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Issue # 5 Nov/Dec Edition 2021

Welcome to the World of Literature and the Arts.

ILA Magazine publishes an eclectic blending of literature, prose, poetry, short stories, and other works (visual art, photography, special features of authors and their books), by both established and
emerging writers and artists. We will periodically be featuring guest writers with interviews,
and occasionally, reviews and translations. We have also decided, even though we are fairly
new, to make a transition from quarterly to monthly, which shall continue to be published
online only, but it hasn't been decided as of yet, so for now, expect to just receive quarterly
until it becomes a more final decision.

Featured Quote

"Chaos leaves you with questions, and solitude with answers."

Hanan Muzfar


Speak to us at vibrantly hued close of day,
with tremoloed soft notes filtered through clear air
ending with a fade.

Speak to us by means of the young,
where the thrum of vibrating hearts are the warmest,
and compassion for those smaller and weaker
is so freely expressed.

Speak to us as we hear waves lapping the shore,
the crush of rock created by time,
building crescendos echoing the heights
to which man's soul can soar.

Speak to us by using photographic portraits,
faces laden with all manner of emotion,
a totality of feelings captured,
everything reflected in the shutterbug's lens
no visage invisible or unattainable.

Speak through us with your goodness, greatness
lightening many hearts, yours, theirs.
Let us be reminded that canorous notes still beckon,

warmth towards others still stirs the heart.
Our time is so limited,
every face holds a story of a life lived
whether short or long in duration.
Our history heard in the strum
of the cosmic musician's performance.
The omniscient song is there
for us to discover.

© Linda Imbler 10/2021

Featured Quote

"There is something delicious about writing the first words of a story. You never quite know where they'll take you."


Beatrix Potter
English Writer, Illustrator, Natural Scientist and
Conservationist (1866-1943)


Our Mission

When creativity is utilized,  it sparks the muse within us, whether through writing or visual arts, discovered or undiscovered, by chance or through a profound experience. Our goals for ILA is to spark that creativity, to encourage, support and publish the work of writers and artists along their journeys of self-expression, whether through a voice, a pen or a brush, and by providing a harmonizing, comfortable environment.

Creativity through Literature and the Arts is most beneficial to the inner senses and well-being from within. Each unique individual has a stronger sense of themselves and when you allow creativity to flow, whether it be through the various genres of literature and the arts, is is that impulse of that moment in time where a connection brings together, heart, mind and soul.

ILA publishes
cultural diversity of literature and the arts, with both established and emerging artists and writers, who have a brush yet to be used or a voice yet to be heard, with perhaps a deeper understanding of values, such as humanity, peace and freedom of speech. The goal of ILA is to broaden the horizons of many, to be a catalyst of guidance, to help boost confidence in people with a voice and who are just beginning their journeys, and for the silent voices who are just starting out on their adventures of artistic expression.

We are supportive of writers and artists with aspirations and goals. We welcome voices of diverse individuals from different backgrounds, religions, ethnicities, cultures, societies and with the utmost respect and love.

ILA is a non-profit magazine, devoted to the world of Literature and the Arts, and it is here,  there is hope to provide a platform, internationally. We want to hear the silent voices, to celebrate the colorful aspects of your creativity, the chance to be read and recognized, to offer a sense of belonging, a deeply-rooted feeling as if  you've always been here and never left.

We support all writers and artists who aspire to publish their work and share their artistic expression with both our E-Magazine, as well as our Facebook Group. Here, we feature Poetry/Prose, Editor's Choice, Short Stories, Special Features of writers, recent Book Publications, Visual Arts/Photography, Blog articles with frequent features of writers and their work, an occasional review, interview and translations.

We will be transitioning from publishing quarterly to monthly in the future, and when we do, we will surely announce.

Oh, and one more thing, November is ILA's First Year Anniversary so there are some plans to celebrate the entire month with loads of fun for our writers and artists.

Annette Nasser
Boston, USA



Here we are featuring writers who participated in some of the prompts offered every week on ILA Magazine Group.


No envelope will ever suffice it
      There is a hurricane sea

            At nights which

               Plead moon



                 Mosaic of

           Moth and candle

        I collected in my lives

      The postman shattered all

 The wings and posted wax only


Inspired poet to write from an Extract of  'Testimonial Love' by Torn Majnoons



Faraway from this urban jungle,
Is that sanctuary, my personal quadrangle
Where serenity and simplicity stand in harmony
Where my thoughts aren't bothered by a harsh cacophony.

With bare feet, I trample upon the cold grass
Or bask in the sun with coconut juice in my glass
Feel the cool air blowing against my tresses
Seeing my avian friends cut my stresses
In this laidback country life, days are happy
Fireflies emblazon bleak nights making them starry
Crickets sing melodic tunes to my eager ears
Summer breeze, flowers bloom, simple bliss are
there for years.



Oh, what a pleasant site to see!
Greenery, greenery calling hearts
- On it, birds gather to sing
- And send away city stress
I walk to it
And my body stretches with ease
The sky above chokes with smiles
As my eyes meet

Gentle breeze keeps me company
As silence whispers secrets in my ears
- I vow, to the city no more.



I'm on guard tonight
over the dead.
I call out to the stars
from the south and north.
The night is creeping out.
The moon underwater.
My eyes are burning illusion.



Let your heartbeats
Rhyme in every poetic word of your lovely heart
Breathed out by your beautiful soul
In your veins run a poet's blood
An indelible ink passionately flows
To wherever our wondrous muse yearns
And leaves lasting imprints
Written in someone's heart and soul by your golden quill
A bard's noble legacy that lives throughout the ages.



Mohammad Erfun Amin_Profile Pic.jpg


Mohammad Erfun Amin is a Rohingya, twenty-three year old passionate young writer and a trilingual published poet, living now at the world's biggest refugee camp in Bangladesh. He strongly believes in the soul connection between writer and reader. He has a mystic connection with the world of imagination and fantasy and his pen bows down in any papers on the themes of love, nature, misery of refugee life, loneliness of elders or younger, mysterious earth and about humanitarian, indeed.

His writing pieces may have different styles and methods. He believes poetry to be a source of escape and comfort and his major intention of writing is to make others feel happy. He possesses quite an optimistic and innovative writing style and sets his sight to revive the true essence of literature through his affection and enthusiasm with art and poetry.

Mohammad is the author of three poetry books, 'Miracles of Nature', 'Harvest of Dew' and 'A Memoir of Love Between Two Refugees.' Mohammad was honored on 22 February, 2020 by the Peru Government for Excellence of Literature, World Laureate in Literature from World Nations Writer's Union Forum in 2019, Bronze Star Award in February 18, 2019, Recognition of Exhibiting Literary Brilliance Par Global Standard under Gujarat Sahitya Academy in August 15, 2021 and Golden Badge Award on 15th of July, Motivational Strips Forum. 

Mohammad Erfun is the co-author of more than one hundred international anthologies and also in three Amazon Bestselling anthologies, 'A Spark of Hope: A Treasury of Poems for Saving Lives', 'Break the SILENCE: An Anthology of Poems Against Domestic Violence' by the literary forum, 'How to Write for Success' and 'Signature of Truth' by World Wide Writer's Union Forum. Many of his poems have been published in international anthologies, magazines, famous websites and in journals. He is a regular contributor of many online international poetry forums.

HARVEST OF DEW_Front Cover.jpg
MohammadEfunAmin_Book_Harvest of Dew Back Cover.jpg

Mohammad Erfun Amin's Book can be viewed on Amazon



Mowmita Sur is a freelance writer, poet and blogger, hailing from India. She thinks she possess the trait of a beautiful fairy, whilst she is trying to hide her friend, Unicorn from the savage world. She has garnered much acclaim for her poems. Mowmita has received many accolades for her writing in both National and International levels. She writes sweet, witty, fiction, nonfiction, horror and mysteries. Her characters are clever and fearless like her. Fantasy is her genre, which is a speculative fiction set in a fictional universe, often inspired by the real world. Mowmita spends most of her time reading, cooking, painting, dancing and traveling the world, exploring new places and catching her favorite shows. With over a decade of writing experiences, Mowmita has a uniquely wry sense of feeling that shines through in her newest collection of poems giving her characters a palpable spark! She is the rhyming queen and her latest work is an anthology of poems, from her predominant hues, this whimsical fairy conjures up an eclectic, even eccentric image through the diverse collection of endeavors, she is experiencing. She loves horror and sci-fi fiction stories and movies. As she proclaims, "glittering dust on my fairy wings...I fly to fairyland in jings!" Quirky is what you might expect from this author, which inspires the reader to go check out her book.



"The Clairvoyance Magic Spell" is a collection of poems and short stories. Readers will enjoy reading this book as it is
electrically filled with staccato bursts of humor and fiction. There are stories that people can encounter, some serious and spine-chilling, but don't take her word for it, load up your popcorn bowl, grab your coffee and get reading! Many of us have experienced things that we just can't explain, something that's so out of the ordinary and it stays with us for years. We can recount the story and remember every detail, vividly. Mowmita Sur loves to share some of her stories with you all, whether it's to give her readers a scare or to find some kind of explanation for the things that happened, it's up to you.

"The Clairvoyance Magic Spell" tells - "Spiritual protection is very powerful. It is when you either call upon any spiritual guide, an angel, God, or any positive universal power to use an energetic protective shield to keep you away from the negative forces", getting chills upon and down your spine, when contemplating. It sneaks into your brain to find your deepest, darkest fear. Hearts pound, blood rushes, breathing escalates. That can make you feel the thrill and adrenaline rush as riding a particularly fast roller coaster. There are portals to different dimensions. Something has created a way to the parallel universe. The gate to the portal leads to the paranormal strange world. It was intentionally opened and something came crawling out of its corpse. The dog barks at nothing, but can sense the supernatural. Something is watching you when you sleep. And there are those kind, beautiful fairies who can be called upon for help. To be worthy of fairy assistance, you must show respect to the environment and to the fairy. Then, the nature angel can't deny you. 

Mowmita Sur tells us that writing is her passion. Her book is available worldwide on


A noble cause, that many called flaws
Doth ease much a grievous rise,

A good deed is its own reward,
As it is unconquered.
A noble deed can be the seed,
of an evergreen happy tree.

It taks sometimes to grow

spread positivity in a flow.

And it helps many to turn,

From darkness to sunshine.

My noble cause has a voice!

It whispers, but so clear,

Of great compassion and humanity,

which wrapped up in utter cheer.

How sweet are the feelings!
Comes from noble deeds

When you help someone,

fulfilling their needs

Noble deeds are precious

Filled with love and satisfaction,

The hope and smile that they bring,

As if on cue, smiling broadly at everyone.




A guerrilla mind
a guerrilla soul
aroma of gunpowder
in a bleeding red twilight
words are no longer
no longer
speaking images
they are just gunshots
reverberating a distant environ
when long back
you took over me
a hostile territory
a hostile land
a scorched earth
our auras continue
restless again
in stranger times 
in a hunting
many other skies

Watercolor_Amitabh Mitra 2021.jpeg

Watercolor painted by Amitabh Mitra of Southernwood,
close to where the Artist/Poet lives. There are old, red-
roofed houses, built in 1910 in Cape Dutch Mansion
style and streets laden with Jacaranda trees.

The Qutub

A tall minaret holding the skies and beyond was not just a dream of conscience seekers but
ardent reachers in a cosmic journey of endless passion, like a kite flying over Jama Masjid
disappearing in clouds, like a passion reaching its stranger time zenith, like hushed voices
calling us back again, like summers at Delhi treading forgotten alleys of lost love and yet the minar always stood touching the glint of many faraway stars, touching our dreams, touching your laughter, touching your eyes as always.


Raindrops on Leaf

It's raining outside. It's one of those days when a winter here,
stammers at the brink of departure. Our Holy Hindu
month started with Mohalaya yesterday. What really remains 
with me now is just this element of awareness and colors in my mind.
The raindrops are dyed blue interspersed with white and thoughts of you

catch an occasional splash. Imagine this maddening evening running

on a narrow gauge train lines at Gwalior, the fort in the background

I chose to paint red.  Imagine your hair in a cascade blue,
the raindrops being porcelain thoughts join to one another
in words I had thought and spoken many a times. The eye only
seems to droop in dreams of stranger continuity.



Amitabh Mitra Bio Pic.jpg

Dr. Amitabh Mitra is a trauma surgeon at Cecilia Makiwane Hospital in Eastern Cape, South Africa. He is also a poet, artist and publisher.
As a widely published poet in both web and print, he has held many exhibitions of his poetry and art. You can read more about Dr. Mitra on his website at:


Poetry and Prose


Darkness is a germ
that slithers through our bodies
when snow behind our ribs melts
it rapidly reproduces

The central crowded street of the city
is captured by the shadow of a dark cloud
Everyone is eager to drink light
but the light is being continuously boiled
on a confectioners' oven

Drinking the boiling liquid cannot be the choice
no one brave enough to challenge the fire

The cloud roars
and everybody runs in search of shelter
The butcher cashes the hasty moment and
minces the offals with the meat
A white cat at the same moment
hearty laps the soft milky light
The clouds become thicker
and roar, more and more.

Night is the conqueror
The night we nourish in our hearts!!!



Never have I been a poet as such,
Always a poet-to-be.

Poems have been somnolent to me,
on the leaves of misty mornings.
And waking up, they are in flight
on the wings of birds in the blue sky.

Poems flow away with the shy streams
in unknown hills and dales.
Sometimes do they sigh faintly on dew drops,
drowsy and dilettantish.

Poems leap to life on the roadside,
in the eyes of a stranger.
When I look again at it, a bit startled,
it is there, no longer!

Poesy flows around me,
tiptoes in and out of the house I live in.
It dashes in and disappears at its sweet will,
shines and splashes off and on.

Poesy flows in waves with fire and flowers,
with the faces of fiends and fairies flashing by,
daring me to put them on paper
in a prison of a poem,
flinging a piquant provocation to me,
the perennial poet-to-be.



Lost in the clouds of emotions
Wandering all over my life
Emotions ignite me
Sometimes deploying ecstasy
Yet, tormenting at times.

These clouds sometimes pour heavily
Alluring thunder and storm all around
Sometimes the wind blows them all away
Manifesting the bright blue sky.

The bright blue sky of my life, when appears
Showers me drops of love and care
Brings along a touch of overwhelming joy
And unleashes the wisdom that the clouds cover,
every time when they come over
Only then can I see the way to accomplish tranquility.

Time and time again do these clouds come and go
And somewhere between this to-and-fro of the clouds
Is my life swinging
And there is me, lost
in my very own life.



I am silent
Not in silence
But in the word
I don't know anything else
If there is evidence with me
I am unable to open my mouth
there are many desires
No more hope
I am raped and prisoner
Like the bird inside the cage
Within beyond range
To injured bandage...
I am a piece of glass
Never break
The pain is evaporated
No more death...
I sleep nearby
Says in the ear
When needed
Despite the negligence
I am not weak
But, I am a piece of glass not girls
Life is concept
Nothing else...
Beyond the girls
Path of aspect...



When the rain is sad the last drops
I've saved a few afternoons in the river

The river is dry, the feeling of the river
What truth can be understood?
Only the low pressure after the afternoon is the source of the sorrows.

Can you make excuses for the silence?
But I can't give up on overdue autumn
I borrowed the rain regions to sympathize with me

Do you still return in the middle of the Areca season?
Pick up some fallen wind ships
who knows, each grudge will heal and remember

Who knows, the day of the great sound is coming
Let's crown the rendezvous point

What. do you promise each other?
Oh river of loving seasons
And wind too
There is water with me to the end of the road...


Editor's Choice

A Poem for a Poet

I look out the window
pausing between the lines of your poem.
Sunshine and shadow play hide and seek
outside, on a solitary holiday noon.

Leaves are lambent and lucid
with a gentle shower of autumn rain,
and keep lookin on at an azure sky
where feathery clouds fly around.

The lines in your poems
lap up again on the shore
of the semi-seen and hemi-heard
and Demi-dead worlds mired in mist,
memory and music
lived, outlived and buried in oblivion
faded and forgotten,
lost and found yet again!

I know that I am a kin to you.
I know that I am akin to you!



Tonight, I write to set my dream free
I have seen the sun go down,
Sunken beneath the breath of the hill.
The doubtful candle on my desk will invite
A blanket of stars showing me
The last fragment of the night light.
I want to spill the disappearing moon in my first cup of tea,
Raging I am to let the night go;
Night that brought me the light.

I need to harbor to wake up and free my dream
From the high ambitions buried low.
I do not want to become a lone actor
Who does not read the eyes of his contemporaries.
I am figuring my ways out;
The dream goes undeclared still -
It is a simple act of courage to face the entangled world.
My grief is buried in a grave and
I weep no tears of pearls in my visit.
The maple leaf that stuck three days in my windowpane
Has flown away.
I am left with a fortune cookie
And I have to fill the jar as I pick from it.



Starless night walks horribly
Through the innocent heart of Kashmir
Bloody beads of rain
Killed yellow daffodils.

I heard a boy
Wailing heavily in the dark,
Fear coursed through my lungs
New born tears left the womb
Through my hanging lids
And sparkled the stream of cheeks
"Why are you crying?"
I asked him with fear
My mind was distorted
It went from twinkling blue to purple
Thoughts, like meteors, flew away
I felt utterly alone,
the boy had hollow cheeks
Where every single thing of history
Could be easily read,
HIs shallow eyes lured my attention;
"Sister, I can't describe to you anything,
The color of this sorrow
That came over me
Is darker than a crow,
Its valley runs towards infinity."
He said this to me
I saw a bolt of pain
Cracking the dam of his heart,
Tears pricked my soft retina
They, gushing down my cheeks, left some
Red marks on my face;
"But...I may help you"
I said to him
He wiped the cool tears
off his brow by the help
of a torn out handkerchief;

"I have lost my beloved!"
He gasped through flying tears
"His name is Zakir"
My body shook when
He told me this,
Zakir was a pearl of paradise,
I could not believe in
What this boy said
"Sister please, believe in me."

He did not say anything for some
Long and harsh minutes,
Tears soaked his clothes,
Soon I began to weep
And found salt scattered
On my trembling lips,
"I have been here
Since the last week"
He took a heavy breath
And then carried on
"This is the place
Where from he left
For his heavenly abode,
Raindrops are pelting me
To leave this spot
But I am waiting here for his return,
I know he is somewhere hidden..."
He cried like a baby
I could not stop my tears
And gave a hug to this brother
Then I asked for his name
"Abid Gulzar..." He replied brokenly.

A cold breeze blew
Through the strings of night,
Moon struggled very hard
To disperse the hatred clouds,
They wet away sadly
But not before sending down some water droplets.

I saw a man coming toward us
He had worn a black uniform,
Moustache, painted with black ink
Swirled up and down by the passing wind,
His tongue like a monkey's tail
Talked with my brother in silence for a while,
Alas! A bullet came out
From the weapon of this dark man
And hit on the forehead of m brother,
Blood ran as a lightning,
My brother's cry was pale and oppressed,
I felt paralyzed and watched
All this with frozen lips,
His soul went towards Heaven
Where are beloved brother Zakir lives

I was afraid if that
Oppressor wanted to kill me, too
But he could not think of that
For they had already
Shot me a year ago.

(The Muslimah Mission)


Mistletoe, Innocent or Guilty

There's mistletoe hanging
from the trunks of trees in the mountains.
When I was a child, I believed in
the innocent tradition, the significance
within the magic kiss.
Sometimes, I still believe that.
At other times, I allow the truth to surface,
and I remember that all the old tales
spoke of its complicity in bringing about
all manner of treacherous ends.



I may not be an attractive -lad, may be!
But I have a beautiful heart.
O Houri of Jannat-ul-Firdous!
Marry me today,
Now is the session of marriages going on.
For how long -
O'Caffeine of my morns,
For how long,

O' Cocaine of my evens,
Shall I've to hold in abeyance?
Or, to dig my emotions deep
Into the trenches of my heart?
Sings the woeful ballads
Of Shakespeare daily.
Fervid in thermal waves and ruts,
Like an ironsmith's smithy,
Snoring in irrepressible flames.
So does t'is charred poet of love
Staunch hapless and poor to guard self
Against the bale-suspiration of heart;

Brazen like the cannon's mouth,
In battlefields,

Void of mercy and clemency,
So does my heart; unfiltered
Against the syndrome,
Is mercilessly in love with you.

Furls its flag very oft like the
Rolling stone of Sisyphus.
Come, my Darling! Come,
Trot onto the lancet carpet of my heart softly,
Like the tip-toe of a bride, in a new house,
And save me today from t'is infernal-torture
Of my hell-heart; shrieking and moaning,
Scudding and booming, e'er,
As Alighieri's Inferno.
Hey Lady! should a lad of charisma,
The specimen of aesthetic theory on globe,
Sing the ballads of charity and sulphur
In the age, capable to touch

The topless-towers of zeitgeist.
Hey! should he be damned like t'is?
Like an autumn's deigning dash
The leaves into the dust
By the winter solstice.
No, Juliet, no!
The labour would be intolerable,
To shoulder, no not anymore,

Any separation, any labour borne.
O, the refrain of my Ghazal!
O, the kernel of my Qasida!
It would be a crime, on the part of deities
To quarter the spirits of one insane-lover
Into shreds and pieces
'S in love with her precocious-mistress
From the calendars of hot days and cold nights,
Likewise, an ingenious fabric woven by the Bard
Circa '95, in an ancient city of Verona, Italy.


Firdous Bahar has done his English Literature from the University of Kashmir, Srinagar.

O' Ye land of saints
Don't you pray for the dead bulbul
Who died, while singing the ballads of freedom
That too, for the meadows of Kashmir?!

O' Ye land of saints
Don't you beckon the Old Spring of Badamwari;
The goddess of new life and single breath?!

O' Ye land of saints, my Kashmir
Don't you long for your chinars
Who witnessed the early spring buds,
With their aborted bloom
That choked due to the winds of hate...?!


I am in love a thousand times my life,
To this Elysian Fields, I call my home.
Every dawn is so cheerful and heavenly,
With the Eastern King showering its glory
The enticing, calming waves touching my soul,
The soothing melody of the nightingales and the fowls,
The warm embrace of the cooling wind,
The refreshing lush greens and the trees,
The sweet greetings of the folks and all,
And the loving kiss from the one I adore.

What could I ask for more?
Ah! This is utter Nirvana in this universe.



Let me share my memories, those of my childhood
Where I spent my life in glee and splendor
On the countryside, where nature abundant was my friend

Distant hills appearing in mist, those flowing
Rivulets, leaving silvery streaks
Laden with dew those gigantic greens
Soothing the eyes at break of dawn
Shimmering sunlight, glowing gold
Oh! What a sight, etched deep in blissful minds

Those cattle hooves, raising dust, 
chiming bells hung from their necks,
Shepherd's songs filling the air
in search of pastures green, they proceed in line
only to return on dawning dusk

Greetings and wishes from the old to young
sitting on the benches they enquire, 
tones filled with 
love they exchange
Where else can we find such a sight
Pastoral love filled to the brim
overflowing thoughts, flooding my mind.



It is of a memory I write...

A sadness in my heart hovers
Like the shimmer of the moon on
A river muted by clouds at night.

There were all these people in my life.
But they died - leaving behind
only the stardust of memories.

Notes of nocturnes create footprints
on the fallen snow, leaving imprints
that melt with the passage of time.

Again, spring will come, herald new lives.


Footprints in the Snow by Mitali.jpeg


Your eyes must be
the eyes of a dead fish
always open,
yet unable to see
my deathless wait like a Phoenix
my endless love like the sky

Your brain must be
the brain of a robot
calculating heartbeats,
yet, unable to feel

Your nature must be
of a lotus;
A flower that naturally prefers
not to grow at anyone's yard
and the visitors come and enjoy
the place it is found
as a holiday destination
yet, promising, not to make a home, there.


Sunshant Kumar B.K..jpeg

SUSHANT KUMAR B.K. is a Nepalese poet, educator and freelance writer who resides in Gulariya, Bardiya, Nepal. He has a MA degree in English Literature from Central Department of English, Tribhuwan University (TU) and Political Science from Kathmandu Central. At present, he has been pursuing his third Masters Degree in Public Administration. He teaches at Janasewa Multiple Campus, Baidi, Bardiya. He is also the principal of Bageshwory Secondary Boarding School, Gulariya, Bardiya. He writes poems in English and Nepali language. He has attended writing workshops jointly organized by Fulbright Nepal and Dignity Initiatives, Kathmandu, Nepal.

His poems have been featured in international anthologies, journals, magazines, newspapers and online portals such as Pandemic Poetry 2020, The Kathmandu Post, The Himalayan Times, The Gurkha Times, My Republic, Indian Periodical, Grey Thoughts, Borderless Journal, Williwash Wordpress, Bharath Vision, The Piker Press, Synchronized Chaos, Atunis Poetry, News Kashmir Magazine, Singh Courier, Seto Pati, Sahitya Post, Shabdasopan, Farak Samachar, Central Khabar, and Firewordsdaily.

Two of his English poems have been translated into Latin American, Spanish language and published in the renowned magazine, Revisita Literaria Trinando. He can be contacted at



If I ever see you again -
let it be a precedent
worthy of the main scene of a historic
or a western
set at the end of a sandy town
any situational context
here and now
a silent parade a civil protest

just let it not be a crystalline tarn
and that doom which seriously puzzled me
taken aback naïve
like a character from a Pushkin's poem
the eyes wider than the Baltic blue

If ever it rises again - this sunken fleet
a holed flag the color white
be it in an open sea
at full sail!
let it be knightly face-to-face and free
let's play a fair-play
and not that damned display
and the glass which breaks irises
(and then all reach a parting of the ways - after-party)

Let not our effort to build a castle in the sky be wasted
disgust for all who are not worth your little finger
and who don't devour me with their eyes
as if I sink into the earth free
of guilty conscience -
for a hundred days of griefs
a celebrated fire flower and then charge to the stormy weather -
why should I worry about time and trivial themes
let others trouble their heads about it!

There were sounds, all the same and terrible
where symphony orchestras end up in streets
and screeching strings make halls full -
where little is big fake is real

There were I made my life's masterpiece of you
what a power lust! jerk blast!
Splendor and terror!
And the show of your carvings scuffs and blows in my head.

I wish to meet you, take your clothes off to see under your skin once again
they can burn me then
make the bonfire
and set me on fire
impale me on a thorn -
others are not worth a damn!

just to see you intact once more
then on my heel to spin
and behind you to spit -
fling me in the air again, you dog

but with the wind at my back now

TRANSLATED from Montenegrian to English: by PETER PENDA

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Katarina Sarić, Born on 10/03/1976, lives and creates between her native Budva and
Belgrade. At FF Nikšić, she graduated with a degree in philosophy and then language
and South Slavic literature, at FPN Podgorica she is completing postgraduate studies
in social policy and social work.

She writes socially-engaged poetry, prose and essays. She is a writer, poetic provocateur
and performance artist. Katarina is the author of 13 independent editions, represented in
numerous co-authors, anthologies, collections on all major regional portals.

Scientific works have been written about her poetry and prose. Her works were awarded,
translated and published in the region but also on the global literary scene.

Book Publications


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Soon after Author David Soh Poh Huat successfully published his first book, "Nature Gifts of the Soursop Leaves", he soon ventured out to write his second book and published "Care Giving Gift of Unconditional Love". During his journey as a caregiver for his late father, Thomas Son Yew Chong, David soon made a discovery of what both patients and caregivers are fearful to ask. David's late sister's journey was an experience for the author and made him realize that by reaching out to people, there is hope and faith in the recovery process.

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You can read more about Author David Soh Poh Huat and his books on his website: DAVID SOH

Reflections on both books...


When the results came
it's Cancer
I asked Why Me

Deep in my heart
inner voice says
I have a Plan

Why Me
I asked?
You are my Angel
With a purpose

Make known my creation
Nature Gifts of the Soursop Leaves
its beauty and benefits

Why me I asked again
You need open the eyes
And hard truths of
Care Giving Gifts of Unconditional Love

With this I live and accept
Your Mission for me on earth
and I said
Thank you

Dedicated to my sister Susan Soh, who passed away on November 3, 2021.

© David Soh Poh Huat 2021

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LUZVIMINDA GABATO RIVERA is from the Philippines. She is a multi-awarded and Amazon's bestselling author,
an excellent international research journal reviewer,  an editorial board member, multi-awarded researcher, international
motivational speaker, licensed nurse and teacher.

She finished her postgraduate courses with academic distinction and academic excellence awards such as the Doctor of
Public Administration (her 6th Degree). She took up units leading to a Bachelor of Law.

Luzviminda has published 11 books, namely: 'A Gift', 'A Gift II', composed of 71 poems and translations of her 'A Gift" 
in five series, 23 languages and 17 countries; 'Crossroads II: A Poets Life Journey' - 4th Anthology of Motivational Strips
composed of 83 World's Best Poets and 'A Memoir of Love' - A Quadrilingual (English, Italian, French and Spanish), in
various poetic forms (free verse, haiku, rhyme scheme, sonnet and tanka); 'Love Spell' - A Collection of Sonnets in Asian 
and European languages; 'A Gift III', 'Life Essence' (Poetic Shades of Life), 'Whispers of the Soul' (multilingual Sonnets)
and 'Beauty of Life' (A kaleidoscopic display of life in 100 Sonnets), 'Poets Unify World', 'Positivity Within', and 'Unfeigned Symphonies'. All 11 books became the #1 Rank in Amazon bestsellers. Also, her poems have been published in international

e-zines and magazines.

Luzviminda has received multiple recognitions. She has placed first 1st in the Southeast Asian Intercontinental Poetry Award,
which was a posthumous tribute to the great poet, Kairat Duissenov Parman by the Union Hispanomundial De Escritores (UHE).

She was chosen as the sole poet from the Philippines as the Most Outstanding of 2020 En El Continente de Asia by the Union Hispanomundial De Escritores.

She is the Executive National President for Philippines of the Union Hispanomundial De Escritores. She serves as the Chief Administrator for the Philippine Office of Motivational Strips and an approving editor of Bharath Vision website magazine based

in India.

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Seven of the books were published by GMGA Publishing and five books were designed by Carl Scharwath

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'Unfeigned Symphonies' is the author's 12th book and at the same time, her 2nd Birthday book composed
of the enchanting poems in various poetic forms namely, acrostic, free verse, gogyokha, rhyming scheme
and sonnets. Below, websites where you can search the author and her books:

Amazon  and

Featured Poem

the tyrant seasons of your smile
consumed the springs of my heart
and left me holding the storm of your hypocrisy,
but I died never, but let myself in comma
for the breath that was to pump me,
and the sun hat was to kiss me
for the eternal modesty and love.

And through the haunting darkness
I spoke to the throbs of my past
which had felt the hailing fears of death
but still survived while serving
the eternal Lord and His love.



For more than ten years she has lived in our house
I love her half the love my wife and my daughter give her.

Sometimes she makes me tired
so I wanted to toss the cotton bundle through the window
as she pissed on my rough draft poem
as her fur were attracted to my clothes - so did a cat-magnet.

My wife traveled to Korea
only told me don't forget to feed the cat on time
and I was letting go...

And yet I do it like the machine does
suddenly I love the cat
definitely the same that my wife and my daughter had...

Dear our cat
stay with me for long-lived
you may piss on the well-known draft poem that I'm going to draft
your fur will cling to my clothes
I don't care if beautiful women had watched it on the street!

Written by TRAN QUANG DAO (from Vietnam)
Translated from Vietnamese into English by Nguyen Chi Hoan

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Above image of poet, Tran Quang Dao

Visual Art/Photography


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OLEKSANDRA BABIICHUK is from the Ukraine and now lives in Vancouver, Canada. She writes poems in Ukranian and translates into English, and is an avid painter.


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DHANANJAY JAGTAP is from Maharashtra, India. He completed his engineering back in 2017.
He works in he corporate sector. He loves cooking, reading and photography, exploring nature with his camera.


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Artist ALI MUKHTAR lives in Pakistan. He has had a passion of the Arts from his childhood. He never took Art classes,

yet he has painted freely for 10 years until present time. He paints murals on walls and canvas as well. He paints beautifully
for never having taken art classes and we thought to showcase his work, here on the magazine. Some of his other paintings have been previously published on ILA Magazine Blog. We hope to feature more of his work in the future, again.

About the Editors

ANNETTE NASSER, Founder/Editor, hails from the outskirts of Boston, Massachusetts and is an avid food and nature photographer, an internationally known book reviewer and has reviewed books as well as reviewed/interviewed various poets on the specifics of their singular poems. She is a writer/poet and has been published in Literary House Review, Hudson Valley Poetry Digest, SpinningS, Seeker Magazine, Sequoyah Cherokee River Journal, as well as many other literary magazines, journals and anthologies, globally. Her reviews have been included in several books as well as other forms of literature. She worked as an offline Editor for an online Magazine (no longer in circulation, receiving a past Award of Excellence. She is currently working on several  literary projects, a cookbook in memory of her mom, and several other books in the works.

ATIF KHURSHID WANI, Senior Editor, is a Kashmiri Poet, Reviewer and Columnist. He was born on 11th January 1995, when everything around him was frozen, and brought up in an educated family, which belongs to the Anantnag area of Kashmir Valley. Atif graduated from Kashmir University and did his Masters from LPU, Punjab. Though he started writing at the age of 16, it was only at LPU, where he published his first poem, in "Reigning Darkness", an International Poetry Anthology.

Since then, Atif has become part of more than 30 National and International Poetry Anthologies. He has co-authored some anthologies as well: 'The Way We Were', 'Mourning of Mother', Robaroo I and Robaroo II.'

His biography also appeared in the book, 'Biography of Living Poets', published in May 2020. He has contributed poetry to different magazines, including: 'The Love of a Child', 'Spellbound Love', 'Passionatechic', 'LitLight', 'Hold My Cold Heart', 'Life on Lease', 'The Withered Throne', etc.

In addition to his poetry, he has reviewed books like, 'Tears Fall in my Heart', 'The Lost Princess', 'Unheard Voices' and for various newspapers including Kashmir Horizon, Country Talks and News Horizon. He has been named among 100 Bards of 2019 by Literary Club and Professional Enhancement Club, Nigeria. Currently, Atif is a Research Scholar at Lovely Professional University, India. He is a freelancer and his book, 'The Shattered She' was published in September 2020.
Also in 2020, Atif honorably participated as a judge and Narrator in a Literary Event on behalf of Konnect E-zine.

SAHIL MUDASIR, Co-Editor, is an Indian Kashmiri Poet, born in Melhura Shopian. His collections include, 'Secrets of an Occupied Heart' and 'The Shadows'. He is also the Co-author of books, 'Inked Gems' and 'Dreamers Never Die.'

Sahil was brought up in an illustrious and highly educated middle class family. He received his early education from his native village. He received his BA from Government Degree College, Anantnag, and a Masters in English Literature from the University of Kashmir. In June of 2019, he qualified for the National Eligibility Test as Assistant Professor for higher education. Working as a teacher, Sahil Mudasir is a renowned poet and a well-known writer of modern times. Through poetry,  he highlights the socio-political and economic conditions of his homeland, Kashmir.

The poet aptly keeps his write-ups juxtaposed with the outside and inside barricades of conflict and war. There are other subjects and themes on which the poet writes. The aspects of his poetry include compositions of every day life with themes mostly of love, nature, relationships, emotions and religion. The poet has acclaimed fame and name by being an exceptional figure within the world of literature.

His poetry has been published in National and International Journals, Magazines, Newspapers, websites, anthologies and more. Sahil has been honored with many awards at various platforms.

HANAN MUZAFAR, Contributing Editor, is from Sopore, Kashmir. He has done his MTech Electronics and Communication Engineering from Cochin University of Science and Technology in Kerala.  He has been writing poetry and quotations for many years. Hanan says, "writing is more than just words, it is a way to express yourself and others. Yes, it's hard to write in a society where your views are not accepted much." He believes in victory for those who believe: What a man needs, there is a way.

CARL SCHARWATH is a Contributing Editor and periodically writes an occasional interview column or collaboration with poets on our Blog Section.

ADEYEMI TAIWO OMOTOLANI,  is a Contributing Visual Arts Editor and hails from Ikorodu, a city in Northeast Lagos State, Nigeria.


Submissions Form for Poetry and Prose, only.

Please read the following submission guidelines, below.


* No sexual content, no vulgarity, no profanity shall be approved.

* No negative literature toward race,  religion, culture or ethnicity,
otherwise it will be declined.

FOR POETRY: Only 1-2 of your best, unpublished poems, may be
submitted on this Submissions Form, or, if you prefer, you may contact
any of the Editors and submit by email (located below).

ONE (1) submission per writer, submit by email, only.


Contact, only. We are not accepting online

We will accept original and unpublished Visual Arts/Photography by email.
You may provide an image of yourself and a brief synopsis about your art.


Contact via Email, only. Please do provide an image of your book(s), a brief,  third-person BIO about yourself as well as information about your book. Your synopsis should be written short and precise. Optional but not required, provide an image of yourself.

* FOR ALL  OTHER INQUIRIES (About Music, YouTube Videos, etc.), contact following editors at:

Annette Nasser, Founder/Editor:

Atif Khurshid Wani, Senior Editor:

Walid Boureghda, Assistant Editor

Contact Us

Thanks for submitting!

All content on ILA Magazine is copyrighted by the Magazine, its respective writers and artists who have presented their work, therein. All writers and artists who submit to ILA, retain copyrights to their work. Reproduction of any kind is prohibited without the express written permission of the copyright holder.

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