Poems by ASHRAF ABOUL-YAZID ( Arab)

Sadness

Sadness is a woman in love with me.

She dances for me till
the awaking of dawn.

And continues her seduction till
the sunset of my life.


Evenings

I.

Looking for unused faces
In the piles of destroyed masks
To conceal
– When I meet you –
Some sadness used to cover
The continent of my heart.

2.

Being tortured by some songs
I threw my ears beyond the noisy silence.

To hear the same repeated news.


3.

Before the thousand closed doors
Of the palace of sorrow in my heart
I stand,
Without a key.



(More poems by ASHRAF ABOUL-YAZID)


 Poems  by  Caleb Schrock-Hurst ( USA)


All things have many names,
and most I do not know,
and most I cannot say.
And though this truth will never change —
a few beside infinity is none —
even stacked rocks in the desert
can shade out our blazing sun.

----------------

An American in Vietnam

They spoke of heat
and streets awash in bicycles
being peddled gently by
beautiful girls in flowing white robes.
But I have found the chill
and highways swarmed in mopeds
being driven zealously by
beautiful girls in clinging red skirts.

This is a country of the sea and mountain,
a place where push and pull are known to all.
Though, as to which is pull, and which is push?
It doesn’t seem to matter.
Time, it changes seasons, not the heart.

Remember me, fierce ancient country,
recall me when you change forever once again
and I’ll call you my lotus flower:
beautiful though battered by the wind.


(More Poems by Caleb Schrock-Hurst)


A Poem by Christos Koukis ( Greek)


Sleep


For some time now i cannot sleep, i turn around on my bed
until the vertigo lifts my dreams from deep down
My agony tonight as well is heavier that darkness

but still i am not waiting for dawn, it is not time for light yet
but still i am waiting for the stars and the moon to appear
so that we can talk and clarify things
so that we don't leave this story with empty eyes
This country does not go to sleep with clear conscience


What kind of people drove us mad and the night fell
so wildly and suddenly
What kind of people have we become as well and the night fell
without a fight, a reminiscence
We were captured by the ashes and who could save himself was saved
The ashes are used to us and accuse us now for the fire
we should, we should have listened to the denial


For some time now we've been living with the feeling
that we've been slipping in vain
with the frightened suspicion that when a wound governs
it goes deeper


(More Poems by Christos Koukis  )


A Poem by Jagari Mukherjee ( Bengal )

A CONFESSION


Gauging my hunger was easy
for you –
you read the script correctly, in my eyes.
We held hands in cafes
and kissed in dark movie halls.
And you sensed, too, my apprehensions
in every give-and-take.
You felt my amorphous terrors in
future fantasies of love
we may eventually make.
"Don't hold back," you say,
feeling my rising panic beat against
your chest. Your caresses nurture me
as a mother bird her nest of waiting fledglings.
You are not to blame....
But if I look back down a decade
my fear takes a face and a name.
A morning I pray to obliterate.
A memory branded like a wound.
You know now why I have not
rested on your pillow yet.


( More poems by Jagari Mukherjeei)

 


A Poem by   Amin  Khan ( Algeria)


The dust rises from my steps

The barbed wire’s rust
Is the organ of the barbarian wind

What is done here in sadness
There is done in joy

It is from here that I leave


( More poems by Amin  Khan )


A Poem by  Avaya Shrestha( Nepal)


DOUBT


Doubt the beautiful
Collages rendered by
These various images of clouds,
Doubt the beauty
Of the existence of various
Floating colors on beautiful lakes
And of the snow— like patches of clouds—
That has come to your hands.
Doubt the sensational
News in newspapers and TV,
The flowery, immaculate poems of poets,
The mindblowing thoughts of intelligentsia,
And the Prime Minister’s speech
In the name of all the citizens.
Doubt
Even the stories told
In sweet language
By your respected teacher,
Doubt
The history written
By great historians
And the all-accepted values
In the world.
Doubt
Yudhisthira’s loyalty
To truth, which is like snow
Melting; and doubt
Arjuna’s bravery, which is like the sky
Untouched; doubt
Devavrata’s Bhishma Pratigyaa*,
Duryodhana’s meanness
And the magical stories of the
Vedas and the Puranas.
Socrates, Marx and Gandhi
Darwin, Freud and Einstein
Are only your co-travellers;
The Holy Bible, Ramayana
And the Mahabharata
The Dhammopadesh, Tripitak
And the Quran
Are not the ultimate truth;
Neither Brahma is real
Nor false is the world; doubt
Vishnu, Maheshwor, Shree Ram,
Christ, Kabir, Mohammed,
And even the Buddha
Who himself speaks of doubts.
No one is outside
The circle of doubts
In this yardlike
Collective world—
Doubt!
Even this poem of mine
That creates
The god of doubts …
Unstoppingly,
I do doubt my own conscience
The way the soil does
Give a test every time
To the seeds sown in its womb.

Bhishma Pratigyaa*— a terrible oath taken by Devavrata, one of the most important figures in the Mahabharata, a famous Hindu epic.
Translated from Nepali by Haris Adhikari

(More poems by  Avaya Shrestha)


A Poem by  Suruchi Upadhyay



I MISS YOU



A Scintillating eyes
A helping hand
An arm of care
I Miss you....

Your words of share
the way you care
the thoughts you share
I Miss you....

What a grace almighty has given
I believe its unique and rare
a sweet memory
my mind thinks of you
that's the only reason
I Miss you....

I know
It's an incident
although, I still remember
your sweet actions
that's the only reason
I Miss you....

The way I connect to you
I find its unique and rare
I feel haapy and good
to be with you
that's the only reason
I Miss You...

It's a unique feeling
I rarely met across
my eyes wait for you
that's the only reason
I Miss you...
I know its a short lived experience
but I am proud of God
to actually exist on this earth
the real imagination of my mind
that's only the reason
I Miss you....

 

(More poems by Suruchi Upadhyay)

 


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