Vondel's Lucifer (Act III, lines 1-120) - Joost van den Vondel

Luciferians. Chorus of Angels
Luciferians:
How oft belief proves but delusive hope!
Alas! how things have changed. We deemed no rank
Than ours more happy in this rising Realm,—
Yea, thought our state even like unto God's own,
More blessed than Earth and e'er unchangeable.—

Land of my Forefathers - Mathalea Ntaote

High in the bosom of snow-crowned mountains,
Where winds sing hymns only peaks know,
The valleys hold whispers of cattle bells,
Silent vow-taking spirits linger where my forefather’s graves lay.

The Clearing - Francisca Stoecklin

I think of you. I think of our hours of love
That we spent, so sweetly, in the wooded depths..
On damp leaves, past earnest firs,
Beech, brown mushrooms on hardly trodden
Paths, we came to a clearing.

Come, keep this Feast - Bishop Nektarios of Aegina

Come, keep this Feast, who holy things revere,
And with pure minds, your Lord adore with fear.

Mother reads my poems - Ranko Pavlović

Unexpectedly I turned up
In my parents’ house
Once full of joy
And found lonely old woman
Grown into numerous years,
With glasses on her nose
And a book in her hands.

Box of coloured pencils - Nadia Mifsud

you are my cousin, my aunt
you are my brother-in-law, my sister
you are the boy who sat next to me
on the classroom bench

Poem no. 19 - Cyro Pimentel

I hear within me fugitive goddesses
Played on from afar by pastoral stars.

Distinctive face - Anila Bukhari

I was born into a family of beauty and charm,
But I was the odd one out, with a distinctive face.
My hair wasn’t long and black, but short and brown,
My skin was not fair, but a deep shade of brown.

The Luny law - Maryam Ala Amjadi

WARNING NO (1):
This is not a poem
I’m just trying to ask you 
to hear what I’m not saying 
and I promise
these tears are not mine 

The Difference Between You and Me - Hussein Habasch

The difference between you and me
Is that you sit cross-legged,
Leisurely savoring your glass of wine
While I wrap myself around myself
As I gulp from the glass of pain at the hospital.
You post the photo of your ninety something mother on Facebook,
Still in her prime.
And I remember the complexions of my seventy something
Mother with all her wrinkles.
You see her every day and place a peck on her cheeks,
Whereas I have seen her only twice in twenty-two years.
I kiss her photo every day in longing.
God bless our mothers!