Traversing the forsaken hills afar, Exploring earth's every buried place, I stared lonely at that cerulean star -- Pondering adages are fraught with grace. In our vast minds, words are taking flight, Tears are streaming down, silent and tender. Each drop is a testament to the night, And a whisper of the heart’s surrender. Our souls do abide in our drawing prose, As letters gleam with their swirling embrace. Our dreams are often fashioned where life flows, Etching their journey with soft and gentle grace. Life adorns us with a scarf of love, And dresses our minds in beauty’s guise, We soar with beauty like the stars above, Savouring our lives in joyous skies. Written by Walid BOUREGHDA © All Rights Reserved 27/05/024

Featuring Seven Poems written by Andree Malenoir TEMPUS FUGIT Time flies...so, does it bother you? When time flies...and if you only knew When young lives are blind to what's in view For 'young lives' stay 'young' like morning dew The yeas passed...wherever did they go? At long last...we see what we should know Our 'young' mask has fallen long ago Now we ask...that 'ageing' follows...slow... But 'age' came so unexpectedly There's no blame...that we just couldn't see It's 'Life's' game...I see the joke's on me! For life's wane continues...constantly! HEART-LESS I stood back and waited As I saw you lose your heart You gave it to another one I new right from the start I'm under no illusions That I'm merely just a friend Someone that you confide in When love comes to an end I'm a shoulder fit to cry on And to tell your troubles to Until the next love comes a-calling And you're into someone new I can see that you are happy If only for a while But still I play the waiting game You know how to beguile You might say I am foolish To give my heart to you I should take it back and save it For to give to someone true. But I cannot help my feelings They are deep inside of me So be careful, do not break it... It is yours...so let it be... GRIEF They look at her & see her smile They think that she's ok They stop & talk...just for awhile It's just another day! They see her getting on with life No sign of any grief But something, deep within her eyes, Is something they don't see! She shuts the door, alone again She makes a cup of tea Then all at once she feels the pain Each day brings no relief What 'they' can't see is deep inside They think that all is well Far from the world, she tries to hide... So no one else can tell! She sheds a silent tear once more In emptiness she cried Her grief is felt behind closed doors For part of her has died... FLAWED I'm flawed, I'm not perfect...I'm a little bit cracked... I'm still a 'good egg' but perfection I've lacked! I make so many errors and get it quite wrong On my journey through life I am 'muddling' along! There are days when the sun shines & I get it right... As my confidence rises and defeats out of sight! But then something just trips me & I'm falling down As my arms flail around me & I fall to the ground! So, what are these flaws that are holding me back? They are called 'being human'...& I veer off the track! Yet my aim is to be just as good as can be So, accept all my flaws, Cos' they're all part of me! ENNUI I like this word...it's expressive It 'does' what it says 'on the tin'! Its meaning may sometimes elude you Well...it's Boredom, Malaise or Chagrin! 'You' feel sluggish & weary & restless With a languor & lassitude, too 'You' are listless, fed up & lethargic And you feel there is nothing to do! Enervation surrounds your persona You're unhappy, uneasy, depressed! Well, if that's not enough, just consider Doing 'nothing' means you need a rest! So when feeling disquieted & gloomy For you're deep in the 'mire of despond'... Raise your eyes, look about, see the beauty Let your mind take it in...rest upon! So get out of your pit...make the effort Even tho it's a hard thing to do... You'll be glad that you did..., it's the dawning... Of a vibrant, exciting...'new' you! Andree Malenoir has been writing poetry since the age of 11 and has written approximately 1,000 poems in her collection. She is a life long learner and is still studying online at the age of 74! After completing her A levels, she trained as a Pharmacy Technician and in the evening, she would be studying, sometimes just for pleasure or to add to her qualifications. She soon became interested in Complementary Medicine and started her own practice a few years later, she went on to run 5 different practices in London and Essex. Andree has written love poetry, humorous poetry and even subjects such as crime, child abuse, domestic abuse, and says "I know they are hard-hitting, but I feel it's important not to ban subjects just because they are difficult." When she's not studying or writing poetry, her interests include R. M.S. Titanic, Jack the Ripper...an interest sparked by living with her great Aunt and Uncle, who were alive during that time and lived on the same street as one of the police stations investigating the crimes. She loves to dance and listen to music, both classical and popular. In conclusion, Andree's motivational message is "Believe in yourself and realize that what sometimes feels like failure is in fact a lesson that will help you to achieve your goal. Don't give up!"

Featuring the delightful work of 5 poets In a quaint little town by the sea, Lived a man who was terribly free. With a twirl of his hat, And a wink, just like that, He danced through the waves, full of glee. © CONCETTA PIPIA US TRICKY PROPOSAL Shiny snail soft slimy squishy Served as high-end delicacy Titled escargot Pretty in pink bow Proposal turned breakup tricky. © RUPA RAO US There once was a young man called Grey Who chewed tobacco everyday He left home at sunrise And found to his surprise That his whole mouth was full of hay. © SHWETA SAHAI India A bee and a wasp were two foes They fought with their arrows and hoes. He caught them, the pink fox And kept in his red socks The bee and the wasp stung his toes. © RAFIYA SAYEED Jammu/Kashmir, India Teacher May called Peter's attention Seeing her tutee's full attention Of using his cellphone But he, in murmured tone Informed of her own phone's vibration. Peter said he borrowed his Pa's phone And then he set it to speaker phone Class heard Teacher May's voice "Darling, here's the invoice Of the weekend date, we can't postpone." © MYRTLE REYES E. TEJADA Philippines

MY POLE STAR: A POETIC TRIBUTE TO RABINDRANATH TAGORE He was my River, my Hill, my Forest deep He was my Captain, my Sail, my Ship He was my Shelley, my Keats, my Neruda or Whitman He was my red Comet, my Star and my Sun Camelia and Rhododendron of Shillong blazed his eye His window was his horizon, his blue sky He'll wait for me, silent in my heart and mind To inherit the treasure trove he left behind. © Dr. Ratan Bhattacharjee My Mother In my childhood I never knew She was my mother I knew she was my comfort, my anger, my happiness, my pain In my boyhood, I knew slowly She was my companion, my morning breakfast, bearer of my school bag, my playmate on the green lawn and my first shower of vernal rain In my manhood I came to feel She is my mom, she is the happiest person on the earth to see me grow up as the best of humanity She taught me lessons of life and all my bounden duty to family and society Now she depends on me as a creeper on the tree, in my busy hours now she has a lot to say Now I am a family man Sorry, I cannot give her now, more time and sometimes I even forget to wish her © Dr. Ratan Bhattacharjee An International Tagore Awardee 2024 winner, Dr. Ratan Bhattacharjee, Ph.D., known as Oleander Poet of India, is an Affilate Faculty of English at Virginia Commonwealth University, Richmond Virginia, formerly Associate Professor & Chair Post Graduate Deot of English Dum Dum Motijheel College is at present, Founder/President of Kolkata Indian American Society (KIAS). President of Kaleidoscope Indian American Society, besides being Executive member International Advisory Board of Theodore Drieser Society, Philadelphia. He is a multilingual poet/writer/columnist in various national dailies. He is a Trilingual Columnist, with praise, Poet. He is the Founder Member in the International advisory Board Theodore Dreiser Society, Philadelphia. Dr. Ratan Bhattacharjee is a Trilingual Columnist in national English, Bengali and Assamese Dailies & winner of many educational excellence awards. He is also Author of 'Six Feet Distance: Looking Back to Lockdown' (AuthorHouse, Bloomington USA), 'Francis Scott Fitzgerald: His Art and Vision' (Patridge Singapore), 'The Ballad of the Bleeding Bubbles: Melodies and Maladies of Love' (Cyberwit Allahabad), 'Oleander Blooms: A Bouquet of Oleander Poems of Love' (Authors Press, New Delhi), 'Theodore Dreiser Going Beyond Naturalism' (INSC), 'Renee Rudhagnee' (Authors Press), 'Our Daughter, Our Princess' (Authors Press, New Delhi). He has been twice invited to Fairleigh Dickinson University (USA) as International Visiting Faculty and chaired many International Conferences, given public talk, took classes and participated in all events during his stay, there. He has edited Journals 'Literary Confluence' and 'Voice of Indian English Writers'. He pioneered some ideas of Fourth World Literature in India and worked as Resource Person in a number of International Conferences on Gender Studies, Post Colonial and American Literature in his country and abroad, and was felicitated by Hon'ble CM, Mr. Chandra Babu Naidu, as muli-lingual poet. He has to his credit, more than 2,000 articles in print and in online media. His collected works 'Vol I' (Partridge) and 'Our Time Revisited: A Collection of Essays on Man, Literature and Society' (Partridge), 'My American Days' are in press, to be published in 2024. You may read more about the Ratan Bhattacharjee at LinkedIn

My mother is... As beautiful as the golden sunrise melting softly the sleep in dark eyes As smart as the silver moon taking me from breastfeeding to spoon As sweet as a blushing bloom single move fills air with ambrosial blume As busy as a free bird songs of hard work are not unheard As caring as the God rating strengths and flaws with applaud As loving as a smile influencing the mood from a distant mile As brave as a tree standing tall in the gusty winds and fathom of sea As helpful as a text book solution to frequent queries in one look As fun as seasons hopeful through sun and snow for thousand reasons As strong as the Nature no matter what the role, a brilliant stager. © Rafiya Sayeed Jammu/Kashmir, India. My Mother Is... As beautiful as the flower On the crown of the princess Named after it, But who unlike her Is not locked in a tower. As smart as the owl, Athena's faithful companion. She shares her wisdom with us To help us make the good decision When facign trials and tribulations. As sweet as the honey in her voice, Calming our anxious soul, When it's distressed by the unfairness Of the cruel world we live in. As busy as a bee, Flying from flower to flower Despite the changing weather To provide for her family. As caring as a guardian angel, Watching over us and intervening When things get out of hand, Never letting us fall into the pit of despair. As loving as Mother Nature herself, Giving us unconditional love Without asking for anything in return. Her generosity has no boundaries, Although she prefers to suffer quietly. As brave as a lioness, Placing herself as a human shield In front of us, without fearing The pain inflicted by the enemies. As cool as a cucumber In situations that fill many with panic, Emitting soothing vibes Like nature's holy symphony. As helpful as a book, Providing us with answers To the things we want to learn And use at some time in life. As fun as a barrel of monkeys, Together with Dad, she makes us smile, Advising us to see the positive aspects Of life more often than the negative ones. As strong as a horse, Carrying on in life Despite the obstacles she overcame, Hoping for us to follow her example And never let others push us around. We may be different as a rainbow from thunder Most of the time, due to the way we see the world And understand things around us, But nothing can destroy the bond That my brother and I share with you, as a family © Gheorghe Laura Romania

Celebrating the Role of Librarians and Libraries Preserving the Past, Empowering the Future From April 3-9th, ILA Magazine's Guest Editor, Mr. Mushtaque B. Barq, offered a prompt to writers observing National Library Week. The prompts offered were a great opportunity to celebrate valuable roles that libraries and librarian workers perform in shaping communities. Along with the three poets Mr. Barq chose, ILA is also featuring his poem as well. TRIBUTE TO LIBRARIANS (National Poetry Month, April 2024) In the city of silence, a hollow hall shelves wisdom Sealed in the coffins of words, the great bards of yore and now Who peep down through our pupils and leaves a mark for future And silently ignite the ignored and half-paced, still spark. S. R. Ranganathan, father of library science A visionary, a seed of wisdom sowed silently In the ripe soil for generations to come and take heed For every learned soul with love, pays sincere heed to breed. Library workers, like bees, move around, but silently And place the volumes, those life giving modules and models Shelved according to the digit as marked on the board Repair when needed, replace when departing unnoticed Those gentle hands that hold velvety touches of bards Novels, histories, anthologies, and biographies They go but un-praised, for we leave the books and move on, Ah! And find the book on the right shelf the next day, with a wink Without a word to the workers in the hall, what a fall! Let those hands stay and serve the rest, for the best services A bookless world is the darkest, deepest, most deadly den. © MUSHTAQUE B. BARQ Guest Editor Jammu/Kashmir, India BEYOND THE BOOK Having a passionate bond with books, Intensity of thirst to gain more knowledge was never satisfied. Love story began when my father wrapped my school books with wrapper! It was pure joy to read through poems, History, Geography, mathematics with beautiful stories of moral science! Encyclopedia was the gem of all books In my school, which filled the universe My heart skidded on Nancy Drew, taking me on adventures and a mysterious world, where she dominated! Enid Blyton wasn't left behind! "Mills and boons" gave me a sip of pure love Honest dreams which seemed quite true but Shakespeare took me to a whole new world through beautiful stories of romance and battles, which seemed too real! Archie's characters taught me that you can really be silly and happy, without a care! That was the time when I heard about computers, which at the time, was alien to me! I was deeply smitten by the world of computers and grabbed every book which explained depth! I couldn't afford to get into any of its courses, the dreams shrunk and tried to compromise with - whatever available! Electronics for you was the magazine which became my craze but my friend giving me "competition for success", "Sports Star" I'd take only for Steffi Graf and Andre Agassi along with loads of comics! Having a mini library in my home, was like owning a large one showing me the world through few pages but my brain used it many ways without a limit, so wonderful! Secret messages were written on books which I used to analyze like Agatha Christie, which was very exciting! The smell of fresh crisp pages which were attached to each other and lines with errors, missing pages were all acitvities we were involved when books dominated our little world! Beyond the horizon of books, a world of possibilities are still waiting eagerly for us! © SONAL RAO India THE OARSMEN OF WORDS Swimming deep, in the ocean of books, Hemmed by driftwoods and old cloth bounds, Words unburden histories of yore, before the keen eyes. Vying for attention are the myths and legends of love, separation, and tragedies of unlucky souls, from fissures of past; The moth eaten pages hum and trill of battles lost and won by knights and horsemen. Diving deep, through the mulch and algae of dour history, You come across Elizabethan pearls, And Renaissance mollusks and classical anemones; Arrayed in gear, the Jacobean scripts, questioned the social order, While the metaphysical bards, filled their creativity with subtle and deeper meanings, foreshadowing the rise of romanticism, pedestalling emotion and love. As you skim the insides, shuffling through the frosty stacks, You'll find hidden treasures, ensconced between the lines Studded with symbolic gems, conveying great truths Than those who learned on naturalism, realism and worshipped nature. All said and done, libraries remain the most pious institutions, preserving The chronicles of man and nature in a time-capsule. ©KALUCHARAN SAHU India A BIRD IN THE LIBRARY When I enter the library And stand near the cupboard Full of books, I felt like a bird Thirsty for a word, Through flutter, a word I utter; In every book I feel a brook of knowledge, Flowing calm and quietly In the clime of wisdom, Drinking its water to the fullest I enjoy my freedom, Some golden page For me, a wishful golden cage, Entering it I tweet Essence of life sweet, Going through paragraph I revise my flight's graph Some meaningful sentence ending with why Opens new vistas in the sky Me, voracious bird, digests each word With new vision, I see the world, At comma, semi colon I pause And think over my noble cause, Sumptuous intellectual feed Modifies my beak, With my revised edition I attain new peaks, My new version Gives me a new vision, Me, bird in the library Wish it could be an aviary, Like me, other birds Would fly in the world of words! © SUBHASHCHANDRA B. ADHAV India

A Modern Tale of Resilience In a bustling city, amidst the clamor of cars and the rush of people, there lived a young hare named Harper. Harper was known for his speed and agility, but he lacked patience. He ofen boasted about his swift abilities, much to the amusement of his friends. One day, the mayor of the city announced a grand race through the winding streets and towering skyscrapers. Excited by the prospect of glory, Harper eagerly signed up, confident in his ability to outpace everyone. On the day of the race, Harper dashed ahead from the starting line, leaving a trail of dust behind him. But as he sprinted through the streets, he soon found himself lost in the maze of alleys and roads. Despite his speed, he couldn't find his way back to the race course. Meanwhile, a tortoise named Theo, plodded along steadily, taking each turn with careful consideration. While he moved slower than Harper, he never lost sight of the route, inching closer to the finish line with each deliberate step. As the sun began to set, Harper stumbled upon Theo, who was nearing the end of the race. Exhausted and disheartened, Harper realized his mistake. With a newfound respect for patience and perseverance, he followed Theo to the finish line. In the end, it was Theo who crossed the finish line first, proving that slow and steady indeed, wins the race. And as Harper learned, rushing into things without preparation often leads to unnecessary detours and missed opportunities. © Concetta Pipia US

"A poet has the capacity to think about "Emotion recollected in tranquility", according to the poet, William Wordsworth (1770-1850). Emily Dickinson (1830-1886), is famous as the poet who rarely left the house but often journeyed to the depths of the human heart. Poets and poetesses are described as creators in the form of thinkers, songwriters, authors, maestro composers of poems, prose or music, performing art to their audiences, having art in the form of paintings, photography, sculptures, to name a few and talents found in each. "Darkness of night is painted bright by the brushes of beams in a bright painter named, 'SUN', the handsome!!" Sonal Rao Contributing Guest Editor India "There are times when a poet's mind is a lovely well, landscaped garden ablaze with vibrant blooms, but at other times, that garden becomes wild with weeds, and yet its artistry never diminishes." © Myrtle Reyes E. Tejada Philippines "Shifting of sands in the desert has its own artistic pattern which can't be replicated; Humming of bees or twittering of birds remind us of the music of life. The waves of the sea or the thunder of clouds follow a pattern, invisible to the naked eye. Those who succeed in deciphering the meaning, enjoy life; Those who don't, regret." © Kalucharan Sahu India

A piece of bread To quench the hunger For day and night; A person shouts out for a sad existence, Searches for it, but fails and finishes in a while. Being born with the cruel fate, whose fault is it? Am I to blame myself? Were we unwanted? Did we get into the wrong world? Insatiable hunger, Public negligence, Disappearance of rejoice... I want to live in clouds and fill myself with air in the universe; Still the heat from the sun is increasing Not enough to melt the frozen blood And faded heartbeats of my brothers. The ground beneath your feet; Where a piece of bread, Don't fall apart! Where is the Jesus who takes care of all? There is no answer! I have the piece of bread only except my wealth here. © ANGELA KOSTA Albania - Italy Angela Kosta was born in Elbasan - Albania and has lived in Italy since 1995. She is a translator, essayist, journalist, literary critic, publisher and promoter. She has published 11 books: novels, poems and fairy tales in Albanian, Italian and English. Her publications and translations have been published in various national and international literary magazines and newspapers. Angela Kosta translates and writes articles and interviews for the newspaper "Calabria Live", Saturno Magazine, Alessandria Today Magazine, the international magazine 'Orfeu', the newspaper 'Nacional Gazeta Destinacioni', 'Perqasje Italo' - 'Shqiptare', the magazine "Atunis", and collaborates with the magazines: 'International Literature Language Journal' (Michigan), 'Wordsmith International Editorial' (Florida), 'The Daily Global' (Bangladesh), 'Sindh Courier' (Pakistan), 'Friendship of People' (Tagikstan), etc. Angela is a co-author in several anthologies in: USA, England, India, Bangladesh, Albania, Russia, Kosovo, etc. She is also Vice President of Poets in the World, in South Korea, a member of the League of Writers (LSHASH) and BSHBSH, Italy, AAA (America), Greece, Poland, Hungary, Mexico, Romania, Croatia, India, etc. Angela's poems, essays and articles are translated and published in 30 foreign languages and countries. In addtion, she has been featured in International Literature Language Journal (Michigan), Wordsmith International Editorial (Florida), Saturn Magazine (Italy) and Journal Sentinel (India).

From the recent prompt of Chaucer, who wrote much of his content with wit, insight, combining elements at times, of romance, comedy or moral allegory, we also asked poets to write along that same line, crafting an experience which could have been something outside of their comfort zone, or a reflection of their own or a more profound occasion that sparked their muse. SHORT STORY: "THE JOURNEY OF A DEJECTED HEART" He looked at her with a deep glare, she wished she could feel that look and make it find its way to her heart. He came near her and murmured, "You look beautiful and you smell like a summer breeze upon a deserted shore." She smiled and appreciated his poetic aspect of giving and sending roses to a middle-aged woman. They waited until the end of the party before he tried to touch her left hand and brought it to his lips, she suddenly drew it back. She looked at her short skirt and tried to pull it down to her knees. She had been putting on weight ever since the death of her dear ones and her family, and felt an unfathomable loss. Though she could not deny that piling up pounds was also due to age and the drastic dwindling of her physical activity...she looked at him, she did not want to say anything. He opened the car door and asked her in, she silently accepted the invitation and went. "When do birds come home," he asked. She smiled and answered, "When I prepare their nest." He seemed happy with her answer and tried to hug her with one hand, this time she did not retreat. She neared her head and buried it in the pit of his shoulder. "I feel cold, she said, winter in my life has devoured spring dawns." He lowered his eyes to meet hers and murmured, "We will greet dawn very soon and we'll borrow some rays of the day's baby son." She sighed and wished she could confess, "I am too old to have a baby" but she did not want to flaunt desire in his eyes. She did not take garments with her, just the outlets she was wearing that night, she felt a bit cold as the ride was long. She wanted to ask him about the destination but she was keen on tasting the flare of suprise. The mist behind the windshield's front glass was thick, it had borrowed a lot from the mist that had reigned over her heart for all these years. She smiled at the mist and tried to stretch a hand to grasp the droplets of rain beating her left seat glass, she knew that these drips had sprung from her eyes, something which had deeper furrows on her face. How could he find her, still beautiful when some other people have already thought her over the hill? "Where are we going?", she finally asked. "Our destination shall be determined by the amount of fuel in the car, when the engine stops, we will bid goodbye to the previous life and start a new one." She looked and smiled with her dejected heart, took his hand and kissed it. © SIHEM CHERIF Tunisia SHORT STORY: HUMAN EXPERIENCE of PRESENT DAY: "HAPPY AT MY DEPARTURE - AN ANECDOTE" The room reverberated with hushed whisperings, and it sounded like a lounge of humming bees. We're sitting in the Oberoi dning hall, for a lunch out with Chancellor of our University. The lady Vice-Chancellor was tense and her face was dripping with sweat, which she was trying to wipe with her cotton kerchief. But the kerchief, already wet to the limit, failed to clean her face. By then, we had exhausted the biographical anecdotes of our guest, which were far from endearing or in anyway encouraging. A person's (dis -) - reputation travels faster than himself. The Vice-Chancellor's discomfort and uneasiness contaminated us in equal measures. Those least bothered, were doing all sorts of pantomime acts to their best of abilities. It was a scene worth watching. The Chancellor entered at the dot; his eyes fixed on his wrist watch, as he stepped into the dining hall. A thin, dusky and long figure, neatly booted and suited, his tie tightly knotted and tucked under his three-piece suit, he carried himself with a dashing disregard for the heat and humidity of the summer. Formalities over, we sat down for lunch. The hotel had 5 stars, and the bill was, as was expected, unusually high, keeping with its star value. The dishes were, of course, nice and tasty and, in our innocuous thinking, had to have had entertained our honorable guest suitably, keeping his status and importance in view. Although we didn't expect a friendly pat on the back, we hoped the aftermath to pass on without hiccups. Smiling and wiping his hands with a kerchief, the Chancellor looked, with an invisible quirky smirk on his lips, at the Vice Chancellor, and said in a tone which, although not pronounced sarcastically, was not unambiguously honest, either. "It seems, Ma'am Vice Chancellor has enough funds at her disposal to entertain her guests so lavishly, whereas I, on the other hand, find it very difficult to entertain my guests even in a humbler way in my kitchen." Shell shocked, we were at a loss whether to take it as a compliment, or a disparaging remark at the opulent way we tried to impress His Excellency. But the final salvo was yet to come. At the airport, while seeing him off, the Vice Chancellor, now visibly relaxed after a grueling three-day, minute-to-minute itinerary of the Hon'ble Chancellor, committed the crime of smiling while the Chancellor was in his last leg of departure. Looking at her smiling face, the Hon'ble Chancellor quipped, "It seems the Vice Chancellor is happy at my departure," she tried to explain away the discomfiture. But, he had already turned his back, and climbing the steps. We stood still, motionless and expressionless, on the tarmac until the planet took off to the skies, and reached a safe distance. This is how reptutations are made and morphed into anecdotes, before floating in the air. KALUCHARAN SAHU India POEM: "WHEN WILL I LEARN TO SAY KNOW?" I wait for the dawn to break to rise from this inner darkness muscles do not relax bones do not bend the earth beneath my feet shakes I wet the hands with flood of eyes to wipe the fog from the old mirror chain of customs chokes my chest the world to me is a box of lies longing for the day I can say no and dust the burden off my head melting emotions cast a spell all is dark, I have nowhere to go © Rafiya Sayeed Jammu/Kashmir, India

Poets were challenged to write honoring our planet through creativity and action, harnessing an awareness, regarding environmental issues and reflecting positive change, using their voices to advocate by weaving verses and capturing the essence of our natural world, igniting their passions for environmental stewardship or simply expressing their thoughts and emotions despite this planet facing adversities and unfavorable conditions. AGGRIEVED EARTH Nonstop cold war on the crust melts down mantle into sooty dust Hunger and chaos shatters core death is knocking at every door. Barren lands with the murky seas Homeless beasts and smokey trees Dateless tale of riots and foes plagued by avarice all my shows. © Rafiya Sayeed Jammu and Kashmir, India TEMPORARY PLANET For a million, trillion, unknown years, This place evolved alone; It's ice took shape - It's seas appeared - To crave this land of stone. Creatures evolved And then disappeared As if they were a sudden mist, When suddenly somewhere from all this mixture - A new mammal came to exist. They slowly rose from crawlings To stand upon two feet, Then looked around this forested land, And decided to deplete. A need for shelter A place to carve a home A stone axe where the first trees fell, Their caves were soon abandoned, They soon became the hunters The first signs that our planet fell. And so they drove on carelessly, Through many endless wars, Through plagues that tried to wipe them out; Throughout global heating...they still endured. Despite the many famines, Every warning that was sent - It has now at last reached the stage...the end game - Where it is too late to repent. © John Anthony Fingleton Lambaré, Paraguay Father Time peers upon all life, turns away with shame as Mother Earth chokes upon smog and pollution blinded by destruction, corruption and greed deafened by the cacophony of noise, Tongues twisted and deceit maimed by callousness, laziness, indifference Numb by rippling effects of negative repetition o' patterns, ignorance and carelessness tattered, drained and consumed father time debates whether to bring forth the end of days Look. See. Listen. Hear All that is around Unite and save our mother earth It's all we have to live upon. it's all we have to love upon. © Mena Sisto Canada THE EARTH IS BLEEDING The birds have taken flight from the neighborhoods So are the trees, and green groves, pushed to clumps and clusters Replaced by proud and egoistic structures, raging like burners The centipede of civilization is on the prowl, through the woods. The earth is decaying, its arteries are clogged with discarded refuse; Lungs infected, body separating from filth, and civilzational dust. No longer the pristine streams greet us with the same warmth and trust; The mountains denuded, and forests ravaged by human greed and abuse. The cuckoos rarely cu-coo with trilling voice across your hearth, The nightingales' no more sing, serenading their mates at night. The fresh air has lost out to gaseous fumes and fossils finite Locked and braided with micro plastic, the earth is gasping for breath. The earth is bleeding, unable to bear the mayhem and madness And eagerly waiting for healing touch and poultice of kindness. © Kalucharan Sahu India EARTH DESTRUCTION Tampering with nature's plans Who do you think you are Altering the world and its land Just for the sake of our cars Polluting the oceans and rivers With all our toxic waste Dumping without thinking Causing chaos in our haste Cutting down the forests Making animal species extinct What on earth are we doing It's time to stop and think It's time to save the planet To help mother earth bloom Time is of the essence Do something to help soon. © Donna McCabe UK MOTHER NATURE I miss gamboling around like a lamb on the meadow, feeling the grass sprinkled with dewdrops under my feet while welcoming a new day at dawn. I want to feel your warm motherly hug when winter dresses you in a white-as-snow dress and adorns you with glittering rime ice, getting you ready to welcome the Holy Child. I'm weaving a sweet-scented flower crown at summer for you to dance together with the Sânziene 1, to bring good luck. I, the humble poet, am writing these verses to show my gratitude to you for what you gave me and continue to give me from the bottom of your heart without asking for something in return like many souls blinded by riches and power do. © Gheorge Laura Romania NOTES: 1 Sânziene are gentle fairies from Romanian folklore that are celebrated every year on June 24th, in Romania. Source: Wikipedia Haiku save the mother earth enveloping atmosphere gen next legacy © Subhashchandra Adhav India

Kashmir ! Whence water flux Each vein of race Mountains narrate tales to the skies Soothing aura so judicious Santoor's dilute strings Pashmina's cozy web and the 'Red Gold' honest saffron Verily! Time-honoured ethos. Folks with the virginal Eyes Diligence in hands and virtue in spirits The gardens imprints the vision Mughals artistic wonders and the notion in motion The wholly canopy of paradise - - Spring as the Green Velvet Summer as the Glorious triumph Fall as the Golden era Winter as the peace and cuisine The Gigantic shadow stands so tall From Green to Gold Chinar... Aye ! A sheen to eye Subtle and Gentle Shikara's intrinsic glide By the bare and cold chest of Dal lake Colorful birds tweeting at dawn singing as if nursery rhymes Rushing back at sun down The pinnacle of majesty vale of Kashmir Intermontane valley As Venice of the East and the Heaven on Earth KASHMIRI. © Qurat ul Ain Yasir Hailing from the Heaven or Kashmir, Qurat ul ain Yasir has her own collection of poems based on different themes. Her keen interests and optimistic approach towards writing has made her work known and published in both local as well as international journals.