A story of the great men of the faith - Saadi Shirazi

They relate a story of the great men of the faith. 

Recognizers of the truth of the essence of truth. 

Peace - Kewulay Kamara

Good evening people,

Good evening people

Mother - Ki Hyung-do

Mother

Is not coming home. She left

for the market, carrying on her head thirty 

stems of young radish to sell. She’s not

coming home. The sun has long

Set. I sit in the room like

A cold ball of uneaten rice in a bowl.

Bengali women - Joie Bose

perhaps it is how we were raised

always asked to keep our spine straight

to hold our heads high

On Easter - August Šenoa

On Easter back then, even now I recall,

The morning sun did toward us veer,

Full of life, of youth, I ran to you all,

Toward my village small and so dear.

Fire - Kwame Dawes

He is the man with the axe with its white edge.

He was born to a time of fire.

He took a pickaxe and walked to the rail

track and asked for work; and he stood

by the sparks and forging fire, standing

there as if the heat is food, pure food.

Elsie - Pamela Claire Mordecai

Elsie could cuss like a sailor

rip masts too when she swept

like a storm upgrading

minute by minute trading

The gloomy night to morning yields - Hans Chrestensen Sthen

The gloomy night to morning yields,

So brightly the day is breaking;

The sun ascends over hills and fields,

And birds are with song awaking.

The Survivor - Tadeusz Różewicz

I am twenty-four

led to slaughter

I survived.

Social media love - Pamela Elizabeth Acaye

Babes, Please I beg, Let us not waste time on grammar!

The time between is too short to waste on long words,

Ecstasy - Paul Éluard

I am in front of this feminine land

Like a child in front of the fire

Smiling vaguely with tears in my eyes

a tribute to emily dickinson - Piotr Kostousov

I swap my freedom like a coin

for paths and springs and groves,

Ortamezar - Ivan Theofilov

The neighborhood

with its shady provincial courtyards

next to the hot watermelon fields,

Silence Number 1, Begetting - Marie-Andree Auclair

silence is stone

polished smooth

The Vanity of the World (Miranda Vanitas) - Bernard of Clairvaux

O the wondrous vanity 

That the heart bewitches! 

Bitter poison 'tis to be 

All absorbed in riches. 

The Sower - Edward Dowden

Son of the earth, brave flinger of the seed,

Strider of furrows, copesmate of the morn,

Which, stirr’d with quickenings of a day unborn,

Cinderalla - Chinedu Okezuonu

This ugly sight of yours

Knives my soft conscience

Melts the grease inside my knuckles.

The Hymn of Slippers - Rati Saxena

The taste is very bitter, from tongue to throat,

up to the intestine, bitterness everywhere

everything is bitter, 

Weave your joy - Philo Ikonya

With the tips of your fingers

And all of you like the

Orchestra conductor knows that music

Know your body:

Its heart drum

Piano toes…

Spring - Cathal O’Byrne

A slender blade of grass beside a. stone,

A gleam of sunshine ’tween the narrow roofs,

an old man - Alexandru Vakulovski

an old man

paralysed on one side

of his body

is carrying

a bucket to the bin

Where'er I go - Carl Olof Rosenius

Where'er I go, in mountains, woods, or valleys,

With me goes a Friend, I hear His voice,

Warns me, though invisible, and peace He grants me,

Rewind - Steinun Helgadóttir

Rewind.

Eyes fixed

on

widelenshorison

hands

an icelandic economist in soho - Sjón

orange tents

sprout up

around the pub

Italian for Farouters - Tiziana Colusso

My tongue is burnt by vanities:

parasemantic epidemics

stick to my palate

exhaling from the daily ink,

Karkhiyya - Abu Nuwas

Praise the wine for its munificence

And give it the best of names

Confidentially - Peyo Yavorov

‘Neath tender enchantments of a dreamy evening

And the two of us burning – don’t come too close.

Mortuos voco - Putinas

But silence shrouds the grave-yard on the hill. 

No corpse stirs from its damp and earthly cell.