Hasnaa Ettour 

Writing By Sir MLY Moulay Cherif Chebihi Hassani  

### Mirror of the Soul: The Diversity of Faces

In the midst of life, we experience varied moments that shape our identity. Each moment, every smile, and every tear reflects a new aspect of our souls. The soul is like a mirror, portraying the diversity of faces we wear, changing its character according to the situation, time, and place. Behind each face lies a story; behind every smile, there’s pain, joy, or sadness.

Life unfolds as a poignant mix of laughter and tears, joy and sorrow, inviting us to explore our depths. Are we truly who we think we are? Or is it the diversity of faces that defines our true identity?

Faces are different, but emotions are universal. Each of us carries a burden of experiences, be it a fleeting spark or a deep wound. The soul manifests in our interactions, revealing new colors on the canvases of our lives. In reality, no single face can encapsulate all those complexities. We are in constant transformation, even amidst apparent stillness.

When we glance honestly into the mirror of the soul, we discover that the diversity of faces is not a flaw but a blessing. It reflects the richness of the human experience. Thus, we must embrace our multifaceted existence and learn that each face expresses a fragment of our being. There's no need to choose just one face; we can hold onto all those faces as parts of our unique narrative.

Give the Title by S Afrose

 

Give the title!!!

How Sweet!
Your thoughts your passion,
The Love Lotus blooms,
For spreading its aroma,
With a new caption.
What's that caption?
Want to know
Still unaware.
How?
Give the title.

Yeah!
Time to Time,
May it glitter,
With a new prospect,
Heartly accepted this term.

Ouch!
Heart cries.
Mind doesn't allow this time,
Forgetting the sweet rhyme of the writes,
Of the dearest paradise.
Yeah!
There's a garden of Writes.
Where dream plays with its charm,
With all flowers as dearest lovely arts,
For making the dreamy tower of Writes.

Five minutes Five fingers,
Now tell the time,
Fume of heart,
Aura of love,
Give the title, sweetheart! 

Biography

Author S. Afrose from Bangladesh.  She published Author of 32 poetry books available on Amazon Worldwide.  Her writes have been published on Intl platforms as usual. Poetry is her passion.

Published by Tamikio L. Dooley

Fabiane Linhares( Brasil  e Aziz Mountassir(Marrocos )

When Love Defies the Distance

I don't know if love will come

When the stars come down.

There are so many distances even though

The moon understands its clarity.

But there may be a time

After the tears where

The kiss dawns in beauty.

I don't know if love will stay

When the sun hides its ray,

But through shadows deep and gray,

I’ll wait for light to find its way.

Though the oceans whisper despair,

And silence fills the trembling air,

Somewhere beyond the endless night,

Love will rise with tender light.

What is distance but a veil?

A fleeting cloud, a fragile trail—

For hearts that beat in harmony

Know no bounds, no boundary.

Each tear may carve a path unknown,

But through the dark, our roots have grown.

And when the winds of sorrow cease,

The kiss will bring eternal peace.

Perhaps the stars will guide us there,

Through heaven's breath, through whispered prayer.

Or maybe love, in its design,

Will stitch your soul into mine.

The galaxies may spin apart,

Yet still I’ll feel your steady heart.

For every breath and every sigh,

Will keep our hope beneath the sky.

Oh, let the heavens break and bend,

Let time and space begin to blend.

For love was made to overcome,

To sing when all the world is numb.

And if the world should fade to dust,

And stars dissolve as all things must,

Even then, I’ll hold you near,

Beyond the edge of time and fear.

So let the moon keep watch above,

A witness to undying love.

For even if the worlds divide,

I’ll find you on the other side.

Fabiane Linhares( Brasil  e Aziz Mountassir(Marrocos )

 NEVER TO PART

Here are the memories of our exuberant night

Holding onto the beautiful dreams 

Where love began under the stars and the moonlight 

Enjoying the night trysts 

and the pleasurable strides 

Fulfilled with the loves first blush 

We’re made to live in each other’s heart

Never to leave our hands in a rush

Destined to meet and never to part

Your magic charms don’t fail to amaze 

With stirred passions afire to burn 

For all the time I’m held in your gaze

Like pulsing embers of wanton yearn

Holding you in my arms with love so true 

Our hearts entwined forever in love as I do….!

Copyright: Parvinder Nagi

 Dr Prasana Kumar Dalai@India

THE SOUL OF MY LIFE!

Your soul forces me to keep on walking 

In my dejected and gloomy world

Even the seas are thirsty and famished 

The nectar is in the beauty of your eyes

Can I paint your image or write a poem 

An amalgamation of hues and rhythms 

You're the beat of my innocent heart

And the very soul of my mortal life 

Your breath is as fragrant as blooms

Your arms have the softness of lotus 

The brightness of sunray is in the face

A deer I do find in your gracefulness 

Your love can stich up my torn heart.

©️®️Dr Prasana Kumar Dalai@India

 

Ada Rizzo 

Beyond That Wall

A wind of hatred blows  

a chilly mantle over the Earth  

Violence darkens the sky  

suffocates the heart of every man.  

No more bridges, houses, childlike voices  

only walls and stones and blood  

mute spectators of mothers' torment.  

A long sequence of moments marks the horror.  

The future has surrendered.  

Where is the love that shone like the summer sun?  

Where is the beauty, the art that illuminated everything?  

The gaze perceives the futility of another stupid war  

battles with no winners no losers,  

scorched earth and tears of lead over lives erased forever.  

My soul remains silent but does not surrender...  

it is beyond that wall, beyond every war.  

Under that sky, one day, love will warm men  

under that sky, one day  

peace will break out!  

26/11/2024 - Ada Rizzo - All rights reserved

®️Dr Prasana Kumar Dalai @ India

 SADNESS IN THE DARKNESS !

Memories flood back as I think of her

My life filled with sadness in darkness 

We lighted the divine lamp of pure love 

Heard footsteps coming but far away 

I stood alone, restless with excitement 

And with the anticipation of her coming

Many a time I have been betrayed 

As she approaches with lowered glance 

My heart starts burning with rolling tears 

In spite of this a smile comes forcefully 

When she comes to smile in my dreams

With her separation I have lost my life

The flame burning but the light is lost

I do console my heart in the love poems

I write to express myself in darkness .

©️®️Dr Prasana Kumar Dalai @ India.

 

The last laugh

Poet :Khan Hasnain Aaqib 

Life is a tiny magical box 

Which contains a handful of stocks 

Of myriad feelings and emotions 

With contrasting epithets and notions 

If we dig a hole, deep, too deep 

Due to darkness inside we can't peep 

Sometimes not to dig the hole deeper 

Is evidently wiser and of course better 

Laughter is that precious treasure

Coming out in cautious measure 

Sometimes a laughter is borrowed 

From someone very precious like a gem 

If that person is not with us 

The moment he ceases to be with you 

That is the last laugh

Dra. Janeth Elizarraraz

 SOY TU RESPUESTA 

Soy libro abierto,  

descubre en mi,

los versos 

más intensos 

de nuestra historia 

y subráyalos, 

para resaltarlos. 

Ámame 

aún observando

mis errores 

en esta lectura, 

ya que son 

punto y aparte.

Porque yo

soy tu mejor verbo, 

el núcleo de tu predicar; 

verbo conjugado 

que concuerda 

con tus ideales; 

lo que resalta 

en  tu vida 

y que describes 

con comillas “amor”.

Olvida los signos 

de interrogación;

porque yo fui

 y soy la respuesta 

a tu oración.

Derechos Reservados:

Dra. Janeth Elizarraraz.

 THE SUFI OF NIGHT

Dr.Zainul Husain

The Sufi of  night  is raptured

In the fathomless depths of austerity.

The dangling waterlillies of stars

Become his garland to glorify his serenity.

The Sufi is lost in a mysterious meditation.

A howling hyena and the cacophony of cicada

All this hustle and bustle of nocturnal animals

Can't distract his spiritual concentration.

After completing this worship of twilight zone,

The Sufi will leave

To come back again

Leaving behind the offering of a sacred sunrise.

 Dr.Zainul Husain

 Copyright, India

 © Aminu Femi Jamiu

STALE NIGHT 

At the wee hour

Of a stale night 

When darkness 

Buried the stars

Beyond silent silk

That my soul sail

Burrowed and lay

At the palm of love.

Undulating like ripples

I oscillate along the tide

Of a beautiful beginning 

To the path of unknown

Like the moon in the sky

I basked in the lone night 

Musing like a bereaved owl.

The fang of love sting me

Ocean of emotion drown me

The arc of darkness eluded me 

But the soul of night embrace me.

© Aminu Femi Jamiu

All Right Reserved

XXVI-I-MMXXV.

Ann Marie Hansraj 

 Her Return

She walked in alone,

a shadow of strength wrapped in silence,

bearing the weight of whispers unseen

the past lingering like smoke in the air.

Eyes pierced her skin,

curious, cold, judgmental,

etching questions they dared not ask aloud:

Who is she? Why is she here?

They spoke of her,

not knowing it was she standing there.

She was eye-catching,

no eyes could miss her beauty,

the sophistication woven seamlessly

with simplicity and grace.

Her humble ways shimmered quietly,

yet the energy of her presence

lit up the room like dawn breaking.

They gossiped,

voices laced with venom,

forgetting truth has a way

of slipping through cracks.

How quick they were to cast stones

at what they didn’t understand.

Then she stood face to face

with an aunt who remembered

joy unveiled itself like dawn breaking.

Their laughter shattered the hush,

turning suspicion into shame.

One by one, they lowered their eyes,

their words folding in on themselves.

This was the woman

they washed their mouths with,

the one they abandoned,

dismissed as "never enough."

But here she was,

more than they had dreamed,

more than their limited minds imagined.

She had climbed mountains alone,

built empires from ashes,

and still, her heart remained soft,

untouched by bitterness.

They bowed their heads,

not in reverence, but in regret,

for their words had betrayed them,

and now truth stood unshaken before them.

Her journey was never about revenge,

but triumph

the quiet, sacred kind

that blooms within the soul.

And as they watched her walk on,

humble yet fierce,

they learned this truth:

No fire born of judgment

can consume a spirit that refuses to break.

Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj 

Annmariewrites.com 

#0030  Copyright 2025

 Title:- Fidgety of peace 

Poet:- Dr. Laxmikanta Dash, India 

Date:- 31/0

Life is anxious to restore peace 

It has an inherent tendency to achieve world bliss 

Any types of war and destruction ruins life 

Invites social catastrophe with various strifes.

Humbleness of peace gives social happiness 

It boost moral stamina for world beautiness 

Resurgence of peace is a vital process 

Everyone gets charm of life without world distress.

Peace is a panacea which cures social difference 

It spreads majestic power and soothing fragrance 

Its vibrant attraction sparkles the world conscious 

Makes fraternity to achieve world beautious.

The gleaming power of peace evaporates dirty particles 

Its main motto how peace will sustain in world circle 

For this reason fidgety comes in peace realm 

It gives lotion to the world like pain balm.

Copyright ©️ reserved

Ann Marie 

 The Beauty of Less

With age, wisdom softly blooms,

Life’s lessons etched in quiet rooms.

Each moment, a patient guide,

Teaching truths we can't deny.

Complex paths once held allure,

Now simplicity feels more pure.

Chaos fades when we release

The need for noise, the thirst for ease.

Toxic spaces lose their hold,

As hearts seek warmth, not bitter cold.

Stress dissolves like morning mist,

When joy and peace exist.

Less is more—a timeless truth,

Not measured by fleeting youth,

But by love, sincere and bright,

And souls aligned with God's pure light.

Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj 

Annmariewrites.com 

#0031  Copyright 2025

 Inside the Space and Outside the House

By   James Tian

There’re only two kinds of people in this world:

Those inside the house, dancing in warmth,

And those outside, watching but unable to do anything,

Leaving in a cold and hungry style…

Inside, people grew restless with boredom,

So at some point, a rule was set—

Every cycle, the “host” of the house would change.

Outside, people shivered in hunger,

Until someone noticed—

Watching the inside folk switch “host”,

Was oddly thrilling, even uplifting.

So the crowd outside grew, watching and waiting…

From the windows, the insiders saw the gathering outside,

And it gave their boredom a peculiar kind of relief.

They slipped paper scraps through the door crack,

Each marked with the names of those within,

Calling it a chance for the outsiders to “elect”.

And from time to time, leftovers from the feast inside,

Would be tossed out,

Becoming the ultimate prize for those in the cold.

At that moment, the ones outside forgot about the wall before them,

While those inside found yet another way to amuse themselves.

In truth, the “ownership” of the house,

Was never really in question.

The insiders never saw the outsiders as having a say,

Yet the ones outside—stuffing their choices through the door crack—

Began to believe they’re the true “host” of the house…

Inside and outside,

Two worlds that barely touch.

Yet “perception” stretches the confidence of those outside,

Into the space within.

And so, when the insiders draw the curtains, seal the cracks,

The outsiders cry, “That’s injustice! The emperor’s new clothes!”

But when the curtains are lifted, the door left ajar,

The outsiders cheer, “That’s freedom! The miracle of white doves!”

The last names inside the house,

Have never truly changed.

But the whole names outside are circling like the wind.

Yet no one asks what this house was built for,

Because the Habit will become Tradition,

The Tradition will turn into Faith,

And the Faith will grow into the Rules—

Then the Yoke is placing upon every mind that dares to turn…

Dra. H. C. Alicia de la Paz Ortiz Cuevas 

Presidenta del CLUB POETAS DE LATINOAMÉRICA de MÉXICO sede TAXCO DE ALARCÓN GUERRERO MÉXICO 

•Coordinadora del Comité Estatal GUERRERO de la Federación Internacional de Comunicadores con sede en TAXCO de ALARCÓN GUERRERO MÉXICO

 El tiempo perfecto 

Hoy otro bendito despertar 

el Sol arriba encantador

resguardada en un hogar

agradecida con el Creador...

Reflexiones al brote

ocupan mi pensamiento 

quizás al andar no se note

pero en dicha me siento.

El tiempo perfecto de Dios 

nos invita a ser mejores

a no tirar la talla los dos

sino a vivir sinsabores 

sin rencores acuñados.

El tiempo perfecto de Dios...

Poetisa de Plata de Taxco 

Alicia de la Paz Ortiz Cuevas

Dra. H. C. Alicia de la Paz Ortiz Cuevas 

Presidenta del CLUB POETAS DE LATINOAMÉRICA de MÉXICO sede TAXCO DE ALARCÓN GUERRERO MÉXICO 

•Coordinadora del Comité Estatal GUERRERO de la Federación Internacional de Comunicadores con sede en TAXCO de ALARCÓN GUERRERO MÉXICO

No conozco 

Me lancé sobre objetivo

sin conocer su pasado

sin escrutar si es dativo

o uno más improvisado.

Cómo la noche y el día 

apareció en un instante

en su mirada tenía

el afán de ser galante.

En ese tiempo presente

se encontraba el adversor 

y una tarde contra impertinente 

se tornó mi defensor...

Más callaron sus labios

el sentir que lo invadía 

más como el buen sabio

Alicia lo descubría...

No conozco sus andanzas

pero si su trayectoria 

sus propósitos que avanza

en legado que será historia...

Poetisa de Plata de Taxco 

Dra. H. C. Alicia de la Paz Ortiz Cuevas

Presidenta del CLUB POETAS DE LATINOAMÉRICA de MÉXICO sede TAXCO DE ALARCÓN GUERRERO MÉXICO 

*Derechos Reservados de Autora

 PALMA PAPA

italiana,nacida en Calabria

Residente en Argentina

SAN ISIDRO-Pcia.Bs.As.

Fundadora y vicepresidenta de ASOCIACIàN ITALIANA-CALABRES-SAN ISIDRO..

Presidente de ASORBAEX Argentina

por la Pcia.Bs.As.

Embajadora cultural.

Mujer Girasol-Asorbaex-Madrid-España

Embajadora del Circulo Universal de LA PAZ-FRANCE-Presidente

Gabriellini Simone.

Escritora.

Fundadora del Foro Mundial narradores y poetas del Mercosur.

Cultura de Extremo a Extremo.ROSARIO

Escritora y socia sede delegación SAN ISIDRO.

Fundadora del programa AYUDARNOS A AYUDAR..

Embajadora Paz Pax Paz Arte y Cultura

Embajadora  se paz  federación  UPF Argentina

Directora. Ejecutiva y Embajadora Itinerante  de  la

Paz  CON.L.E.A.M

Embajadora  de  Cultura y Paz Forum of

 creativity and Humanity  IFCH

Amo a mi Patria

Dulce me es contemplarte, Calabria.

Luces de colores, flores, mares y colinas.

Voces de un dulce eco,

que lejos de mí llama…

Melodía italiana.

Aire amigo, después del cansancio

de un larga calle.

Brisa en mi camino

de esperanza.

A la sombra de un tibio sol

de tus recuerdos,

me reposo

y te recuerdo.

Recuerdo

tu espíritu de libertad y de eternidad,

la suavidad de tu encanto,

desde la altura en la inmensidad…

Recuerdo la ciudad de Sangineto

las ciudades de arte, gastronomía, filósofos.

En el viento los perfumes de rosas,

lavandas, azahares

y te puedo decir

que recuerdo también

a tus hombres llevar

un dolor arcano

al lado del mar,

en los campos cultivados

en las colinas verdes.

El calor y la alegría del sur.

En cada parte un patrono,

una procesión, las flores que se ofrecen,

Para la felicidad de todos

de tu rudo corazón nacieron.

Gente de Calabria, laboriosa y sabia.

Quien se quedó allí sobre la piedra muere;

quien la dejó por siempre perdió su corazón.

Calabria! Dios te puso a los pies de Italia

como para sostenerla.

Sos del Tirreno al Jónico

la perla más precio

Dra. Palma Papa

Buenos aires San isidro

Orlando Simiele

 "On the wings of love" 

A soul is there compromised 

it twirls on itself. 

Suddenly he resigns himself before the rain draw his face. Those tears of hers they are rhymes of his pain. 

They turn into storms in the heart while everything around dies. 

Circumstances change, distances overwhelm you,

the shortcomings arrive, 

but the dances of this love made of wings will continue to fly in his loving in these veils of his of hopes in these celestial skies of his. 

I feel on the wings of this love. 

I want everyone to feel it “on the wings of love which lies within us and is never silent."

 Orlando Simiele

" TRUE TRANSPARENCY "

 Being born, 

growing up, writing, 

making an impact in dance 

of being yourself. 

This is the essence! 

Laugh without mocking,

share without dividing, 

live and relive, exasperate, scream, burst without any arrogance, 

without killing; 

but sing, sing high melodies destined for streets of that peace that in its wake never and never remains silent.

Talk in presence without gossip.

 Navigate in the dark of the sea. 

Rowing, returning to land in trying to smooth it out every conflict and pretext for waging war. 

Overcoming difficulties

even in dreams. 

Emotion under the skin the most beautiful people,

love in the incandescence 

of the stars. 

Orlando Simiele

BIOGRAPHY :

Orlando Simiele is an author, poet, writer, graduated h.c in Philology and Literary Criticism, Graduated h.c in Literature and Philosophy, Graduated h.c in Communication Sciences applied to Journalism and graduated h.c in Ambassador of Poets and Writers.

He is also an Academic Senator, noble Duke. 

He was born in Caserta on March 12, 1986 in Italy,and for about twenty years spent his childhood and adolescence in Persano (Sa).

He has always had a great passion for poetry. 

Since childhood on a pocket diary he composed various sentences in the form of rhyming couplets that over the years then in adolescence became the most special essence turning into increasingly complete texts and pursued by him until today.He is a native Italian.Today he lives and works in France near Geneva.

He has also created two books (poetic anthologies), namely: "Frammenti d'amore" in the year 2016 with the publishing house "Il Saggio" located in Eboli in the province of Salerno in Italy and "La Fonte della vita" in the year 2018 always with the same publishing house.

Has also participated in various national and international literature and poetry competitions, sometimes reaching the top positions in Italy and on an international level he has obtained first places three times.

Orlando Simiele

 *A un cantante improvisado*

Presidenta del CLUB POETAS DE LATINOAMÉRICA-MEXICO SEDE TAXCO DE ALARCÓN GUERRERO

1)

A un cantante improvisado

le dedico mi obacion 

por lo que su voz ha causado

en mi plata corazón. 

Compungida de oírle 

es su sentir un ejemplo

desde aquí ansio decirle

su voz se torna un templo.

Dónde quiera que se encuentre

va dejando un legado

que nuestro actuar de centre

pro un mundo unificado...

2)

Cuando digo amor...

Cuando decimos AMOR

es un entregarlo todo

nuestro yo en un clamor

con particular modo...

Cuando decimos 

AMOR

el alma se fortalece

soledad, temor

entre el viento fenecen.

Cuando decimos 

AMOR

nada se le equipara

ni la joya del emperador 

ni la mansión que comprara.

Cuando decimos 

AMOR

con fidedigno sentimiento 

la luna fundida en sol al tenor 

de dos bocas, un aliento...

3)

Un bonito día

Con un ingrediente puedes

generar un bonito día 

solo uno, tu eres

constructor de propia travesía.

Acaso mejor prefieres 

ser un cobarde más

siempre Dios sugiere 

apostarle a donde vas.

Ten fé y tendrás tu meta

da atenciones y serás ejemplo

sentirás tu vida completa

y a tu hogar un templo...

Poetisa de Plata de Taxco 

Alicia de la Paz Ortiz Cuevas 

Presidenta del CLUB POETAS DE LATINOAMÉRICA-MEXICO SEDE TAXCO DE ALARCÓN GUERRERO

Clarena Martínez Turizo

 MÁS ALLÁ DE TU MIRADA.

La tarde está encantada

tiembla de felicidad.

porque halle en tu vida 

muchas bondad.

El encanto de tu sonrisa

me ha hecho soñar con esos 

labios fantásticos 

me haces suspirar.

Amo cada uno de tus gestos

tu manera de andar, 

tu dulzura me atrapa me 

hace vibrar.

Más allá de tu mirada amo 

tu sensibilidad, 

el dulce olor de tu piel,

tu manera de amar.

Invades mis sentidos,

eres  mi hermoso  torbellino

de tulipán, fragante en 

cada paso mi amado galán.

Autora: Clarena Martínez Turizo.

País : Colombia

Tema : MAS ALLÁ DE TU MIRADA.

Derechos reservados

Magangue Bolívar 12-01-2025 Hr 6:40 Pm

                  NINA ZARKOVA

Небето днес е черно, сиво.

Светофарът тъжен е червен.

София е зимно мързелива

в този мрачен януарски ден.

Бездомните софийски птици

нахранвам щедро със трошици.

Поздравявам всеки минувач,

бродещ в обедния зимен здрач.

И неусетно чудо става.

Песни птиците запяват.

Усмихват се така щастливо

на мен и на небето сиво.

     (С)(R) Всички авторски 

      права запазени!

Нейно Превъзходителство

Дама Офицер Проф. Д-р (х.к)

Амб. НИНА ЗАРКОВА

HE D.K.M.A. Prof.Dr.(h.c.) Amb.

NINA ZARKOVA

 Author: Tamikio L. Dooley

 Author: Tamikio L. Dooley is a multi-award-winning author. She is the author of 150 titles and 100 published books. The author writes fiction and nonfiction of crime, thriller, mystery, fantasy, historical, western, romance, zombie apocalypse, and paranormal. In her spare time, she writes short stories, poetry, articles, essays, health books, and children’s books, diaries, journals, inspiring books, culture, African American, and history books.

Literacy Publications: She is the founder and publisher of CreatiVIngenuitiy Magazine, and InSight Magazine, the founder of Coffee Talk Poetry, the editor of Friendship of People Magazine, part of the Editorial Board of Orfeu Magazine, part of the Editorial Board for The Wordsmith Magazine, chief editor of Sauvarna Magazine, and the editor of (IFCH International Forum for Creativity and Humanity Blog) Kingdom of Morocco.

Organizations: Tamikio is the President and Founder of Humanist of the World Organization, and the president and founder of Empowering Education Skills and Programs Organization. She is also the Director of the Cultural and Artistic Field of the International Forum for Creativity Humanity Kingdom of Morocco, part of the Advisory Board, and an Affiliate/Ambassador for the World Healing, World Peace Foundation, and the Exhibition Coordinator and Curator for the Writers Capital International Foundation.

 Features: Tamikio is featured in Humanity Magazine, CreatiVIngenuitiy Magazine, Kidliomag, Friendship of People Magazine, Connections E-Magazine, The World of Myth Magazine, Orfeu Magazine, along with other magazines and newspapers.

Certificates: She has received awards and certificates for her works published in Bard’s Day Key Anthology, People’s Poetry Parliament, Antologia (a anthology published in Italian), and Multinational Pen Soldiers Poetry Anthology.  

Artist: Tamikio L. Dooley is an artist. She creates acrylic, colored-pencil, oil, sketch, and watercolor artwork. Her piece of acrylic artwork called Autumn is featured in Evolucionarts “Fire” Exhibition in September 2024, and her acrylic paintings called Birds of the Seas, and Blue Coast, are featured in Evolucionarts “Water” Exhibition in November 2024. She is also an Exhibition Curator for Evolucionarts Arts International Fine Arts Exhibition. Tamikio is the Chief Coordinator representing the USA art and literature community for the Writers Capital International Foundation. Three of her art pieces are featured in the Panorama International Literature Festival 2025. She is the author of Rhythm of Art 2024, Artistic Vision Magazine 2024, and Colorful World Korean Artist Magazine 2024.

Poem 

~The Woman in the Water~

At midnight, a woman awoke to see a mysterious man gesturing to her from her bedroom window. Her delicate pearl nightgown swept the polished black floor as she walked to the window and left the house.

Tranquil, expectant waves greeted them at the lake. The man transformed into a dark shadow while the woman and man waited. As a gentle wind stirred her nightgown and wavy hair, he took the woman’s hand.

He tugged the woman toward the water’s edge. Suddenly barefoot, the man walked on the water. Though still sleepy, the woman’s eyes widened in disbelief as she felt the icy water against her bare feet. Further into the water, the man continued to guide her. As moonlight glinted, they vanished.

  Munira Sultan

WHO AM I? 

Who am I?

Shall I tell you who I am?

I feel burning inside as if 

hiding Alexander's secret*,

Days pass making my mind hurry;

 Who I am, who I really am,

I am a well, suffering. 

I am silent in the eyes of the righteous, 

Awaiting the light with patience.

My desire is complete, my dream is complete, 

Intention is impartial, imagination is an ocean. 

Every night spent in prayer, 

I will meet the morning. 

I forgot all of my sadness 

If they remember, so will I all the time. 

This painful pen of mine, 

I will take care even if the tip breaks. 

*— A well with reeds that is said to have Alexander's horn. 

 Munira Sultan 

    

  

UZBEKISTAN-TASHKENT- BEKABAD

LONELY...

My thoughts were taken away by these "pains", 

I am alone with them, I have no confidence. 

The wards in the heart raised up a riot, 

No comfort, not even fake joy. 

A painful sigh lingers in my throat,

I can't even cry, not even tears.

Sorrows throw their stones at me,

Will it survive, a little heart?

Where are my feelings leaving me alone?

There was no encouragement, I was left alone.

My thoughts are hard, my heart has pain,

Flying to the skies, heartless.

I speak only with my secrets,

I planted a dream flower on the grave of my heart.

With my weak words in my heart, 

I look up at the sky awaiting the light.

I didn't see the "light", it's all in the lost,                    

I couldn't calm down, even my patience

The heart says: "At least laugh in fake."

Even my value sheds tears for me.

 Munira Sultan

                             UZBEKISTAN-TASHKENT—BEKABAD

 بقلم الفنانه المغربيه خديجة الخليفي

                           ✍️ متحف الدواخل..

يا عاشق الصوت.. 

لو غاب عنك صوت، وكنت مقتنعا بأنك تحضن ذبذباته، وكنت متأكدا أنه ساكن بمسامعك وبدواخلك. فجأة  تنفجر صرخة، تزلزل حواسك وعواطفك.

يا عاشق الصوت..

نعم تنفجر الصرخة، تبحث عن مبعث صداها، فتعلم أنها قادمة من عمقك، من متحفك، حيث كنت مطمئنا على أشيائك وخصوصياتك..

يا عاشق الصوت..

إلى متى يستطيع متحفنا الاحتفاظ بالأصوات؟ أصوات من نحب؟! وأصوات الراحلين عنا؟!

يا عاشق الصوت.. 

متحف الإنسان، متحف راق،  به جواهر قيمة تختلف عن تلك التي يحفظ المتحف فوق الأرض تاريخها.. فكيف لي ولك يا عاشق الصوت أن نحمي أصواتنا في عمقنا؟! كيف لي ولك أن نتذكر أصواتا عشقناها؟!

كيف لي ولك ألا نتوه عن بعضنا وكلانا يستنشق دواخل متحفنا؟! كيف لي ولك أن نصون متحف دواخلنا وكلانا يستنشق دواخل متحفنا؟!

بقلم خديجة الخليفي

#المتحف

#متحف_الدواخل 

#الدواخل

#الأصوات

#الإنسان

 تحية مجددة

✍️

المسار الفني للمغربية خديجة الخليفي

خديجة الخليفي، من مواليد مدينة سلا، فنانة تشكيلية مغربية. انطلقت أولى مشاركاتي الفنية من مدينة الدار البيضاء، سنة 2018، ضمن معارض تشكيلية جماعية، تنوعت شعاراتها، خدمة للذائقة الإنسانية والهوية الوطنية. أما الجهات المنظمة، والتي كان لي شرف المشاركة تحت لوائها، أذكر منها على سبيل المثال، لا الحصر: كلية علوم التربية، جمعية منار العنق للفنون، جمعية منتدى الشباب، جمعية فنون النخيل للثقافة والتضامن، جمعية زهور للإبداع والثقافة، مدارات للثقافة والفنون ومجلة التشكيلي بالمغرب، جمعية واحة الفنون، مؤسسة عياد لمهور للتربية والثقافة والفنون، ملتقى آسفي الدولي للسلام تراث وإبداع، كلية العلوم بمكناس...

ساهمت المشاركات الفنية التشكيلية في بناء تجربتي وتعميقها، لتعمل جاهدة على الإسهام في عملية تلبية نداءات الثقافة، محاولة بذلك معانقة كل من الفن والسلام والإنسانية. وتصل مشاركاتي الفنية الجماعية إلى 65 مشاركة، تجمع بين الملتقيات الفنية الواقعية والافتراضية.

من بين أعمالي الفنية والتي وقعتها منذ سنة 2017: تصالح، مياه الأمل، ابتسامة مختلفة، صمود، الانتماء، ليلة هادئة، دندنة، إلى اللازورد، لوحات عطر الأنوثة، السلام، الحياة، التشبث بالحياة، شجرة التمني، دنيا ربما 1 و2، حبل الود، مرآة الحياة، رؤيا، إشراقة الأمل، نافورة التفاؤل.

في هذا الإطار، كتب الأديب والفنان التشكيلي الأستاذ لحسن ملواني، مقالا عن تجربتي الفنية، وكان بعنوان: ملمح السكينة في تجربة التشكيلية المغربية خديجة الخليفي. أصدرت المقال ورقيا، جريدة القدس العربي في 11 مارس سنة 2020.

كما تناولت مجلة مصرية لصاحبها الحاج علوي، ضمن نشرة غير دورية، تهتم بالخط العربي والفن التشكيلي، في نسختها 23 سنة 2020، التعريف بتجربتي الفنية. أما النشرة، فكان عنوانها "نافذة على الإبداع المغربي" – الجزء الثاني. والإشراف عليها، فكان للأستاذة سعيدة الكيال.

كما نشر بعض أعمالي الفنية ضمن مجلة السلام الدولية في نسختها الثامنة سنة 2020، ص 4091-4094. كما كان للوحة تصالح ظهور على غلاف كتاب الأديب المغربي مصطفى لغتيري. أما الكتاب، فيحمل عنوان "محاولة البحث عن المعنى".

إلى جانب الريشة، يأخذني القلم إلى دنيا الأدب، فكتبت خواطر وقصصا ومقالات وانطباعات فنية، تناولتها بعض المنابر الرقمية مثل: عبور، مغرب الثقافة، العربي الآن، دليل الكتاب، الملتقى العربي للأدباء. مجلة اتحاد كتاب الانترنت المغاربة، جامعة المبدعين العرب. كما نشرت لي "مدارت الثقافية"، وهي من المجلات الثقافية المحكمة، نصا بعنوان "لعبة التركيب"، وذلك احتفاء باليوم العالمي للعربية.

كما تناولت مجلة السلام الدولية الرقمية ضمن العدد الثامن سنة 2020، في صفحاتها 721-724، قصتين من توقيعي: شجرة التمني، وأنانية الخريف.

وصدر لي ورقيا قصة "ريحانة"، نشرتها جريدة بيان اليوم، سنة 2021، العدد 4298. كما تم تتويجي بشهادة من طرف المركز المتوسطي للأبحاث، إثر فوز قصة لي بعنوان العمق الهادئ، نشرت في كتاب جماعي يحمل عنوان الكلام المباح سنة 2019.

وأضيف إلى هذا، قصة نافورة التفاؤل، التي نشرت في مجلة الريادة التربوية في عددها الأول سنة 2021، وهي دورية تربوية سنوية تصدر عن الثانوية التأهيلية فرخانة – بالناظور. المجلة من إعداد الدكتور حسن الطويل والأستاذ محمد أيت  حمو.

ولا تزال الرحلة قائمة، ولا يزال البناء قائما. ودائما أقول: إن الحرف واللون توأمان، يبحثان عن الثقة. فإذا ما وثقوا، ابتسموا!

بقلم خديجة الخليفي

#المسار_الفني

#السيرة_الفنية

 Poem : 

The last laugh

Poet :Khan Hasnain Aaqib 

Life is a tiny magical box 

Which contains a handful of stocks 

Of myriad feelings and emotions 

With contrasting epithets and notions 

If we dig a hole, deep, too deep 

Due to darkness inside we can't peep 

Sometimes not to dig the hole deeper 

Is evidently wiser and of course better 

Laughter is that precious treasure

Coming out in cautious measure 

Sometimes a laughter is borrowed 

From someone very precious like a gem 

If that person is not with us 

The moment he ceases to be with you 

That is the last laugh

Hamid Reza Akbari( Shrve

 : نگشته ام

از تمام این خیابان 

نسروده ام

از دل خسته ی شاعران 

و با دهان های  کرایه ای

نرخی  تعیین نکرده باشم 

از این همه خون 

جاری در  چهار راه های آزادی !

فراموش نمی شوم 

دربه در

عاشقانه نوشته ام 

شعر خون بهای شاعر است !

چه  داشته باشی  دوست 

بی عطر بوسه ای حتی

ما ناممان را 

بر کول برزخ 

با سبزی مرگ  نوشته اند 

شاعر 

درد که می کشد 

دنیا به گریه می آید !

حمید رضا اکبری شروه

۱۴۰۳/۸/۱۰

have not passed through 

All these streets

I have not been sung

By the tired hearts of poets 

And with the hired mouths

I have not set a rate 

From all this blood

Which gushes through 

The freedom-square 

I will not be forgotten 

Door to door

I have been written 

Poetry is the blood money of the poet!

what's up my friend 

Not even a scentless kiss

We have our name 

On the coolness of Barzakh 

The poets have been written with the greenary of death 

Because of the pain that kills 

And the world cries out of it!

Hamid Reza Akbari( Shrve)

IRAN

 Autora: Isabelita Vigo 

Poema: Caudillo

Lima Perú 

Enero 2025

CAUDILLO

Supón aquel cielo empinado

Cuando se pose el erizo y te mire

Bendiciendo el crisol que se emana

Abraces mi sombra que la pasión te trae

Que hay de ti cuando calcine con mi amor

Aquella sombra que te abraza

Habré de consumiré la piel

En el preludio arisco

Cuando el alba se doblega

Que se enardece

Y te antojes saber que tendré

Muy previstas las pretensiones

Si palpas el erguido regimiento

Recorriendo surcos

Aproximados al amor

Que se enarbolan como caudillo

Sumergido en torrente de pasiones

En alharacas de una pérfida lengua

Que no tuvo necesidad de hablar

En sentimientos que ofrecí

Socavando el aullido

De enérgicas lecciones. 

Poemario: Solsticio 

© Der reg

 Poetisa de Plata de Taxco

No desistas...

Cuando menos lo esperamos

se presenta adversidad 

no lo que planeamos

sucedió sin nuestra voluntad.

Preparados contra todo 

lo que obstruya nuestro andar

encontrando el modo

de no dejar de avanzar.

Y con gratitud latente

sin dejar de sonreír

otra senda reaparece

la correcta tan latente

nuestra fé más crece.

No desistir es tarea

desde cada amanecer

aunque suba la marea

no dejar de trascender.

Amén 🙏 

Poetisa de Plata de Taxco 

Alicia de la Paz Ortiz Cuevas

Clarena Martínez Turizo.

País : Colombia

 MÁS ALLÁ DE TU MIRADA.

La tarde está encantada

tiembla de felicidad.

porque halle en tu vida 

muchas bondad.

El encanto de tu sonrisa

me ha hecho soñar con esos 

labios fantásticos 

me haces suspirar.

Amo cada uno de tus gestos

tu manera de andar, 

tu dulzura me atrapa me 

hace vibrar.

Más allá de tu mirada amo 

tu sensibilidad, 

el dulce olor de tu piel,

tu manera de amar.

Invades mis sentidos,

eres  mi hermoso  torbellino

de tulipán, fragante en 

cada paso mi amado galán.

Autora: Clarena Martínez Turizo.

País : Colombia

Tema : MAS ALLÁ DE TU MIRADA.

Derechos reservados

Magangue Bolívar 12-01-2025 Hr 6:40 Pm

The Saints of the Gutter by Arbind Choudhary

 

The Saints of  the  Gutter

 

The starter is born in the gutter

Who gets mind out of the gutter

For the saint of the gutter

Amidst many a mind in the gutter?

 

The Ritter is as smooth as butter

Who glitters like butter

For the bread and butter

Amidst many a hair in the butter?

 

The reverter is the caterer of the laughter

Who bursts into laughter

For the peal of laughter

Amidst many a slaughter?

 

How can one flatter this courter

Amidst many a hurter?

 

 

 Biography

ARBIND KUMAR CHOUDHARY who has got not only two of his poetry collections-Majuli: The Vatican City of Assam and Mother India  included for syllabus of B.A English Honours and M.A  in English at Sibsagar University, Assam, India but also honored with the crown of the Universal Ambassador of Peace from Poetry and The Phrasal King in Indian English Poetry by Geneva  based president Gabrielle Simond of duo organizations –Universal Ambassador Peace Circle and Universal Peace Embassy and Indian creative milieu. The  research synopsis on The Aspects of Love and Relationship in the selected Works of A.K.

Choudhary has been approved in The Pacific University of Rajasthan. As a prominent poet Dr. Choudhary has been reviewed and interviewed in a number of Indian English daily newspapers such as The Daily Guardian, The Hans India, The Hitavada, The Heaven Mail, The Precious Kashmir and many others excluding various magazines in America, Romania, Albania, Bangladesh and Malta.

Presently Dr.Choudhary has been heading the Deptt of English at Rangachahi College, Majuli, Assam, India.

Published by Tamikio L. Dooley

Dr. Ashok Kumar

"A World United in Art"

Across the globe, a canvas wide,

A tapestry of voices, side by side.

Poets, artists, visionaries true,

United in their passion, to create anew.

From distant lands, a chorus strong,

Echoes of imagination, all day long.

The doctor of art, a healer of souls,

Bringing solace, comfort, making hearts whole.

With brushes, words, and melodies so fine,

They paint a world of beauty, a world divine.

Their art a reflection, of humanity's plight,

A beacon of hope, in the dark of night.

Through their creations, they speak to our hearts,

A language universal, that never departs.

A symphony of love, that resonates so deep,

A celebration of life, in all its forms, we keep.

So let us cherish, these artists of old,

Their contributions to humanity, forever to be told.

For in their art, we find, a piece of ourselves,

A reflection of our hopes, our dreams, our wealth.

And to our dear doctor, @Epitacio Tongohan, we say,

Your art, a gift to humanity, in every way.

May your brushstrokes, your words, your melodies so bright,

Continue to inspire, and bring joy to our sight.

---

Dr. Ashok Kumar

Baraut, Baghpat, UP, India

January 21, 2025

 费一飞[中国]

诗十首

观落日

山上适合观望，落日西沉

它不紧不慢

戴着昏黄的帽子，低眉顺眼，渐渐瓜熟

蒂落

溪水流出山谷，一路喧响

但叫不住急匆匆要下山的一枚松果

一只山雀也不甘寂寞

用稀落的鸣叫伴奏缓慢的黄昏

夕阳一步步走远

只要起身就可以到达大海

到达未知的彼岸

当然一切还不能事先断定

——这我知道，一直活着

就是为了送走一些东西

直到有一天，别人站在我跟前

把我送走

至于最后去了哪里

现在我还无法回答

看到一只翠鸟

翠鸟俯冲的时候，我恰好

坐在湖边

落日以明亮的方式

记录了一道美丽弧线的始末

蓝光闪过，水面上激起一圈小小的漩涡

击中之后是消失，是窒息

我停住呼吸，等一发炮弹在水里爆炸

吃惊于艳丽的羽毛下竟是一颗猛禽之心

渺小的生存也上演弱肉强食

但后面的剧情更出乎意料

远远超出了我对一个杀手的预见——

它冲出水面，飞回树梢，抖掉身上的水滴

把猎物

喂给了另一只翠鸟

不安

当觉得庭院很完美，草木和睦相处

鸟声安详，悦耳。又会觉得不安

觉得应该有点尖锐，有些争吵

那你就种下月季或者蔷薇

木香绵里藏针，也是优秀的占领者

它们无需清规戒律，只有用不完的青春

恣意地迎风生长

一场大雨之后，原来的和平之地

立即有了刺的耀武扬威

有了不讲道理的漫延与奔放

战场是残酷的，而蜂蝶

飞舞得更猛烈了

你站在它们中间有燃烧的感觉

甚至想像从此跻身其中

因为这才叫生活，真正的葳蕤

需要有点芜杂

真正伟大的爱情必须互赠占有与疼痛

白鹤

只有这样的白，才能映衬大地

内心的纯洁

一场迁徙归来，故地依旧

疲惫的眷恋比去年更加消瘦

心思是细长的，如蒿草的漫延

独立于水泽的边缘

多像许多年前一个看榜的书生

长久地，站在落第的寂寞里

提起一只脚，是因为大千世界

还没有一个地方足够干净

却适合在黄昏或者清晨

用一声长唳呼唤一场大雪降临

然后用另一只脚，撑住

倾斜的地球，以及我们的愧疚

现在，我开始爱我自己

以前，我一直

让自己努力爱这个世界

我很怕，如果没有这份拼命的爱

这个并不富裕的世界

也许会忽略我

对我另眼相看

现在，我开始爱我自己

因为我越来越觉得

爱不动这个沉重的世界

我的爱是有限的

应该爱的容易一点

或者这么说吧

如果我不爱我自己

就无法爱这个世界

枯葵印象

深秋的风

摧枯拉朽

卷走一个季节

大地在辽阔的天空下

深刻地荒芜

一枝枯葵独立在路边

干瘦，倔强，直立

哪个农民这么有诗意

创作如此醒目的孤独，顶住

即将到来的冬天

站立着的是太阳的性格

让人想起，自己

曾站在荒凉中的民族

旧物

岁月之潮退去时

会洒落光泽黯淡的旧物

就像闭着眼睛的贝壳

留在了海滩上

我怀着复杂的心情

把它们归拢在一起

既免得太占地方

又便于珍藏

但不时总能听见

它们叮叮当当的声响

这独一无二的过去

既无可替代也难以忘怀

于是，我拿起一件端详

想起遥远日子里的亲切

即便是局促的难堪

过去了

才显出意味深长

我留着这些凭据般的老物件

是想留下走过这个世界的念想

独坐泰山

这时我坐在山上

陷入沉默的石头

整整一个黄昏，一动不动

似乎给压顶的仪式

又增加一些分量

对面的山峰，头顶的云，盘旋的鹰

一定以为

我是一块新来的石头

还有无数个黄昏

一直这样下去，也许

我真的会变成

一块不错的泰山石

这有多好，从此可尽收大江南北

可以陪时间忘记苍老

何奈有一朵花，在旁边的石缝里

猛地开了，让我转过头

斜了一下眼

佛门

有一天下午

我专门跑到普陀

请教一位大师

怎样跨进寺门

大师跟我讲了很多

我似懂非懂

不忍心打断他，那么多

听上去很像哲学的道理

他的茶有点粗苦

我假装喜欢简饮

一直把苦涩喝得很淡

让他相信，我有点佛缘

送到门口

我又直接地问了一遍

大师，先出左脚

还是右脚

走过一只猫

城市的一角

一只流浪猫

在雨中散步

表情闲适地

穿过街心花园

就像走在自己的庭院

那个神态

很像人啊

这么悠闲

雨弄湿了

它的脚

它停了一下

举起一只

抖了一抖

就像甩了甩踩水的鞋

那个动作

很像人啊

这么敏感

雨下密了

天色将晚

去往哪里呢

它抬起头

若有所思地望了望天

就像一个思归的游子

那个表情

很像人啊

这么孤单

Fei Yifei [China]

Fei Yifei [China]