Ode 4 - Odysseus Elytis

A solitary swallow	*	and Spring's great worth is found
It takes a lot of work	*	to make the sun tum round
Their shoulders to the Wheels	*	it takes a thousand dead
It also takes the living	*	to offer up their blood.

To say you and I - Eduardo Milán

To say you and I is to enter the circus

there the lion, there the circle of monkeys,

You do not Want Me? - Gahuan-Beyg

You do not want me, Zohrah.

Is it because I am maimed?

Yet Tamour-leng was maimed,

Going on crippled feet,

And he conquered the vast of the world.

Come, my beloved! - Muhammad din Tilai

Come, my beloved! And I say again: Come, my beloved!

The doves are moaning and calling and will not cease.

  Come, my beloved!

Poetic Human Operation - Ophelia Alcantara Dimalanta

I write to you, you read me, 

in the most distant strangeness, 

under the skin and inside it, 

blind lovers clinging to the signs. 

Loneliness without remembering - Hérib Campos Cervera

Oh, cloud voice! Oh, Velvet! 

Giving a name to your moss music 

African Presidents - James O. Gaygay

Your empty promises surge our expectations

We swallow the lies your tongue preached

Our bellies became conceived by your deceits

Frustration, disappointment, and regrets are our sons and daughters

They play in the vicinity of our minds

You poli-tricked our minds with your political games

Moral reflections (Sonnet XXI) - Vincenzo da Filicaja

Hebe once wild streams of false delight their source 

Betray'd, this feeble heart inundating; 

Turbid with eddies which vain passions bring; 

Sense their dark fount; my breast their barren course.

Kabirau, my Anointing Oil - Ueantabo Fakaofo

KABIRAU, KABIRAU

Sweet and pleasant is your scent

I seek to break my evil spell

Childhood was Mud-Play and Dirty Fingernails - Liyou Libsekal

I was born to a woman whose hands are washed with ritual

balancing act

temperatures and tempers

home grown versus raised afar,

Brown Girl in the Ring - Linisa George

For most of my childhood,

I wanted to be the brown girl,

The pretty brown girl in the ring.

I knew I could never be the white girl,

So I dreamt and wished to be the brown girl.

On the Green Hill Summit - Tembong Denis Fonge

Atungong

Step by step and gently I ascend

The Green Hill hoping to step on the summit,

I rock, twist and painfully pull upward,

To this spot all day long,

For, from this point, I long,

And I aspire to survive.

We are the sons of Rizēg - Muhammad al Fagīr

We are the sons of Rizēg, our nickname is "handful of dust".

They destined us for destruction, behold we are alive,

Sahara - Mohammed Ebnu

What lies behind

those walls

inscribed with your name

The Unity of Faith - Vemana

Kine are of divers colours, but they all milk the same; 

Altar flowers are not alike, but worship is one flame; 

From: The Divine Pymander - Hermes Mercurius Trismegistus

A book have I written —

Not mine, but the book of the world;

For her sake

And the sake of her God,

Have I written these things.

Lust is loss - Kimbi Bismark

Lust has fathered children, who are lost

In nature, they infect the land like locust,

They have assaulted this gorgeous grape

And other fruits, without mercy, they rape.

An awakening - Alice Furlong

O Spring will waken the heart of me 

With the rapture of blown violets! 

If my father were to speak at last - Loic Ekinga

Son, 

I never imagined anything I planted 

On my way here would grow as tall as you did

Let glory return to God—

Since then I go - Birago Diop

Since then I go

I follow the pathways

the pathways and roads

Wilt thou love God as He thee? - John Donne

Wilt thou love God as He thee? then digest,

My soul, this wholesome meditation,

Poplar Trees - Jovan Dučić

Why tonight the poplars rustle that way?

So passionately, so strange? Why they rustle so?

The yellow moon slowly sets behind the hills,

Distant and black, like a foreboding; and dreams

News Paper - Laxmi Prasad Devkota

Newspaper covers world news

Also expresses its own views

But tilts like leaning tower of Pisa.

The Soul Has a Message - Alemtsehay Wodajo

From the time she arrives, until the time she leaves her borrowed body,

the soul has a message, a role to perform and the means to perform it:

My Dearest Mommie - Lord Cam

She is dead now...but I wish she was still here

To celebrate Mother's Day with her loving son

School - Briceida Cuevas Cob

And the ants that sing, laugh, dance

and play in circles, began to cry.

She was born a woman, one on whom they

threw boiling water when she appeared

in the kitchen.¹

El Charro - José Santos Chocano

A coat of silk, cheap jewels he loves to flaunt,

Some tawdry lace that serves him for a frill:

He grasps a pistol butt, and seems to taunt

The world and grip it in his ugly will.

Fouzti, prayer poem - Sheikh Ahmadou Bamba

O you my Lord may glad tiding forever be on Jesus and on His Mother Mary throughout this Poem. 

O You Who Said: Make no distinctions between any of My Prophets!

Love Song For Words - Nazik al-Malaika

Why do we fear words

when they have been rose-palmed hands,

fragrant, passing gently over our cheeks,

and glasses of heartening wine

sipped, one summer, by thirsty lips?

Sleeping on the Street - Yi Byeong-Ryul

Removing your clothes like old newsprint

I lay you down raw on a damp mattress and look down on you.