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Poems Featured in Issue 6

 

SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT

Paul Laurence Dunbar - USA


Out in the sky the great dark clouds are massing;
I look far out into the pregnant night,
Where I can hear a solemn booming gun
And catch the gleaming of a random light,
That tells me that the ship I seek is passing, passing.

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THE DEBT

Paul Laurence Dunbar - USA


This is the debt I pay
Just for one riotous day,
Years of regret and grief,
Sorrow without relief.

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THE LONG AND SHORT

Sydney Lea - USA


Betty, as always, was making doughnuts.
Why would she stop, I supposed, even though
Her husband had died two nights before?
The general store would keep buying her stuff.
People loved those doughnuts, plain as they were.

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MY WIFE ASKS ME WHY I KEEP PHOTOGRAPHS IN A DRAWER

Baron Wormser - USA


Beneath tee shirts and underwear
A few almost-sepia photographs
Of my mother and fatheró-before they knew me.
My mother stands in front of the school
Where she first taught fourth grade.
Sheís young and lovely and smiling
In a summer dress. Her shoulders are bare,

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THE BREATH OF A DOVE

Birgit Bunzel - Germany
For Anna


With every breath, the field widens
and birds swarm into far distances.
The horizon swells and water
flows into the arteries and into the sea.

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SHARPSHOOTING MEMORIES

Birgit Bunzel - Germany


Your grief triggers my grief,
and it comes in battalions.
They lift you up and carry you
straight into sharpshooting memories.
And they leave me in the trenches
where time has made me a spy

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FALLEN FRAGRANCE

Lena Oh - S. Korea


A little flower has fallen
wilting to her death
before her full bloom.
The desolate street is bestrewn
with fallen fragrance,
a wave of cry travels
to find a solace.
Hope, aspiring spirits,
is falling like a feather.

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Poems Featured in Issue 5 of Nadwah

GOD OF COINCIDENCE

Sydney Lea - USA


you might have been that long-legged
woman striking as tall as you
we came out of the very same Rothko exhibit
the show was all on one floor
so where in the world could she have been
she seemed rushed hailed a cab and fled a mere instant

I noticed her beauty no doubt
but more her eyesí sadness though they never met mine
her look conveyed well I canít say what
she shook out her hair at the car-door

More on page 18 (Issue 5)

HOME MUSEUM

Sydney Lea - USA


His motherís doll surveys the living room.
Her hair is humanĖ his grandpaís. Fragile and dry,
still it clings to the sham childís jaundiced muslin dome.
In the kitchen, he has assembled a Chinese puzzle,
acquired somewhere on a trip in an age gone by:
back, that is, in the days when he still traveled.

 

Iíve watched him push his granny glasses up
above his brow, in order to scrutinize

More on page 20 (Issue 5)

 

INTO WISDOM

Sydney Lea - USA


The young send their news by phone nowadays.
Iíve just watched a video from a son:
it shows his sweet-tempered three-year-old boy
winding a key inside a stuffed monkey,
then laying the musical toy in the crib
of his baby brother. Intent, he listens

More on page 22 (Issue 5)

THE SCHOOL OF THE POOR

Birgit Bunzel - Germany


Leaves quiver, compelled from below,
as though by the breath of the underworld.
The meadow, too, heaves in the wind,
and a heron with amber-beaded eyes
soars across the water with slow beats of
its wings.

More on page 28 (Issue 5)

SHOES ON THE TABLE

Lena Oh - South Korea


Mom, Iím home.
Shouting to the air,
You throw me, here and there.
You left me scattered,
But no words before we parted.
All my life, I have accompanied you
To every little corner you wanted to go.
I was there with you,
Walking miles and miles together.
Itís alright you donít thank me, ever.

More on page 29 (Issue 5)

Closed Gate

Closed Gate

Poems Featured in Previous Issues

Simon j. Ortiz - America

In this hemisphere, corn is ancient and young: it is the seed, food, and symbol of a constantly developing and revolutionary people.

 

Donít fret now.

 

Songs are useless

to exculpate sorrow.

Thatís not their intent anyway.

More on page 15 (Issue 4)

Itís near time to leave for the unknown

JumokeVerissimo - Nigeria 

(For a friend living with cancer)

 

Itís time to leave for the unknown

Time when past years skid in my head

Time to shed the burden of despair

From a mind where tears peak gut

 

Ignorance is no virtue for one dying

I choose contentment in knowing nothing

Gathering strength thinking and disregarding

More on page 25 (Issue 4)

To the Widow

Adjei Agyei-Baah - Ghana

 

You are the sleepless duck

Who rests on a single leg

Keeps vigil over a silent compound

And waits upon the ancestral spirits

To come for the last morsel of the day

More on pages 28-29  (Issue 4)

Dear Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Osita Igbo - Nigeria

 

We should all be feminists?  No! It is rusty; and rust cannot be a bluing for the geckoís skin. You claim to stuff rare sutures in fissure of the sun. You are the warmth of moon at night feast, trumpeting crystals of talons. 

More on pages 30-31 (Issue 4)

Merkabah: The Wind Over the Mountains

Sheikha A. - Pakistan

 

after Tafiyar Qaguwa: A Crabís Journey in Search of God by Umar Saleh Gwani (Stunned Collection) 

 

Wastage teaches us scraps are meaningful; 

we wipe plates with pieces of bread before setting  

them in a sink. Running with wolves could mean 

the same as salvaging grace. Our lessons become

More on page 32 (Issue 4)

Closed Gate

Closed Gate

 

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