistaju nereceni puti.
Tamo, cem nema kraja, na crti izmedju raja i pakla
Promicu duse usnule ugasena zadnja uzdaha
Treptavom svijetlocu klize vodom nalik od stakla
Drscuci od strepnje na tankoj crti puni straha.
Tamo, mozda, postoji mjesto, svatko se tome nada
Na kraju puta kad zlo unisti dobro, sasvim satre
Putovat je vrijeme kazu, pacenice putuj sada
Drhti zemlja mocne sile u kojoj narod nemocan strada.
Tamo, odlaze jedan za drugim voljeni, mili i dragi
Da nadju mjesto o kom sve cuti i zemlja,vjetar i more
Sunce i mjesec im nebo zlati pute s kojeg se nitko ne vrati
U jadan zemaljski zivot, da s utjehom o mjestu govore.
Tamo daleko, gdje vuce se sjena zivota ko tanak stap
Gdje zemlja umorna bezglasno place, kleci na koljenima
Moli vas, svratite nam ponekad bar kao leptir plah
Donesite nadu i vjeru u bolje sutra u zivot preostalog pokolenja.
Stefica Karasevac, Croatia/Melbourne, 27/8/2022

Victor Agbor | Nigeria HONOUR THE RINGS


 Victor Agbor | Nigeria


HONOUR THE RINGS
Honour the rings
That bring the melodies
Enmeshed in rhapsodies
With joyful springs
Curious eyes that watch
The awesome display
Of affection in a play
Affirm the good match
I am truly a living witness
To the new bond
Birthed by being fond
Of yourselves without bitterness
These round metals
As smooth as a glass
Puts you in a new class
Of ever glowing petals
The longing cease not
As the love birds hug
Like leaves in a fog
For their soul is hot
© Victor Agbor | Nigeria
August, 2022
Image: Right Owners

Narayan Maikap India Mind How You Go


 Narayan Maikap India


Mind How You Go
Elated starlets sprint
Cock a hoop envisioning platinum era
Oozing out nectar from the
Pregnant honeycombs.
Cuckoos and doyels
Chant in celestial strums
To i a crimson
Dawn pinked with
Overripe pomegranate.
Hoary doves and pigeons swoop
Over their expectant heads
To delve into the
Soothing dream of
An end, the devilish
Corona virus has been
Environing all our normalcy.
We are through time of ordeal.
Modern economy has been
Wading through adversities,
Killing the means of earnings
Of ill fated million daily labourers.
My high spirits went sagging
Imagining the morbid picture of
Near future with million commoners.
Let's pray for the end of
The cursed pendamics!
---------------------
©️ Narayan Maikap India

Eva Lianou Petropoulou I love you....

Friday, March 12, 2021

Harish Pradhan INDOMITABLE MAN


Harish Pradhan


 INDOMITABLE MAN

Whose hands have
Carved these images
From the days of yore
Who has painted
These pictures from
The pages of the past
A long journey from
Homo erectus
To homo sapiens
He appears in light
Yellow or brown
Or red ochre or in
Shades of green
Away from
The wilderness
In the jungle rule
Nobody is spared
No mercy, no sympathy
Even for near
And dear ones
The jungle king
Dictates and decides
Your destiny
The length of your
Life is measured by
The elongating
Shadow of death
You cannot prolong
The old on the
Alter of the young
Let the jungle king
Dictate
You are the invincible
Spirit, you have
Conquered the world
You have tamed the
Mighty rivers
You have beaten
The vast sea
You have captured
The infinite sky
Why do you fear
To stride the earth
Like an
Indomitable man
Copyright
Harish Pradhan

1.ANDANCES the power of the word By Verónica Valadez


Verónica Valadez 


1.ANDANCES
the power of the word
By Verónica Valadez
"The paper, the pencil and the writing"
I always wondered why a pencil and paper were so valuable. If we think about how many people throughout history have used these two tools to capture feelings, emotions, stories, inventions, statements, slogans, outbursts, death sentences, opinions, decisions, etc.
With the courage in my hands and making use of the virtue that has been granted to me, I do not know if for my ancestors, for the Universe or simply because God wanted it that way, I am addressing you through this space in which I will seek to provide with much affection the best that comes from my heart to deal with various topics, hoping not to fall into unnecessary debates or controversies, just like that ... for the pleasure of sharing my Adventures with all of you.
And about the pencil and the paper, I want to tell you that when I have them in my hands I feel that they are the greatest opportunity to feel free, to see a blank paper, ready to be filled, is one of the greatest emotions that I have felt since I was a child.
They have started to think that whether you write directly on a sheet or on your computer, it is the most sublime act of true manifestation, there are no witnesses if you do not want, or your words can transcend as much as you want.
The simple fact of writing is a whole technique, and whoever did not work on it in due course is difficult to eradicate certain idioms and forms, there is no reason why graphology exists, which allows us to know someone's personality through their writing, It will be because the lines are like the lines of your life.
At some point, while I was a teacher, I realized that many children did not know math facts, but with the help of a good teacher and their due effort, they could improve a lot. Unlike this subject, those boys who had made a bad habit in their writing from an early age, it was very difficult to get them to remove certain hobbies or ways of drawing letters. There were those who, since kindergarten, never told them the correct way to hold a pencil, and they took it with three or even four fingers, even inserting it between the ring finger and the middle finger, which resulted, in many cases, in a untidy and clear handwriting.
The strength of your strokes, the inclination of your letters, their size and the way to capture them speak of you, who you are and how you are feeling while writing a text on paper.
Nothing is good or bad, but it is interesting to know that countless writers have looked for their own ways of writing, such is the case of Umberto Eco, who at some point commented that he alternated the pen and the computer depending on what he was writing: "Some issues require the slowness of handwriting, precisely because the paper resists the speed of thought," he said.
There are those who even say that Carlos Fuentes wrote by type and only with the index finger of one hand; with the other he smoked. García Márquez wondered in his article "how that finger could come out unscathed from the more than 2,000 pages of his novel" Terra Nostra. "Gabo himself used to type with two fingers, a method to which he became accustomed as a journalist. Another writer from journalistic roots, Ernest Hemingway, did it by hand or by machine, but always standing up… (El Cultural, 2015).
Anyway, what if the way, what if the form, what if the content, what if the spelling or writing, all this is immersed in the world of letters, and what to say about the greatest emotions that are cheeky before a paper and a pencil: passions, follies, sorrows and joys, everything can be captured.
That is why I want to invite you in this first participation to not stop manifesting, writing as physical exercise, is a good way to exercise our thinking, organize our ideas and create unimaginable worlds with just two tools that do not have great value economic, but they are an excellent opportunity to transform something in you that can have transcendence in your close environment or even in the whole world.
Dare! See you soon.
"Words are all we have"
Samuel Beckett

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