In the realm of the elopement I have sailed beyond boundaries. A divide I have crossed Beyond man's judgement of creed and color Indoctrinated have I become Of her then be told of a color As humans we were made With a heart that ticks our pulse Far, far aways she is, And there I have gone in elopement Leaving behind a color like mine, To embrace a bond destined A Voyager I have traversed Upon turbulent waves on sail Days counted and months over In eagerness of the whiff of her muskiness A suffocating sweetness To sleeps of a several bout of spells A fiery angel she is In the Eldorado of our world Cherubs and Seraphs all around Trumpeting a glorious union = Where distance and color is abrogated In the symbolic semblance of humanity And on the turbulent surf seas of our love Have we traversed to the plain end In the harmony of a blissful buoying Have we buoyed the bloom of our bond from bondage Together in this blissful nuptial Is disparity distant as abrogated. © Kichime Philips Elisha

There is nothing quite like that moment when you're walking through the park and happen upon a spot where a group of goats are chewing the cud in a nearby field. If the one o'clock sun is shining down in all its glory to help mitigate the fact of a frigid autumn temperature, well, all the better still. And, by Elohim (along with every minor deity currently weaving magic through the cosmos), if you happen to be slowly savoring the day's first cigarette right then and there, well, dadgum, shoot, and gee willikers, you just done gone 'n felt a little slice of heaven sliver with a shiver up and down your spine. We call that the real Holyfield around these parts. It's holy trifecta gold when the kundalini buzz triangulates inside a brain. Fractal pattern shift their shape, manifesting kaleidoscopic prisms out of thin air. Angelic angles align, finding perfect cohesion at the core. Geometric sanctification results in absolution as attunement is achieved at the highest vibration. Rhythmic wings gently guide the frequency of ascension into orbit. Fractions of quantum mechanical blueprints temporarily become apparent, only to drift away like dust in the wind as ideas get flighty and mathematical equations disperse with an exponential quickness. This is all just a way of saying something without really saying anything at all. Other than the fact that two hawks are circling in the sky above as countless cars drive beneath them, single file, along a straight road to nowhere. Nature is wiggly. But traffic rules and regulations are hard as a rock. Just like some of the stoned heads that banged themselves together to come up with this red tape, bureaucratic, penalty-laden, pyramid system scam. Trying to turn earth into a purgatory prison. Bread and water for inmates. Vaccine cocktails for the specimens. Methods of transaction need to fundamentally shift. No one is satisfied with eating cake forever. Where's the blood? Where's the wine? Where's the rose? Where's the sign? Where's the sweet tooth junkie going to run? Where's the raw vegan guru going to hide? Where's the GMO? Where's the healthcare scare? Where are the doctors going to sleep? Where are the homeless going to freeze? Where're the birds? Where're the bees? Where's the honey? Where's the sting? Where's the bandage for this wound? Where's the future of toxic plumes? Where's the poison? Where's the doom? Where's the virus? Where's the gloom? Good Lord! Sweet Jesus! Where were you raised, boy? In a barn? Didn't you ever learn not to leave the door of your psyche wide open? Weren't you ever taught the power of snake medicine? Didn't the shaman slam down all. his wu wu, voodoo knowledge on your head at birth? Didn't you receive the source download when you were snatched from star sleep and spit out the mortal womb? Didn't you suck a thumb soaked in vodka while cutting your incisors? Didn't you decide to dance to the sound of madness before you ever even crawled? Didn't. you scrawl hieroglyphics on cave walls back when you were just yay tall? Didn't you scowl in the face of lions and hunt your way to the top of the heap? Didn't you take the hit of garden evolution from the jungle plant? Didn't you leap with faith from one plateau to another? Didn't you grow from seed? Won't you return to soil? Aren't you just like all the rest? Isn't this whole illusion cut from the same cloth? Didn't we divide from the original Oneness when the dualistic ego got the bright idea to trip the light fantastic? Now the Milky Way is a paradise of melted cotton candy floating along the river of Tao. Now it's time to switch off the power, cut the cords, close the blinds, pull the curtains, and fall silent. Now it's time to scream once more before completely shutting up. Now it's time to burn out righteously so we can rise again. Now it's time for an electric encore. Now it's time for a thrilling sequel. Now it's time for absolution through enlightenment. Now it's time to slay all dragons. Now it's time to reawaken. Now it's time to cast off dark shadows, shun the wickedness of evil in this world, and reclaim the sovereign birthright of humanity's unlimited spiritual potential. Now it's time for a new epoch of true freedom! So get after it, kids. I'll just be over here staring at some goats near the pearly gates of Evermore. © Scott Thomas Outlar Scott Thomas Outlar lives and writes in the suburbs outside of Atlanta, Georgia. His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. He guest-edited the Hope Anthology of Poetry from Culture Cult Press as well as the 2019, 2020, and 2021 Western Voices editions of Setu Mag. He has been a weekly contributor at Dissident Voice for the past seven years. More than 2,000 of his poems have been published in literary venues around the world. Selections of his poetry have been translated into Afrikaans, Albanian, Azerbaijani, Bengali, Dutch, French, Hindu, Italian, Kurdish, Malayalam, Persian, Serbian, and Spanish. His Seventh Book, Evermore, was written along with coauthor Mihaela Melnic and released in 2021. More about Outlar's work can be found at 17Numa.com and he has a YouTube Channel as well.

دعيني أضمُّ جسدي لأتذكر كيف انصرفنا خلف جدار و ضمَّ أحدنا الآخر، لم يكن الظلام بارداً لكن الروح قد نضجت خلال ما كنا ندلق ألسنتنا في الأكواب. دعيني أقول شيئاً لأنبه نفسي تحت ضياء القناديل أنك مرئية في مكان ما. دعيني أعيش وراء منزلي مصغياً لعل ذلك لا يجعلني حزيناً و مُلاماً على ما لم أقمْ به الحب هو الحب أينما كان دعي البذرة تلمعُ و النبتة تنكسر الفستان ينكفئ باستمرار نحو الداخل و إذا كانت لك إحدى عشرة شفة دعي الشفة الثانية عشرة تصبح عيناً ! ♤ أحببتك عبر الأيام التي لا تصلح لغرام ما كان وجهي يرتجُ بالضحك و سعادتي لا تخفى. قلت إنني سعيد فعنفني المواطنون إذ كان بلدي جريحاً. أنني أكتب صامتاً لقد تعلمتُ أخيراً أن أتدفق من ثياب الأيام ، أن أحب البشر لمواساتهم و أحبكِ للذكرى! ♤ إنها الساعة الثالثة و خمس دقائق و عند قراءة ذلك ستكون الرابعة أو الثامنة و بعد عشرة أعوام لن يكون ثمة من يرغب بالتسلل لمعرفة الوقت . الحياة أحياناً تتسع عبر الجراح و أحياناً تبدو خاطفة لمن يعبرون الجسور و مع ذلك أنها ليس الحياة الأحب بالنسبة لي إلا لأني سأتلوى لأراكِ ثانيةً سنصنع طريقاً لكي نسهر وحيث نفرح حذراً من حسد الآخرين ينبغي أن نتوارى كشموع الميلاد ! ♤ ما الذي حلَّ بنا ؟ ننأى مسافة عشرين متراً لنرى أذرعتنا متعانقة بالهواء . نجهش بالبكاء لنجرَّ الكلمات الصادقة كالدرجات الهوائية بخمول و إيذاء . ما الذي حلّ بنا ؟ إننا جهنميون و عابرون تأريخيون كالأكداس و شاحبون كأشعة أقمار شبه مغادرة و إثر كل قصة حب نفشل بالعثور على الذي لا يوجد فينا ! ♤ لا أحد يفكر كيف سيبني بيته الأشياء تلتئمُ عن طريق الصدفة، البشر كذلك حتى هؤلاء الذين نلقي اللوم عليهم بعضهم يولدون حجراً مرة واحدة ليصيروا بيوتاً إلى الأبد ! ♤ عذّبنا كل شيء باللغة السمو و قطع شارع قصير، الحرب الطفولية و السكوت العذب كإشارة . الغرائز التي تلتهب كالسجائر ثمّ تداس كالأعقاب . دموع تلو دموع كانت تلك التي نسميها اللغة الأم تهرم بوحشية ، كانت ملابسنا تضيق على أجسادنا و قصائدنا أيضاً ! ♤ كوني أُماً لطفليك الصغيرين ، طفلة لأحد الرجال وليكن ودوداً مثلي و وحشياً إذ يزول سريعاً ليخفي ظهره . لا أعني الحب لا أعني الموتى أو الأحياء أنني غير مبالٍ بكرامات الأولياء أو بشجن العشاق على مر التاريخ من أجل المجيء أو المغادرة كم أحب وظيفة هؤلاء الذين يدقون الأجراس! ♤ في هدأة هذه الليل عرفتُ كم كنتُ متحجراً وأنا أحبك، كم كنت خجولاً و جباناً ولا تفسير لذلك. أنني أتأسف لما بدر مني أريد أن أقعدُ على ركبتي الآن لأحبك كما تمتلئ الحياة بالحصى، أنحني كالرمح لأبدو طيباً. أريد أن أختارك حيث تغص الأديرة إلهاً للغرباء ! ♤ بما أنني أتمشى وحيداً فلماذا لا أحبك عبر الخرائب التي أرى؟ عبر ما يحترق وما ينطفئ في النجوم ؟ عبر ما بقي لدى البشر من مدنهم وما غادروه لأجيال لاحقة ؟. بما أنني أقف فلم لا يكون كل شيء لعبة لم لا نغمض أعيننا مع الموت ليختبئ ثم يغمض عينيه عندما يأتي دوره لنموت ! عامر الطيب Amer Al-Tayeb is an Iraqi poet, born in 1990 in the city of Essaouira/Wasit. He is a member of the General Union of Writers and Writers in Iraq. He released his first set ('More than One Finger Death'), about the Egyptian General Book Authority. His second book, ('Standing Alone as Two Trees'), won the literary competition of the General Union of Writers and Writers in Iraq for the year 2018 and for writers under the age of 35. His third collection was published in Tunisia by Dar Al-Aminah for Publishing and Distribution, and its title was 'Green Blood Cells.' As for his fourth collection, it was entitled 'The Rest in Another Person's Life' and was published by Khatwat Wa Zilal Publishing and Distribution House in Jordan. Amer Al-Tayeb has other collections, too: 'Not Only for Change Tzu', about the Returnees House; 'Past Deeds Forever', on the authority of the Egyptian General Book Organization; 'A Distant Sky Like an Open Grave', from Dar Al-Nahda. His texts have been published in most of the local and Arab newspapers, and some of them have been translated into English, French, Spanish, Kurdish and Persian, as well. Below, English translation of Amer Al-Tayeb's poetry: Let me hug my body to remember How did we go behind a wall And hug each other? The darkness wasn't cold But the soul ripened through what we poured our tongues Into the cups. Let me say something To alert myself Under the shine of the lanterns That you are visible somewhere. Let me live behind my house while I listen Maybe that doesn't make me sad And blamed for what I didn't do Love is the love wherever it is. Let the seed shine And the plant break And the dress continually retracts inward And if you have eleven lips Let the twelfth become an eye! ** I loved you during the days that are not suitable for love My face was shaking with laughter And my happiness cannot be hidden. I said I was happy, so the citizens used violence on me Because my country was wounded. I write silently I have finally learned that I flow from the clothes of the days, To love people to console them And I love you to remember! ** It's three o'clock and five minutes And when you read that It will be four or eight And after ten years no one will want to sneak up on time. Sometimes life expands through wounds, and sometimes it seems lightning to those who cross bridges However It's not the loveliest for me Only because I'm going to twist to see you again We'll make a way to stay up And where we rejoice we should hide like birthday candles to beware of the envy of others! ** What happened to us? We go back twenty metres To see our arms embracing the air. We cry To draw honest words like bicycles With lethargy and hurt. What happened to us? We are hellish and fleeting, Historical as heaps And pale as the rays of waning moons And after every love story We fail to find what is not in us! ** Nobody thinks how he will build his house Things heal by chance, and humans too, even those we blame Some are born with a stone once To become homes forever! ** We tortured everything by the language By highness By the closure of a short street, By the childish war And by the sweet silence as a sign. Instincts that are inflamed like cigarettes And then trampled like heels. Tears after tears that which we call the mother tongue was aging brutally, our clothes were tight on our bodies and our poems as well! ** Be a mother to your two little children, A child of a man And let. him be as friendly as I am, and be savage, then It quickly disappears to hide its back. I don't mean love I don't mean the dead or the living I'm indifferent With the dignity of the parents Or the imprisonment of lovers throughout history to come or leave I love a job Those who ring the bells! ** In the silence of this night I knew how petrified I was and I loved you. How shy and cowardly you were And no explanation for that. I am sorry for what happened to me I want to get on my knees Now to love you as life is full with gravel, I bend like a spear to look good. I want to choose you where the monasteries are crowded A god for strangers! ** As I walk alone So why don't I love you through the ruins that I see? Through what burns What is extinguished in the stars? Through what is left of people from their cities And what did they leave for later generations? As I'm standing Why isn't everything a game? Why don't we close our eyes With death to hide Then he closes his eyes when it's his turn let's die! Amer Al-Tayeb Translated by Annette Nasser Proofread by Bahaa Iaali

Clouds are inhabited by the wind Who speaks a language that we hear, but do not understand. It can be a powerful howling sound Like the cries of a mighty warrior lunging forward. At other times, it is a whispering muffled sound. A soft voice among branches of trees Although faint, it's power to move and sway is still observed. Our eyes follow the clouds during the day. Is it because our lives mimic them? Destination unknown? Clouds remain vigilant and stand guard above us. Unless they disappear and yield the stage to a solid blue Where is it that they go when they do? The Bahamas? Maybe China? Imagination beckons. We turn away when the bright sun creeps out from behind them. Not wanting to be hurt, as in a bad relationship No two are the same Yet we try to find patterns among them. Look It's shaped like a heart. A butterfly. Things of beauty are often hard to explain. © David Michael Smith

Your shine is a roadmap, to the lost faith, faith, of your own self-confidence. Your path is not alone a path through the heavenly vault; she is a path that lifts up and steps on mine gives me hope back. Love, with its ray of light she is the magic of mine, a dream. Down the star trail, numerous doors stand before me from squeezing slowly one at a time one is opening up, bringing me into orbit, something forgotten, something started unfinished something long forgotten, done with the colors of the rainbow, with the colors of love they take me back to the life... with a willow hope Love for an eternal survival. © Milka Minkova

Yes, it is a drop Only a drop None can deny As it reposes in me But it's unorginated Perhaps self-created How can I see The feeling is oblique After a long storm The sky is clear There is no air No cloud in the sky But the same drop The same drop of emotion Still persists In my inner sense © Dr. Okram Shakuntala

Weak under the weight of flaws Blaming change Broken glass doesn't restore laws I don't miss you anymore The way I used to The fire turned to ash more. Glimmer of affection with no fear Poor heart caught the rainbow It was a flood of tears. Forever gone Holy spring heart Once I embraced and elegant dawn. Facts, to some extent Were you looking for the best? In ingratitude for the present. © Farhan Anjum

the early pregnancy of nights now white cotton pillows - forgotten islands the demise of funeral singers how shall I birth where shall I swim how shall I die where shall I love © Burhan

A tree doesn't die Just because you cut And hack it down, For its roots are well Preserved in the soil, And it lies with the Earth, as a daughter Within her mother's lap, There it slumbers deep And dreams of an Afterlife, when fed with Rainwater, it slowly Reconciles itself, then Peeps through the skin Of the soil, at the sky, Winks at the friendly Sun, and the air nurses it Back to what it was, And she vows to grow up. ©Apu Mondal

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 an 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 12 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 kaleidoscope display of life in 100 Sonnets), 'Poets Unify World', 'Positivity Within' and 'Unfeigned Symphonies'. All 12 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 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 of the Philippine Office of Motivational Strips and an approving editor of Bharath Vision website magazine based in India. BOOK SYNOPSIS: '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. Seven book covers were designed by GMGA Publishing and five book covers were designed by Carl Scharwath. Below, websites where you can find the author's books: Amazon and Allauthor.com

STRUM 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 2021 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. © Linda Imbler 2021 Both Linda Imbler's poems, "Strum", which graces the beginning of ILA Magazine and "Mistletoe, Innocent or Guilty", featured on "Editor's Choice" section are both in the Nov/Dec Edition, Issue # 5.

Like a baby language - universal giggle The same smile and borderless communication If we can conceive a child-like innocent world again, won't it be nice to breakdown all our so-called human barriers, where we have been chained by many names, in the prison of own catharsis? If we can travel like birds over the sky once again, without any fear, in this world as a global citizen If we can reunite the world again, as a family, sharing our happiness and sorrows, I dream at that time, surely, we can celebrate the joy of world peace. How beautiful it would be all these different beliefs of instruments If we could play together to sing a song of humanity to one rhythm, coming out from all rigidities and dancing like breeze, mesmerized by peace music how beautiful it could be the world without all these facade fences, as children play adorably together in one family without any prejudice? © Rupsingh Bhandari