Heaven on Earth

 

What a relief it would be, if we could just quit

Being backward tornado concentration camps.

Aircrafts would not tumble down like such purely shit

From broken off wings and get us branded with stamps.

 

Terror units would not fill the sky like such sheep

With which defects can get proven by geniusses.

Continents would not be so very hard to keep

And peace might stand a chance at last without juices.

 

 

 

Maurits Christian van Holtz, The Netherlands

 

#dylanday

 

 

Maurits Christian van Holtz, The Netherlands . His study of aeronautical Engineering at the Technical University of Delft since 1970 ended with a lot of mysterious, often educative air disasters. In 2013 ornadomirakel Stichting got founded at Rotterdam to publish it. https://mcvholtz.wixsite.com/tornado-enterprises

 

MY DREAMS

 

1. I dream that I dream that I dream that I dream that I dream that I dream....

2. I dream that I will die without pain in the middle of a dream.

3. I dream that all the weapons in the world suddenly disappear.

4. I dream that I am making a proof of the mathematical theorem: 10 is a lonely number.

5. I dream that I stopped loving things because things don't know I exist.

6. I dream that she tells me: you can't be romantic and perverted at the same time.

7. I dream that I am not a poet, but that I am the poem.

8. I dream that I cannot understand why Noah only wanted to save the animals and plants, but not the people.

9. I dream that I started a revolution with all the poets, it was a beautiful failure.

10. I dream that I am what I love and that I love what I am.

11. I dream that children were very happy to go to schools and universities.

12. I dream that my mother made “mazamorra morada” for me.

13. I dream that my best Danish friend was aporophobic.

14. I dream that I go from fear to hate and then to violence.

15. I dream that I experience something beautiful, but I can't remember what it was.

16. I dream that I like life less, but I like to live.

17. I dream that I feel other people's pain.

18. I dream that my name is Rick as Bogart in the Casablanca movie.

19. I dream that I suffered from anatidaephobia.

20. I dream that I stay young every day until I die.

21. I dream that I could hear what was not said.

22. I dream that I am robust, healthy, and clean.

23. I dream that it was not important for me to remain alive, but to remain human.

24. I dream that someone ate the yellow snow.

25. I dream that she loves me as much as I love her

26. I dream that I do not control my memory but that my memory controls me.

27. I dream that the hell of the poor is made of the paradise of the rich.

28. I dream that my worst enemy is my own mind.

29. I dream that my brain is trying to understand its own complexity, then it becomes more complex.

30. I dream that after I die, I could choose to enter either heaven or hell, it was a big dilemma because I have friends in both places.

31. I dream that people are loved for their authenticity and loathed for their superficiality.

32. I dream that I agitate, I educate, and I organize.

33. I dream that loneliness helps me find my friends.

34. I dream that the intelligent people are insecure, and the stupid people are very secure.

35. I dream that time can be experienced objectively and subjectively.

36. I dream that time is the greatest tyrant.

37. I dream that my anima and my persona cannot mediate between my ego and my shadow.

38. I dream that I am a cucumber with anxiety.

39. I dream that my manifesto is: serenity, courage, wisdom, and generosity.

40. I dream that the love of power is transformed into the power of love.

41. I dream that in a world of lies it is a revolutionary act to tell the truth.

42. I dream that I discover the meaning of life, but it is too complicated to be explained in words.

43. I dream that I am a feminist.

44. I dream that I am a point, without weight or dimensions.

45. I dream that I fight for peace.

46. I dream that I am a rhizome.

47. I dream that Palestine and Israel agree to create a common nation.

48. I dream that I don’t worry about Artificial Intelligence but about the decline of human intelligence.

49. I dream that finally my ego is dead.

50. I dream that suddenly the poor people become rich, and the rich people become poor, now the new richs are helping the new poors.

 

 

Victor Vidal, Peru/Denmark

 

#dylanday

 

Victor Valqui Vidal was born in Peru and resides in Denmark. He is an engineer, a mathematician, a cultural sociologist, visual artist, and poet. He is also a performer. He studied in Peru, France, Belgien, and Denmark. He has published poems in several anthologies and published short stories. He is chairman of the art association Astrid Noack Atelier, DK.

https://www.facebook.com/victor.v.vidal/

 

 

The Poppy Field Dream

 

 

In a dream from my childhood I recall

A poppy field that rolled to a pretty stonewall

And where I sat in this darling little scene

An old teapot protruded from the soil.

 

A chaffinch sang of sun and togetherness

And she lifted the mood to something quite wondrous

The sky was a faint blue a bedsheet might be

And I awoke to the feeling that nature just loved us.

 

 

Owen O’Sullivan, Ireland

 

#dylanday

 

Owen O’Sullivan (Ireland) has studied both Film Making and Photography at St. John’s Central College, Cork. His love for the Arts comes from his father who would sing the songs of Van Morrison while walking with his children around Blackrock Castle. He has been writing poetry for twelve years and has been published in Ireland, U.K., and U.S.A. He graduated from University College Cork in 2021 after studying Youth and Community and is currently coordinator for Mahon Meals on Wheels. He lives in Blackrock, Cork.

 

The night goes away,

the omnipresent blue of the sky shines.

the entire flock of birds

circle in space.
They carry you away!
Thoughts full of dreams,
when it is not known yet
whether we are also circling
between darkness and light,
until we find our own nests?
We will fold our wings,
wake up to the consciousness of the world;
mountain peaks, oceans and winds,
day and night, lack and excess,
depth and height.
Our own star? 

 

___

 

*** Lost among the Commandments...

 

            "...I was born to be a gardener ... "

                        A. Saint-Exupery

 

Lost among the Commandments,

we are on the edge of the forest,

together with painters at open-air workshops.

Who knows where the omnipresent-muse lives?

By a table in a cafe in Tuchów?

Maybe in the park, on a bench by the path?

Or rather in the atelier of Mark!

The enchanted springs is within us.

Everyone can turn into a fountain,

blossom like a dream garden,

to reach for the sun,

like a seed from below the ground.

 

 

Zbigniew Mirosławski, Poland

 

#dylanday

 

 

 

Zbigniew Mirosławski born in Poland. The Polish Authors' Association Member, poet, historian. Gratueted Jagiellonian University. Author of 15 poetry volumes. Rewarded many prizes for his work. His poems are translated into: English, Assamese, Belarusian, Chinese, Russian, Taiwanese, Telugu, Ukrainian, Uzbek, Italian and French. Published inter alia poetries, literary reviews, historical materials and prose in USA, Austria, India, UK, Ukraine, Uzbekistan.

Cash Desk of the Big Brother at the Station (2023)

 

Technique: digital painting

 

 

Bat

 

The time was over of happiness and endeavor

When the beautiful image disappeared forever.

Nothing is the same anymore

The dark shadow covered everything

Human life means nothing

When anything is without the meaning

Of the image worth dying for.

The dark animal spread its wings

Violet and scary is its movement

Through the space we once had

Together. Now the empty amusement

Follows us, while our days are dying

In the shadow of that flight.

I am always thinking how I loved

The image disappeared forever,

But love has not the power of the

Dream, to return what was once

Lost- disappeared, as the degradation

Of everything human is

Welcoming the honest population.

 

 Igor Pop Trajkov, North Macedonia

 

#dylanday

 

Igor   Pop   Trajkov   is   renowned   writer   and   film director   from   North Macedonia, multidisciplinary international artist as well. He is very prolific in all literary disciplines, including film reviews. Intellectualism, theory and activism are also part of his rich agenda. He was published in some of the most significant literary magazines and academic journals, and won few prizes for his achievements

 

 

Thanks For Our Life

 

When the dawn comes each day,

Exuberantly free and easy.

I'm always so excited,

“Thanks for life”

Tell myself gently.

Perhaps the world is really beautiful,

No lack of scrutiny.

More closer to nature,

More lighter like the caress.

But it’s too fresh and tender,

And easy to get greasy.

A pretty texture,

A bright melody.

A pot of tea,

A glass of Martini.

Seep into my sensitive pores all the time,

Will also have blooming swirls from chunky stiffs.

Thanks for our life,

Both you and me.

Wind can clean up our hearts,

Even if it sometimes lacks the soft waves.

Try to be sincere audiences,

Try to be trusted readers,

For ourselves,

For those beautiful words,

Need to speak.

Enjoy the time slowly

Like to taste a cup of coffee.

Let us realize this deeply:

Thanks for our life,

Thanks for our dreams!

 

 

 

James Tian, China/Philippines

 

#dylanday

 

田宇  - James Tian,  a young Chinese poet and translator. He is the representative of the art-literary movement IMMAGINE&POESIA in China. His works have been published in more than 50 newspapers and magazines in China and abroad and have been translated into many languages. Multi-awarded Poet. It is thanks to him that poets from different countries were heard in China, their voices in the form of their poems translated by James Tian are published in various Chinese magazines, and they take part in various poetry festivals.

 

 

 

A DREAM FROM THE GLASS

Translated into English by James Sutherland Smith

 

In the fading lustre

of the hotel Alcron, Prague

I watch

as you sleep at the bottom of a mirror.

a jasmine breeze

disseminates your visions,

it hums your mute desires.

 

All the radio stations

broadcast the beating of your heart.

In the receiver

of every telephone

your breath is heard.

On every television channel

they show

your sleeping face

live in the mirror of the hotel Alcron.

 

I am the television camera

of your glass sleep.

Your crystal dreams are dreamt by me.

 

Sparkling you drizzle on me.

Your naked ness is veiled

in a mist of hotel curtains

which in vain I try to blow away

with my last breath before I sleep.

 

It’s late.

 

Flying lovers

gently switch off

the great night city.

A dancing couple

of violet neon

twinkles drowsily

in the dark blue sky.

 

Diplomats

tailored in satin

and surfeited with soap bubbles

leave opera performances,

concert halls and receptions

and in limousines

constructed of air,

darkness and glittering stars

fly away like comets

to their state beds

in a twilight of ambassadors.

 

Garden parties finish.

The blossoming trees

drink from fountains.

 

In the squares

without shame or movement

statues from different eras,

genres and sizes

make love.

 

Tireless taxis, ambulances

and police vehicles

quietly sink to the river bed

while the frightened fish

turn on their alarm sirens

and switch on coloured beacons

of anxiety.

 

In the empty streets

delayed pleasure boats fly

full of trembling lights

and moor themselves

in the last empty shop windows.

 

It’s late.

 

From the highest floors of the heavens

leisurely and at length

flashing lanterns fall.

Phosphorescence shines

on the wings of night butterflies.

It sounds

as if a thousand solitary towers

breathed

the brassy midnight air.

 

So much would I like

to dream you, too.

 

 

PAVOL JANIK, SLOVAKIA

 

#dylanday

 

 

This virtuoso of Slovak literature, Pavol Janik, is a poet, dramatist, prose writer, translator, publicist and copywriter. His literary activities focus mainly on poetry. Pavol Janik’s literary works have been translated into 28 languages and published in 49 countries.

Dedicated to Dylan Thomas

Poems by Abdukakhor Kosim in Tajik

 

Ба Дилан Томас

 

Ба вазни торики обҳои хаёл,

Андар он варта хомӯшист малӯл,

Ӯ бипошида донаҳои умед,

Оне ки мекунад дуош расул.

 

Лек шоир бе ягон пурсиш,

Бо азобе кунад захм ямоқ.

На туро ёфта, на хешу на дӯст,

Талх мехонад аз замони фироқ.

 

Кушта ё зиндаи-ягона сухан-

мешавад ҳамнаво ба синаи ман.

Рӯи ту сурх қарнҳо монад,

Дар ду чашмони ту ҷилои Ватан.

 

 

Abdukakhor Kosim, Tajikistan

 

#dylanday

 

Poet, songwriter, journalist, publicist Abdukakhor Sattorovich  Kosimov  (Abdukakhor Kosim) was born  in the Vakhsh region of Tajikistan in the family of a blacksmith.

Nowadays he is a multi awarded writer.

His works have been translated into 30 languages and published in more than 50 countries.

He is a member several literary and humanirarian Associations such as FOWCAAS, CIESART, the Russian Academy of Literature, the Academy of Russian Literature and Literary Studies, the International Union of Writers, the International Union of People's Diplomacy MESND-Kazakhstan, etc.

 

 

Dylan Thomas

 

1

Trên giải Thiên hà bỗng tỏa sáng

Một ngôi sao sáng vừa chào đời

Dylan Thomas luôn khao khát

Hiến tặng tuổi Xuân cho cuộc đời

2

Kêu gọi mọi người nên biết sống

Từ chân trời Mỹ đến muôn nơi

Tự do dân chủ không là mộng

Hãy có nguồn thơ yêu cuộc đời

3

Tạo Hóa ban cho ta sự sống

Ta nên tôn trọng suốt đời ta

Mà Ngài cho tặng cho ta đó

Sống biết yêu đời biết vị tha

4

Chỉ có Dylan từng muốn được

Đem tình yêu đến cho đời ta

Thế nên gìn giữ lòng mơ ước

Có lẽ năm châu như một nhà 

5

Ta hãy noi gương mà bắt chước

Dylan Thomas biết  và hành

Ta nên ngắn gọn nhà thơ phải

Phải biết yêu đời yêu thế gian

*

HNC@All Rights Reserved.

*

Dylan Thomas  

 

1

On the Galaxy range suddenly shines

A star has just been born and shines

Dylan Thomas is always longing

For life, he donates all his spring

2

Calling everyone to know how to live here

From the American horizon to everywhere

Freedom and democracy are not a dream

Let's have a source of love poetry realms

3

Just as the Creator gives us life, 

I should respect our whole life

But He gave us all our life of altruistic

We live to love life to know altruistic

4

Just as only Dylan ever wanted to be

He brings love to our lives, you see

So keep your dreams alive, you know

As the five continents are one house

5

Just as let's follow the example and imitate

Just as Dylan Thomas knows and acts take

We should be brief the poet says to the world

We know to love life, we love over the world

 

 

HONG NGOC CHAU, Vietnam

 Ho Chi Minh City

 

#dylanday

 

Her true name is NGUYEN CHAU NGOC DOAN CHINH. Her Pen name is HONG NGOC CHA. (Vietnam)- She is a member of the Association of Writers of Ho Chi Minh City (Vietnam), Admin of W.U. P (World Union of Poets), the level of GENERAL COUNCILOR of the World Union of Poets with COORDINATORS SILVER MEDAL International Ambassador of the Cercle of the International Chamber of Writers & Artists...

 

 

 

 

THE FESTIVAL OF BASANT

(Gammo style of poetry)

 

The joys of spring

Dimitri is dancing

The festival of Basant

 

The kites are flying

In skies. Harvesting

The crops of wheat.

 

The grass is green,

Peasants in celebration

Drinking the wine.

 

Girls, for the occasion,

Cooking sweets in

The colors are shining.

 

It’s a party night

Under the moonlight

Around the campfire.

 

Blossoming, the heart

Dances full bright

In yellow dress.

 

Music in full bloom

Shaka boom boom

On the muddy floor.

 

Let us celebrate—

We already ate

Desserts and motichoor!

 

 

Dr Naila Hina, Pakistan

 

#dylanday

 

Dr Naila Hina

Former Engineering University Instructor, an international award-winning author of 100+ multilingual books, a poet from Karachi, Pakistan.

Best Writer of the Decade, editor, translator. Literary Captain at Story. Nominated for Nobel Prize for Literature 2022. 

 

 

 

HIPNOS se estremece…

 

Por la vertiente de los sueños luctuosos
caen las gotas austeras de la razón.

 

Sueño fingido en la integridad del pensamiento nocturno,
parcialidad de los lucíferos obstáculos.

 

ÉREBO inmanente a ÉTER
trae consigo la vigilia racional previa al delirio…  

 

Y musita: « − ¡Enfulláis al intelecto con cierto proyecto carente de realidad operatoria! »

 

Posición de ineludible sentencia la que se aguarda SELENE en su HADES
ceremonioso.

 

Anhelos de aletargada lucidez…

 

Vigilia, espejismo, tormento pacífico.

 

Insomnio soluble.
Sofisticado alcance de una yerma letanía

 

¿Goyesca realidad?

 

TREGUA DE LIBERTAD QUE EVOCAS

                   «EROS»

 

Lúdicos  encuentros en tu amordazado intelecto
desde una persistente onírica cautividad.  

 

Llegas sin haber estado, ni acaso fuiste,
sonámbulo entre bambalinas caprichosas.

 

Canción de alcoba sobre el tiempo que dormido aprendes.
Quebradiza canción de la muerte sin letrilla…

 

Vuelas sobre la fragilidad de tus efímeros pensamientos hacia un velado despertar.

 

Escenas de magma entre artificios de inerte inmortalidad. 

 

_DESAFÍO ILUSORIO_

 

Despiertas y nada percibes de aquella realidad cavernaria.

 

En el coloquio de una somnolencia diurna

cabe el diálogo de una pétrea fatiga lupina.

 

En tiempos soñados ensordecidos,
presos ante la ceguera de la razón humana.

 

«Yo traje el patrón de los sueños para el despertar de tus delicias».

 

Se envilecen neciamente los sentidos.

 

        ¡EROS del albor eviterno!

 

Tránsito del SER en vuelta sin ida.

 

 

Esbozo dentro de esta ESCAFANDRA COLECTIVA.
Desde un yo inconcluso de formas. Materia de la discordia.
Tránsfugo MORFEO desalentado.
Centinela de nuestro THANATOS redentor… 

 

María Calle Bajo, Spain

 

#dylanday

 

 

La filóloga y artista española María Calle Bajo reside en la ciudad del Tormes. En su función educativa ha formado parte del área I+D+i de Cursos Internacionales de la Universidad de Salamanca. La editorial Buenos Aires Poetry publicó sus poemarios Semillas (2020), Calíope (2021) y Medallón (2022).