No matter, these liquid globes shine in shade In seclusion, sow the gems in tattered lap To tag that old, unaddressed, unfeathered cap Well claimed by the ‘outsider’ , a native made No matter, these liquid globes shine in shade The rush knows not the age, wage, cage or raised clap Life is, by all its means, a well-managed snap With time and tide, a long narrative ill-paid No matter, these liquid globes shine in shade A sweet word is sour; a sword and a loose trap To let the innocent dove ignore poor gap For wanton boys, a sport; for the rest, a trade No matter, these liquid globes shine in shade Has anyone but consciously drawn a map? Identifying a voiceless voice to scrape An eternal line, and an ail to upgrade No matter, these liquid globes shine in shade ©️MUSHTAQUE B. BARQ Jammu/Kashmir, India FULL MOON The full moon creeps from nowhere, oh my ! And peeps from the vast , pristine forest Slowly rises up the flowing crest Soft, rustling trees moving trees on high The full moon creeps from nowhere , oh my ! Looking out my window as I rest Watching the bright ,full moon at its best Cuddling my pillow I can only sigh The full moon creeps from nowhere ,oh my ! Surge of loneliness seem to protest Your warm,tight embrace,still the sweetest ; Gazing at the light hanging in the sky The full moon creeps from nowhere ,oh my ! Crystal moon ,now, shines at its brightest As it leaves the greeny, lush forest Joy in my heart I almost cry The full moon creeps from nowhere, oh my ! The silvery moonlight goes farthest Over seas, plains,far and near islets Lighting the ever blue, bluest sky The full moon creeps from nowhere, oh my ! ©️L. B. Morandarte Philippines A Song for Ethos Always soft and breezy, The wind blows o’er my hair. Golden birds sing an air, and notes seem so weezy, always soft and breezy. The songs we never share are those we never dare: The notes are sleazy, always soft and breezy. Yet, we tend to forswear, and sing out words to share: Love ethos are easy, always soft and breezy. Hate drowns us in despair, and shadowcasts much glare. So, let’s be unsleazy, always soft and breezy. Walid Boureghda © All Rights Reserved Algeria THE FIRST TIME The first time I fell under love's spell Twinkling stars descended to my eyes Each breath I took were joyous sighs In wonderland I thought I'd dwell The first time I fell under love's spell. Everyday brings a pleasant surprise My happiness I can't disguise Akin to an oyster freed from my shell The first time I fell under love's spell. All moments seemed spent in paradise The moon and the stars, my staunch allies Filled with emotions nice and nobel The first time I fell under love's spell. My heart fluttered like butterflies Birds sang lovesongs from the blue skies Shy me transformed into a jolly belle The first time I fell under love's spell. Soon I found out love wasn't all highs Behind the joys lurk some goodbyes Those fragile bubbles burst in farewell The first time I fell under love's spell. ©️Myrtle Eve Tejada Philippines “UNTITLED” Love for life and life for love Let's carol the time away Every night and every day Let's enjoy my sweetest dove Love for life and life for love Let's make each morn gay Let's on fanciful horizons stray Let's cherish my dearest dove Love for life and life for love My love abides farther away I languish night and day Although I pine but will prove Love for life and life for love I firmly believe that a day In each other's arm we'll stay Singing under fragrant grove Love for life and life for love ©️Safdar Bhatti All Rights Reserved Pakistan UNTITLED Yes, dry summer days are dry as dust A loss. The crop is in shock Innocent buds in despair, a wake-up knock Unsettled, dying in rays, utterly unjust Yes, dry summer days are dry as dust. Unchecked aphids, cause harm, we often talk An unkindness of ravens responds to the raven's squawk A sticky substance - honeydew, turns into white rust Yes, dry summer days are dry as dust. A hope, swings in the doldrums, still an uneven clock A poor farmer lives a life of toil, in return, some beanstalk Fear of the old concern, alas, apple rust Yes, dry summer days are dry as dust. O youth, come together in a flock For a global tide, come together, build a peaceful bloc Plant a plant, a thousand times in pure trust Yes, dry summer days are dry as dust. ©️Khursheed Ahmad Wani Handwara, India Sizzling aroma The sweet smell of love is impassioned. Hearty fragrance burning vigorously; Bottled aromatic beats vociferously; Animated with a spirit of melodramatic fashion The sweet smell of love is impassioned. The chord of the melody bent on being fanatical; With the hidden tunes that make it enigmatical; Desired words danced on my lips of compassion The sweet smell of love is impassioned; Let the ungovernable excitement bounce Bonded with an elegance,without a flounce; Consuming a passional sway of attraction The sweet smell of love is impassioned. Contented soul shaded the emotions feverishly, Each tint of the feeling,mingling tirelessly; A rainbow of intense curve positioned The sweet smell of love is impassioned. Steamy words had an ardent touch Invading against the placid rush. Again,a fervent paradise aroused interaction When the sweet smell of love is impassioned!!! ©️Sonal Rao India echoes of death echoes of death spoken in words heavenly bodies drop in disgrace incredulous clot relating bad taste sought in gravity your orbit curves drawn within by what I just heard expressions lessen bleeding in space emotional comets erased with haste curtailing ember of inferno most lurid echoes of death spoken in words I love you once our hearts embraced that future of diamond trust encased now embalmed so wrongly interred echoes of death spoken in words I hate you pushed my pull to abate a meteor burning my soul serrate of every instinct I ever last learned echoes of death spoken in words whiskers of time shade my grave reconciliations pronounced too late forgiveness died as insult occurred echoes of death spoken in words dust to crust nailed alone in a crate oh, eternal void of never escape! drawn within by what I just heard echoes of death spoken in words ©️Matt Elmore USA SICK I am sometimes sick If I refuse to take pill Or fall from top of hill When beaten with a stick I am sometimes sick When I forget the will Or I misuse my dill When I fall in trick I am sometimes sick When taken to farm to till Or told wait until When somebody kicks I am sometimes sick When weather is not chill Or losing a bill When I can't my phone click I am sometimes sick When criminals kill Or government means nill When I end my wick I am sometimes sick © Abdulkadir M Ladan Nigeria A Modern Dansa Let us dance, a fleeting dream. Hearts aflame, a soulful scene Your eyes, twin stars in velvet night Ignite a passion, pure and bright Nature's symphony, mighty serene Hearts aflame, a soulful scene Let us dance, a fleeting dream born In this embrace, our souls are torn With every step, whispers seen Hearts aflame, a soulful scene We twirl and sway, a graceful flight Lost in moments, pure delight Your laughter, etched to my soul, queen Hearts aflame, a soulful scene Dispelling doubt, and every fear In this dance, we’re truly clingier Bound by love, eternally threne Hearts aflame, a soulful scene Let us dance, a fleeting dream Sunlight filters through the beams A moment frozen in time's schene Heart aflame, a soulful scene. © Sheila Ann. Malaysia

If all is well,ends well? He wasn’t her type It goes without saying,he was ill at ease! Thought she held her tongue,her vibes kept her posted! Compatibility was going from bad to worse! By the time she got to point,she was in hot water! Flew off the handle by finding faults with him! Situation had already gone to pieces! It was a cold blooded night in the long run! She didn’t give up her identity to someone Who wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box! Considering everything right now, Her frame of mind is getting a grip on itself; At a snail’s pace! ©️ Sonal Rao India To say it in a nutshell, poetry is the art of poetisizing, Short and sweet, concise, and certainly precise. Poetry my love, comes as a blessing in disguise, once in a blue moon, it blooms out of the blue! I never wish my verse to beat around the bush. Keep it straight and simple as you go with the flow. Tho, you feel stuck between a rock and a hard place, hang in there, for on the whole, it’s a new ball game! Poetry is a piece of work,born of nothing and nowhere. Need not burn the midnight oil nor bask under the sun. It’s a bolt from the blue when it rains, it downpours. It takes the ocean and the universe in its style and stride! It’s a mystery and mythical method to one’s madness, unwraps as you wrap your head around something! ©️ Laxman Rao Bangalore, India HIT THE SACK Once in a blue moon, call a spade a spade. Play your cards right, call it a day. Take a back seat, it’s always darkest before dawn; play by the ear; look before you leap and take a rain check. Every cloud has a silver lining; Don’t cry over spilt milk. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Draw the line, break a leg, give it a whirl, be in the fast lane; go the extra mile, snug as a bug in a rug. To bell the cat, go back to the drawing board. Hit the books, cut the chase. Blow off steam, read between the lines, shoot from the hip, Play your cards right, draw first blood, then hit the sack. ©️Kalucharan Sahu India Don’t Give Up When your life is in bad shape Having a monkey on your back That’s having problems you can’t solve And under clouds of doubt, don’t lose hope Be yourself to overcome Be out from clouds on the horizon Don’t give up, be tougher, never quit Bite the bullet to get over with And to weather the storm, stand strong Get help from your loved ones and friends For getting help, it’s not a rocket science Come rain or shine, they will be there for you ©️ Ency Bearis USA At the Eleventh Hour Idioms within the poem I find myself at the eleventh hour, Between a rock and a hard place, Where the sky is the limit, they say, But every cloud has a silver lining. The ball's in my court, so they tell me, But I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, And though the writing’s on the wall, I’m caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. Still, I keep my chin up, head above water, Hoping time heals all wounds, For when the chips are down, It’s not over till the fat lady sings. With the world as my oyster, I press on, Knowing it takes two to tango, But I won’t count my chickens before they hatch, For I know, every dog has its day. ©️ CONCETTA PIPIA USA Like bull in China Shop He entered in break neck speed and hit to rakes Some articles fell on ground at sixes and sevens The hair raising scene, he created. All buyers held their breath. Then he came to grinding halt And he laughed loudly and uttered It is First April, the Fool's Day I so celebrated this day in rush of dude show Then he paid the amount for damaged articles And he got lost. ©️ Shib Raj Pradhan India Bolt From The Blue I always thought I'd missed the love boat That ship had well and truly sailed... and then I saw you It was an amour fou... A bolt from the blue! Friends always advised me After each inevitable break up That there were "plenty more fish in the sea" but I was once bitten, twice shy There was never a fish just for me, Once in a blue moon love comes along and it's worth its weight in gold, Yet my heart grew cold... Until I saw you My bolt from the blue! At once you were the apple of my eye but I was so timid, so pathetically shy, and I wanted to talk to you ~ I got cold feet Why would you be interested in someone like me? It takes two to tango ~ so we would never meet, I dreamt that we could see eye to eye Together, two peas in a pod, For you were a bolt from the blue My soul cried out when I first saw you! It is always darkest before dawn and I worried someone would steal your heart, It was time to steal someone else's thunder I had to take the horse by the reins Else we'd be destined to remain apart, Now every day, come rain or shine I smile inside because I'm yours and you're mine, Through thick and thin I pledge my love to you My passion, my soulmate... My bolt from the blue! ©️ Rhiannon Owens, 2024 UK Idioms Do not turn around a Bush And try to give ears to your heart rough waters make good sailors And every end has a new start If you are really under my spell And cherish my company Dump your bucket into the well And see the beauty of love in me Your presence would take me to the seventh sky That's why dear I would fight tooth and nail believe in rosy lanes because tomorrow is another day Pure feelings are never sought on bail ©️ Sihem Cherif Tunisia

A Triptych of Poetry DREAM ENLIGHTENED From my deep sleep, I am awakened by a flash of light. The full moon shines through my windows, its luminance spilling across the floor, across my bed... I fall into deep sleep only to be awakened once more by a bright flash & that full moon... ESCAPING INTO THE BURNISHED DAWN Into this morning's grey twilight the warmth escapes from my shivering body in white breathy clouds Dense waves of starlings chatter from tree to tree silhouetted in shades of silver-green against the snowy-grey clouds Last week, awakened by your song I sat on the back steps in the burnished morning twilight warmed by the Indian summer & I escaped to a Mexican town plaza at this hour, watching your flight from tree to golden-green tree across the lightening dawn SHIFTING WINDS The southern horizon of this equatorial colonial city is today greyed by ash drifting from Tungurahua the air smells acrid & stings But an afternoon rain - that rain of most afternoons - washes the air clean the shifting winds carrying the burnt earth far to the jungle Wandering troubador, Lorraine Caputo, is a documentary poet, translator and travel writer. Her works appear in over 500 journals on six continents; and 24 collections of poetry - including, 'In the Jaguar Valley' (dancing girl press, 2023) and 'Santa Marta Ayres' (Origami Poems Project, 2024). She also authors travel narratives, articles and guidebooks. Her writing has been honored by the Parliamentary Poet Laureate of Canada (2011), and nominated for the 'Best of the Net' and 'Pushcart Prize.' Caputo has done literary readings from Alaska to the Patagonia. She journeys through Latin America with her faithful knapsack Rocinante, listening to the voices of the pueblos and Earth. Follow her travels at: Facebook or Latin America Wanderer Instagram

I heard through the grapevine about a bad apple named John He looked as cool as cucumber though he had ants in his pants His life was a bowl of cherries He slept on a bed of roses Yet behind this scenic curtain a can of worms he opened often his cup of tea in the morning…. But then someone spilled the beans how he was all bark and no bite There was this story when he barked on the wrong tree Without putting his brakes on He blew his top, and hit the roof Completely going bananas until he was blue in the face And when he came home to roost planning to hit the hay He kicked the bucket suddenly. © Myrtle Eve Philippines 08-27-24

Featuring the collaborative work of 4 poets. "FOGDOG" Dear, I would like to tell you a dream I dreamt, awesome Oneiric I, a girl cured from Atticism In kip, also I was mesmerized by her pirouette, like a ballet dancer In the misty journey of Atticism her oeuvre was like a fog dog Dear! Let's appreciate their wonderful seadog! © Subhashchandra Adhav India *** Dear, the seadog's skill to read the fogdog is admirable For it enabled you in kip to view the ballerina's pirouette As well as experience her Atticism praiseworthy in the songs she sang An angel she, as doubly blessed with a complete oeuvre You too, blessed to view in oneiric this divine sight Dear, that seadog should be appreciated who steered your dream to light © SUNITA GROVER RAINA India "A POETIC VIEW OF NATURE" Nature, my friend, is a source of imagination for any artist's oeuvre, filling everyone with a flood of emotions She's expressed in a swan's pirouette during the spectacular show on clear waters of the lake being admired by men and beasts alike She's the Atticism in every poet's humble verse on pages of the writer's novel, especially when they describe her divine beauty. Although she may appear as a fogdog in the real world During certain seasons when we least expect it, she appears even during our kip as a powerful goddess blessing us with an oneiric story filled with excitement that we will write when we'll wake up. *** The virgin ground untanned like kip's innocent pirouette whirling to the oneiric euphoria of the broad day fantasy Nature natured in the maiden Cupid, a suavely impeccable Aphrodite that comforts Adam from time to its end, paradise, the terra surface for the survival of all. Together, let's till the flowered land and write our earth's serenade on the veranda of terra verde A season's song that echoes earth's lullaby and scape our unbiased ouevre, a common page for all creatures. Call all, that's unscientifically affected to tryst in the cozy of Amazon, and be snapped with the fogdog of the sun, our bond and atticism to our form which every natural being enjoys the free offers of the virgin ground, when deflowered by the impact of its inhabitants and we peep through the fog of Eden to see the sky. Nature is the form we commonly share without any prejudice no one complains over one's portion The fold, where true humanity exists. © GHEORGHE LAURA (Romania) © IKWULONO MOHAMMED SENISON (Nigeria)

THE ROSETTE OF DREAMS I walked the world of dreams through the tunnel of night; As I went deeper and farther, I looked back with fright At the melting roads, following me in my stead, slowly But irreverently, stalking each of my movement, imperceptibly Midway of my journey, I lost the direction, moving aimlessly As the road turned into rippling waves of desire, tirelessly. Seasons fell like leaves in winter - - grew and ripened relentlessly, Squeezing my dreams with mulch and greenery, alternately. I was not alone on the dream tunnel, there were others, starters and finishers, Hopping, jumping, and some swimming, in the churning waters With moon in their eyes, and the harsh sun twirling like a georgette, Knitting hopes and fears, in one unconscionable lace of rosette. Wounded and winded, I don't know when this dream became a solvent Dissolving me in its heady concoction, leaving me a creature evanescent. © KALUCHARAN SAHU India

Peace Now, More Than Ever Squandering time in cerebral circles debating the subtleties that mystify Like Talmudic scholars, with flowing beards and forelocks, they pour our laws and loopholes to justify their actions and far worse - their inaction They are charged with ending the violence to find a way to restructure our world for non-violence to end the quaking, shaking and fearsome changes each new day delivers to fully embrace beliefs that once drove our ancestors to seek refuge and individual freedoms Between scholars who whisper their questions so softly only God hears their pleas, and vigilant soldiers following orders to burn, maim, assault and erase any semblance of those who fight back We need peace in remote villages in our cities, cooler heads must prevail New lessons must be learned and passed on what we value now must change If we are to pass on this planet to our children's children with confidence of its survival, education, faith and a world-wide commitment to non-violence must begin today. Finding My Dad...Again For a long time, the only images I carried of my dad were from his last weeks, days, hours, minutes, our hands clasped three, two, one...I love you Daddy He could not have weighed more than one hundred pounds jaundiced, chemo-ravaged, wounded I begged God to free him from this prison of relentless suffering Decades later, now an adult with my own family and a son who carries dad's name I came across boxes filled with pictures, telegrams, letters, even the messages on floral delivery cards It was all there, daring me to peek, scavenge, even revel, in the contents of the treasure trove buried within There was my dad wearing a "kiss the cook" apron folding Mom's homemade strawberry jam into each imperfect omelette dusting them with confectionery sugar while mugging for Mom's brownie camera Forever capturing those one-in-a-million milestone moments There was my dad shepherding our young family around Disneyland kneeling beside a creek bed where we learned to pan for gold There was my Dad lacing our skis at a winter resort three kids under seven thirty minutes later, the bunny slopes were but a frost-bitten memory There was my Dad freeing our soggy feet while Mom, God bless her, passed hot chocolate and thermal socks In a million milestone moments in boxes that had seen better days I found my Dad...again © Jill Sharon Kimmelman Jill Sharon Kimmelman is a two-time Pushcart Prize-nominee in Poetry, 2017 & 2021, and "Best of the Net" 2018. Her international publishing credits include Vita Brevis Press, Spillwords Press, Fine Lines, Better Than Starbucks Poetry & Fiction Journal, Poetic Musings, The Poet Magazine, ILA Magazine, Prolific Pulse Press, World Inkers Network, Garden of Neuro, Writing In A Woman's Voice, PLCS, Eric Publications, Writing On The Wall Global Magazine and Prolific Pulse Press, LLC. Jill's first book, "You Are The Poem", was released in November 2021. The ebook and iBook version was released in April 2022. Jill's poetry has appeared in more than 50 international literary publications. Her second book is planned for 2025. She lives in Delaware, USA with her husband, Tim Little. Jill is a proud mother of her son, Jordan Lawrence Halpern. The image above, is a disco-style frame taken in 1978, from Jill's debut book "You Are The Poem", released in paperback in 2021. Jill mentions the occasion was her beloved grandmother's surprise 60th birthday celebration. Jill has given ILA Magazine permission to feature with her poems.

A Quartet of Poets ENIGMA Dream away like the moonbeams creeping out In the mazed network of bewildered mind Intricately zooming amidst the penumbra Flashing, dimming, like a vague outline of shadows Transfixed, piercing through the myriads of hues As if in a ruptured trance, a dream, a parody Slowly fading away in the fleeting purple wilderness. © GUS PEREZ AMIO Philippines SEPIA SOLITUDE'S STRENGTH In shades of sepia, my identity is drawn, A solitary figure, amid a sea of faces, Lost in the labyrinth of societal norms, Echoes of ancestors whisper in the wind's embraces. Alone, yet tethered to a heritage unseen, Through solitude's lens, I find my strength refined, A brown silhouette against the backdrop of time. © CONCETTA PIPIA USA A PLEA AT DUSK TIME Could you wait for me at dusk? Do not forget the candle for it starts to get dark And bring with you the perfume of violets This morning I poured all my fragrant zeal And if you kept saying what do I need more I say: "A kite to fly, a paper boat to go away And some lyrics of my last verse......" © SIHEM CHERIF Tunisia Once again, in the reckless secret sea port of words An old ship has crashed in an unequivocal storm Its mast now broken submerging in many love poems In the chiaroscuro of many shared dreams and stranger times. Time and birds take a sudden flight merging into memories A dusk melts into a haze of dark shadows, trapping the footprints A stranger kissed you once in the mist of many aromas and rain lost nights. © AMITABH MITRA South Africa

You are still small, but your strength is great, you know. Eyes so blue as the sea and a beautiful glow little lionesses of life, you are exactly what true beauty means. You are the light of my life, more beautiful than the sky, just go boldly and always to new victories. You are everything visible, my little girl, that even small beings can overcome the most difficult things. While your blue hair gently flutters, surrounded by the sea, little soul, your beautiful face illuminates everything and because of you, the light of my world does not disappear. Your smile is my entire life your happiness is everything to me and remember just one thing, you are my unique treasure! If at times, you find life difficult, you will always have my love and I will be there for you as long as my heartbeat doesn't betray Little lionness, you can achieve anything because you are mom's fighter who doesn't give up! © DANIJELA ĆUK

Moments spent in solitude and reflection, Enshrined in golden memories that are uniquely mine. Engaging in light banter, exchanging glances over trivialities. A tug-of-war to grasp and conceal, The anticipation of meeting with someone or being met. Yearning and longing, the desire to be near, the playful act of feigning indifference. Giving precedence to others while leaving me solitary. Laughter intertwined with fleeting moments of disdain. Nights longing for the dawn of a new day, Pretending nonchalance while eagerly awaiting a visit Meeting for no purpose other than the desire to connect. An intense longing for someone's presence, An irresistible hankering for companionship, All of this floods back when someone appears, Inwardly, within the corridors of my memories. © SAJID HUSSAIN Pakistan ** Dr. Sajid Hussain , born on February 1, 1969, in Morgah, Rawalpindi, Pakistan, is a distinguished poet, educator, and advocate for literature. He holds memberships in global literary organizations and h as received numerous accolades, including the Shahitya Pata Award and the Rabindranath Tagore Memorial Literary Honours. He has authored acclaimed works and contributed to international anthologies. A senior Chemistry teacher and Master Trainer in "Low Cost and No Cost Science Material," Dr. Hussain is also a homeopathic doctor and former principal. His poetry, often focused on humanity and nature, is widely published and translated. Dr. Hussain is a committed adovcate for global understanding, cultural exchange, and social justice, using his platform to inspire positive change and foster dialogue. Dr. Sajid Hussain is the author of several acclaimed books and has co-authored numerous international anthologies. His notable works include: 1. Acquits of Life 2. Parlance 3. Cloud Nine Fantasia 4. Oceanic Upwelling 5. Waves and Rays of Life He has contributed to, and co-authored various international anthologies, including: 1. Flowers of Love 2. Arabian Nights 3. Poets for Peace 4. The Candles of Hope 5. Poetry Collection 6. Poetry for Ukraine 7. The Silk Road Literature 8. Ancient Egyptians Modern Poets 9. Mediterranean Waves 10. Peace andn Love Make Society 11. Rhapsodies 12. Dandelions: Multiverse of Poets Additionally, he compiled Pakistani English Poets Prodigy, which was published in the USA. Dr. Hussain's books and anthologies cover themes such as love, peace, resilience, and the human condition. His works are known for their profound empathy and eloquence, reflecting a deep understanding of the human experience. His poetry has been featured in prominent international magazines and websites, and he has penned over 1,400 poems, published in more than 200 world anthologies and magazines, translated into several major languages.

Review of Peshawa Kakayi's poem, "Universe and Man as a Formula" by Marie J. Mond Translator: Goran Sabah Peshawa Kakayi, known for his dynamic writing style, recently published "Universe and Man as a Formula" in ILA Magazine, from the 2019 Kurdish book, Cosmology. The poem reaches the imagination of the reader, making the reader feel like a spectator and co-creator of the universe. From the beginning of time to the pinnacle of evolution, humanity has a choice to use matter to create its own world or accept the universal design. Kakayi examines creation, the riddle behind it, and what it means for the future. Kakayi's use of personification animates his writing. Humanity referred to as "man" converses with "science" pondering its role as one who modifies nature or adapts to it. The "big bang" is explored with nuclei that think and speak of a time before light was formed. The reader is brought back to the darkness through the big bang, the formation of stars, clusters and life on Earth. In this poem, humanity is being questioned because it shows signs of depression. Kakayi writes, "Man goes into universe/ Wants to say I exist no more..." Humanity sees nature in the form of atoms to use for its own purposes apart from its natural design. The role of destroyer is taken on by humanity. It looks at phenomena without examining the cause. Kakayi expresses, "I examine not me but the big bang." Only when humanity embraces light does it co-create without harming the natural world. Kakayi brings up wine and drunkenness as part of the healing process. Culturally, wine helps humanity forget the darkness and seek the interaction with others. Here, love fits into the equation with the potential to be divine and intentional. Peshawa Kakayi's poem, "Universe and Man as a Formula", is rich with unforgettable themes. The dilemma facing humanity is addressed by exploring the unvierse. Humanity has two ways of being a co-creator. Will humanity heal itself and make the right choice? Either way, Kakayi's poem, imbued with the undying and universal drive to create, is a must read for poetry lovers world-wide. © Marie J. Mond 07.25.24

Review of Paul Barnard's poem, "Didn't Expect This" August 3, 2024 " DIDN'T EXPECT THIS" I know...your bones mean well chartering undertones...that don't sell well But, it's characterizing your hype as most stressingly, unwell. Shouldering that extracting, what lays piping your organical mind Births as panicky amusements distracting a serious rhyme whilst wasting tickings precisely picking up your kickings, lagging chimes Whereby, alike every stowaway's share humping along a friendship line your wear of unconscious cares don't see baffled seas saddling grapplings rippling wrangles sapping our graphic dams Awhile your flooded causings, watering attributes, pausing our pans convincingly dampened to own what lies in argumentative storms of which whether your fronts will weather Atchoo...oh you handed me a cold Look, pal for your character to truly climatically sell I think I gotta paddle back home and re-float your bib that braces your attitudes tone Grr...darn modus operandi humans © PAUL BARNARD South Africa Editor's Review: The poet delves into the intricate realm of human emotions and the internal struggles that accompany them, employing vivid imagery and poignant tones depicting complexities of character and the burdens of emotional turmoil. Paul's poem is structured as a series of thought-provoking verses, delving deeper into a landscape of emotion, evocative language such as "chartering undertones", "shouldering extraction" and "rippling wrangles", adds even more depth to the emotional poetic narrative. The poem explores conflict between one's outward persona and inner struggles, portraying a sense of emotional discord as well as touching on the nuances of interpersonal relationships and the unconscious burdens individuals carry with friendship. "Didn't Expect This" delves into emotions, like stress, panic and confusion, effectively conveying the weight of feelings through metaphorical language. "DIDN'T EXPECT THIS" is quite the intense exploration of human emotion, characterized by rich language and depth along with portrayal of internal struggles and interpersonal dynamics and the compelling reflection on the complexities of human character and emotional resilience. Annette Nasser EIC ILA Magazine USA