Some call out of duty, others out of love, In acts of kindness, hearts intertwine, With each tender gesture, we rise above. Some call out of duty, others out of love. Through storms and silence, a gentle shove, In the dance of connection, spirits align. Some call out of duty, others out of love, In acts of kindness hearts intertwine. © LIBERTY BASSEY Nigeria

You become another filtered beam of moonlight Weaving your way through scattered tree trunks Stepping over rocks, tiny rivulets of cold streams You are the night, the starlight and cooling breeze Invisible to all but the most attuned, watchers of Everything natural, observant of movement, night Like the ghostly deer, cougar or fox, low-flying owl Eyes reflecting long, low, slow, throaty purr/growl Midnight personified, insomniac wandering wide Because I am concerned for you, should you lose Your way or turn your ankle, I follow close behind Quietly, so not to startle, you don't know I'm there But in the morn, by sunlight, fog and drops of dew You will see an extra set of footsteps, trailing you. © SHIRLEY ROSE U.S.

Mourn not the death of Buddha; though there were those who saw him die, laid him among the purest flowers; for the lotus does not lie. And even the gaudy peacock stood in mute humility; Overshadowed in all of his color, by spiritual love and true beauty. Mourn not the death of Buddha, though the moon saw a body there, Quietened even it's soft light to veil the presence rare. Yet there is no sadness within the hearts of men. As the wise love of Buddha lives on now as it did then. Mourn not the death of Buddha nor his beauty which took form But love him as we love ourselves for there is no loss to mourn. Be glorified in his wisdom which in our hearts does still evoke. True understanding of existence and of that which love bespoke. © Dennis Pennefeather New Zealand

MAY 2025 ILA Magazine "EDITOR'S CHOICE" The road to any dream is never easy but every small step, every quiet struggle and every choice to continue matters. This is for all who have walked that path and for those still walking it. ***** "HE WALKED ANYWAY" He never had money for snacks. Sometimes not even for lunch. His stomach learned silence before he learned algebra. He walked - long roads, cracked shoes, sun in his face, rain on his back. Sometimes barefoot, sometimes blistered but always moving. He was always left behind - in paying tuition fees, in field trips and school nights, in the fun he couldn't afford. Promissory notes kept him enrolled, hope kept him going. They called him a loser. They called him slow. They laughed when he failed again. He laughed too, just to survive the sound of it. At night, he worked. Washed dishes, sold balut on dim-lit corners, rose before dawn to peddle pandesal while the city still slept. He scrubbed the tired off day for a few coins and a little rice. He was always behind. Always the one who didn't get picked. Always the one with excuses that were actually reasons. But he showed up. Every damn day. With eyes that refused to close and hands that wouldn't let go of books that barely made sense but made him feel something other than stuck. He failed again and again. But something inside him kept whispering: Some battles are won by just taking a small step forward. And so he stayed - in the fight, in the hunger, in the walking, the working, the losing. Until one day - they called his name. He stood on a stage with a secondhand shirt and a trembling smile. They clapped. Not knowing that every step he took was a war. And finally, he won! © Jeffrey Cejero We say, "You are what you eat!" Well, I eat sunlight...and wrote this to say, "I am light poetically and scientifically." "TO BE LIGHT" I am light, not just in metaphor, not just in myth but also in blood, in bone, in breath. Born of sunlight, ancient fire filtered through leaves, through grain, through skin. The food I eat is yesterday's radiance, stored in root and fruit, harvested into muscle, memory, and me. I do not just eat light. I become it and they say, "You are what you eat!" I am the echo of a star, a flare from billions of years ago, a beam slowed into matter, into thought, into touch, into love. Einstein said, "E=mc2" and what he meant was, I am energy, not merely alive, but overflowing. Enough to flatten mountains but I won't because I'd rather leave a gentler mark, my name remembered in the sky. They say we are stardust but that dust once burned. It raged bright in the black, lived as a furnace, roared across aeons, before falling silent. And now, here I stand, the same fire with a voice. So I will not fold into shadow. I will not cradle the cold. Darkness is not my dominion. Loneliness is not the air I breathe. Regret is not my gravity. I was built to blaze, to split night with kindness, to fracture sorrow with my presence. Light gives life, paints color into being, brings rainbows, lets stars be seen. It makes us visible, valued not forgotten. This is light and so am I! © JEFFREY CEJERO Philippines

My mother died. Time went by after you left. I am alive and bound to fate. Now I write you in the quiet, where guilt and gratitude entwine. I am hurt by the way things have ended. Her gold necklace in my nightstand drawer, Her sweet voice in my ears. I miss you. I cry silently.

Pale moon in a cold blue sky Morning sun ascends On its way to a shallow meridian. Slick blacktop wet avenue Wisps of steam rise A gift to the autumnal queen Ushering winter in. Grass so green in the plump soft earth Galaxies of daisies, dandelion and buttercup Gold and white for the sun and the moon Under a pale blue sky. An autumnal parade Dragging out the night Limiting the hours of the sun We march toward the solstice lull The seasons tide is running low. © PETER RIMMER New Zealand ***** Peter Rimmer is a performance poet from Auckland, New Zealand. He is involved in Auckland's word-core scene where musicians and poets collaborate to create shows and events. He has been published in journals and anthologies in NZ, Ireland, Wales, the U.S., Indonesia and Bulgaria.

Each time I reached for wildflowers by the abyssal brink, They drowned beneath the tales that pebbles fail to think. Desires took flight, breaking banks on either side - Even crafted verses faded, with no hue left to hide. Inside my chest, sorrow weeps beneath a sunless flame, Raindrops vanish quietly on blossoms without a name. Like a silent whistle buried deep in frozen air, The sky of dark awakens as stars begin to stare. On Bakhtiyar's horse, the whip of cruelty swings - Blood sprawls on green grass - what epitaph this brings? In the museum of the world, echoes only cruelty's cry, While trampled men mourn rights that wither, fade, and die. Is this then history? Of man? Of civilization's call? Serpents rise with hissing fangs - splitting lanterns fall. © ALAM MAHBUB Bangladesh

"A TALE OF FRIENDSHIP IN THE FOREST" In the heart of the rainforest, two high-spirited friends, Chirag and Gulab, embarked on an adventure, exploring the woods' secrets...playing hide and seek, teasing and bantering as they gasped in awe at the beauty of hanging orchids in various nuances, marveled at the variegated emerald greens and listened to songbirds, watching them hop from one branch to another in century - aged trees. Chriag, now and then cautioned Gulab not to point fingers at the things she saw. But as the sun began to set, they realized they were lost. Fear crept in, yet they stood strong, holding each other's hand. As shadows fell, a gentle voice whispered through the trees. Aranyani, the goddess of the forest, had been watching them. Moved by their friendship and loyalty, she decided to test their bond. Aranyani summoned Vayu, the god of wind, and Indra, the king of the gods, to unleash their fury upon the forest. The winds howled, and thunder boomed, tearing Chriag and Gulab apart. As the storm subsided, Chriag's heart ached for Gulab. He searched the forest, calling out for his dear friend. But there was only silence. Meanwhile, Gulab, though injured and in tears, held on to the hope of reuniting with Chirag. Both were tired, exhausted, but they held on to their gut feelings that they would soon find each other. Moved by their unwavering devotion, Aranyani intervened. She wanted the two friends to stay in her forest and never to part. With a gentle touch, she transformed Chriag into a majestic sandalwood tree, strong and steadfast and Gulab into a radiant rose, blooming near him, her beauty and fragrance captivating all. Bharak, the sun, impressed too, with their friendship, stretched his bright rays to reach Gulab so that her splendid color would never fade. The Sandalwood tree's calming fragrance blended harmoniously with the rose's sweet scent, creating a captivating aroma that filled the forest. The tree's presence soothed the rose's passionate heart, while the rose's fragrant beauty brought joy to the tree's gentle soul. Today, passers-by are amazed by the sandalwood's canopy, sheltering the fragile petals of the rose. Lovers feel the unique ambience whenever they reach that part in the forest. They feel love and peace permeating in their hearts, as if they were in a holy ground. Together, the sandalwood and the rose thrive, a testament to the power of friendship and loyalty. Aranyani's blessing has brought harmony to the forest, as Chirag and Gulab's strong bond has become a legend, inspiring generations after generations. Notation: I would like to express my respect and a word of gratitude to esteemed international poet and critic, Mr. Chandan Bhattacharya, for his influence on me in injecting mythological allusions to both prose and poetry. My tale is also dedicated to the friends who have been loyal to each other through the years. © Fe Rosario V. Maximo Philippines

(Healing with the golden ratio) Regenerate outs when today's trend is to jump in reckless dives of banality numbered piney cones funneling words of medicine when in walks doctor poetry marking charts where graceful golden ratios begin Flowering fruitful blossoms multiply and divide chemicals equating healing words in doses dictate therapy; love rectify mercies betraying deep feeling doctors fear modern medicine here can not supply as sad syllabled intervals patient. patients hid sweeten treatments potent poetry doctors now give that love of life may long yet live. © MATT ELMORE U.S.

When kings are clouded by stormy pride, And peace is pushed and cast aside, They march to war, both sure they're right, But truth gets lost in the blinding fight. A single spark - misused and small - Can cause great empires' rise to fall. The lands were tense, the hearts were loud, Yet peace was drowned beneath the crowd. When war is signed with royal grace, The people lose their quiet place. And those who question, mocked with scorn, Are wise enough to see the storm. But after smoke fades in the sky, And broken hearts no longer cry, The world can heal, if minds grow clear, And plant the seeds of peace from fear. For light still shines were truth is told - A wiser world, not bought with gold. So let us rise, not fight for fame, But guard the peace in every name. © SAIB AEJAZ Anantnag, India. Saib Aejaz, a student of Tesla, Radiant higher secondary school in Anantnag, is a talented gem, a motivational speaker and prolific writer. His areas of interest include geo-politics of the world and humanitarianism. An ardent physics lover and aspiring doctor, Saib has excelled in all life spheres of his youth. Saib's poem is represented and sent in care of his scholarly instructor, Mr. Asif Ahmad.

© Image courtesy of Kristy Raines "What is Love?" Love is everything good and true in life, and what enhances every living thing. Love is hearing the first cry of a child after birth. Love is the reason that child was born. Love is the deepest emotion created, besides hate, and the thin line that divides them. But love will always win. Love, from the deepest part of your being, is the most beautiful look you can give another person without speaking. It is in every joyful or heart touching moment. Love is in every gentle touch that comes from the heart and in every whisper that you only want that special person to hear. Love is the greatest gift given to anyone and the greatest gift received. Love is also the sigh that comes naturally when you are with a special someone. Love is hard work at times but so worth the paycheck it gives you. Love is watching how a child interacts so innocently with another. It's also the feeling you get when a child hugs you so tight. Love is something that can either make you or break you. It can make you the happiest and also can cause you the most sadness if taken from you. Love is the purest thing ever given to us...We can accept it or reject it, but it still remains...We decide whether to hold onto it or let it go. But without love, a life cannot thrive. Love causes the goosebumps or the lump in your throat when you hear a certain song. Love is the stream of tears that run down your face when you are touched by something you see or hear that you can't express in words. Love is the strongest feeling you can ever experience and give to someone or something. And Love is the center of my being, something that I want everyone to feel. Because if everyone can feel how I feel when I give love, they will want to share that feeling with everyone, too. Love is God and God is Love. What greater love is there than that? It was His greatest commandment. The best line I've ever read was written from my 7 year old granddaughter when she was 5. She said to her Mommy, "I love love, because love just feels so good!" And that's saying a lot. © KRISTY RAINES U.S .

"Sometimes, things fall apart so that they can be put back together better than before." © TANMAY KUMAR DUBEY India