Poem by Aziz Mountassir
                                                     

                                        

                                

               Translated into
               English  by
               Houda Elfchtali

MY POETRY

I want my poetry..
To be peace and love
I want my poetry..
To tear up the shrouds
I want my poetry..
To transform
The soldier
Into a civil citizen
I want my poetry..
The turn my absence
Into windows '
And orphans 'tears
I want my poetry..
To be a planet
Without which
The nations are dark
I want my poetry..
To be that kind of peace
That will fight
with the weapons of love,
Of coexistence
and of security
I want my poetry ..
To be a brotherhood hug
Between Arabs
and the world
Far from the  wars
And far from the smokes
On oceans and seas
Where the waves are calm
And where
They address the mounts
With bounty
I want my poetry
To make the sea sands
Be full of peace

               Poem by
             Aziz  Mountassir
               Translated into
               English Azizby
               Houda Elfchtali

S.L.Luna
Moonwriterpoet
18/12/2019
مواسم الحياة /The seasons of life

                                       

                                             

The seasons of life
مواسم الحياة

هناك وقت للذبول
وقت للإزدهار
هناك موسم من الضعف
وموسم من القوة
وقت البحث
ضاع في البرية
ويمكن العثور عليه
في وقت
 البكاء والفرح
و الظلام والوقت
في نهاية النفق
ستجد وقت الوصول
Stella L.luna

The Seasons of Life.

There is a time to wither
and a time to bloom.
There is a season of weakness
and a season of strength.
A time for searching,
getting lost in the wilderness,
and a time to be found.
A time of tears and a time of joy.
A time for darkness and a time
for the light at the end of the tunnel.

(C) S.L.Luna
Moonwriterpoet
18/12/2019

L&G ( Liliana) Ilire

                                               

Pasqyra e kohes
***********************
Un jam aty pas !aty pas !pasqyrës
Aty pas u futa si hije nën një xham
Vërtet e preka me dorë,pas e pas ngela
Që para të dalë përballë pasqyrës
*********
Sa bukur të duket kopja e juaj
Shumë shpejte te stampon atë që ti je
E shëmtuar apo e bukur nuk të ngatëron
Linjat e trupit shpejt ti tregon
*********
Po ti hap driten të të shohë mire
Ose dil tek hena  te ndricoj fytyrën
Ti fli  si bukuroshja e fjetur
Nëse në të gdhirë të  shoh plotë drtitë
**********
Para pasqyrës përballë u gjënda
Dhe flas me të unë pa u menduar
Por habitshëm je një kopjo aty shehë
Magjike në fytyrën tënde vjen
**********
Shtriga që pyet pasqyrëne shëmtuar
Apo borëbardha  si ëngjëll fluturon
E kërcen nëper lindinat e pyllit
Vec mëndja shkon tek një përrallë
**********
Ah ! atë,nuk e sheh dot  në pasqyra
Mendimet e gabuara janë në Altar
Mendon para pasqyrës miresin e zjart
Kurrë asnjehere pasqyra do të flasi qartë
***********
Djetor-, 2019-
L&G(Liljana) Ilire

WISH FOR PEACE  original poem by ( Sabrina Rubin)
Translate to lunguage Arabic by (Aziz Mountassir)

                                  

I am writing today
That i am not feeling inside,
Peace!
Where is mankind?
Naked criticism for you
Yes we are vagrants from here to there
Inner struggles are there
War, bullet, cry,  rape,  child abuse
Guilts are in my brain
Suffering a lot of this pain
Don’t let the world cry
Don't let the dove die
Where is serenity?
Path of beautiful lagoon
Where destiny welcomes
Surrender soul for humankind
No anger, no jealously
Walk in this radiant way
Live in love and harmony
Spread your hand for victims
Raise your hands for victory..

Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo
Written In the Stars

.                                                     

(Inspired by the movie “Winter’s Tale)
They say for each person
There is a certain Miracle from within
And you are meant to be just for one person
As time draws to a close to meeting the One,
The Universe and your Spirit Guides are on your side
To help you fulfill your One True Destiny.

It’s written in the stars
And before you know it, I am coming to hold your hand
You may not know now but soon you’ll get it somehow
I may have bumped into you along life’s journey,
But you were too preoccupied with your own story
That you didn’t notice me passing you by.

If in this life, we have to say goodbye
As my soul reincarnates, I’ll meet you again in the next,
When our eyes lock as we cross our paths once more
You will know in your heart that it was me – your Destiny,
Just look at the stars on a beautiful night such as this
And know that the time is near to feel eternal bliss.

It’s written in the stars
For even when True Love is lost,
Your soul will bleed for a meaning in your life
But though the inevitable happens, searching for your One True Destiny remains
If we are yet to discover our One True Miracle,
Even time may defeat itself in order for you to see me in another lifetime.

Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo
Copyright May 31, 2014
Philippines

I hope this would be fine. Thank you so much for this wonderful opportunity to share my work! 😊

THE GREEN ROSES
Joanna Svensson

                                            

A dreamed of
A bouquet of
Green roses
They were sent
To me
Last night
I don't know
Where They came from
Don't know
From where from whom
They just stood there
On my bedside table
Beaming
In lovely color green
Illuminated
By the full moon
Itself

Quite overwhelmed
For never I saw
Colors of green
So brightly shining

These colors of green
I had never seen
This fragrance
I had never felt
All was so peaceful
Made me feel so at ease
The calm of it all
Was enchanted

Maybe They came
From another world
From another reality
From a world
Where other
Colors may rule
A world
With different fragrance
A world
Yet not known
To us

The roses in
My dreams was
Maybe a message
To broaden
My views
Just a bit

To be able to tell
To really describe
To explain
Unexplainable things
To tell
What you really
Can't see

I dreamed
Of a bouquet
Of green roses
A most highly
Unlikely
Dream
But to me
Realistic
And never so sharp
And suddenly
Its message
Sunk in!

When I woke up
The roses
Were gone
Surprised I held
A green rose
In my hand
A shining rose
Beaming of love
It sparkled
With magic
Strong was its light
Shone ever so bright
Light of hope
Light of happiness
And joy!

©® Joanna Svensson

Swenstorp, Sweden

A passing
William s Peters sr

                                 

Sitting here reflecting,
Contemplating,
Examining,
Considering,
My experiential-ness
Being circumspectively careful
Not to get the foot
Of my consciousness ensnared
By that little impish me
Who lends himself to judgment

Looking back,
Looking ahead,
Looking at
Where I stand,
It is hard to be conclusive
As to what the meaning
Of my life is,
Should be,
Or what end I strive or pine
For

Inclusive versus exclusive
A presumptive preclusive oxymoron

I do know
That somewhere within the recesses
Of who I vainly perceive myself
To be
That I wish
To leave a few notes
Or clues
That I did come this way

Sure, I have children,
Two handfuls of grands
And a great grandson as well,
But what would they tell
To their own
Of what they have known
Of my existence?

He was a good guy ?
He was a poet, a writer,
A peacemaker, a fighter
He believed, he condemned
He condoned, he damned

He loved, he hated
He took chances, he waited . . .
Too long

What was that song he always hummed ?
Who knows, but he did hum . . .  along . . .
With some music
It appeared
That only he could hear

He was courageously
Filled with a fear
Of what he would become,
Of what we would become

To sum it all up
I am not quite so sure
If my cup
Was half empty,
Or half full,
Or if it makes a damn bit of difference,
But I do believe
I had,
And still have potential

The essential thing I attest
About living
Is in the giving
Of one’s self
To the effort of pretense,
Hence, why bother otherwise
If one can not surmise,
And persuade themselves
To engage
In the exploration
Of possibilities and potentialities

The surrealities and fiction
Has its own derelictions . . .
Darkness, light and . . .
Truths
That transform themselves
From the age of consciousness . . .

Conception to the grave
From our youth,
Until we save ourselves
From our selves . . .

And here I am,
Still attempting to drown out the dissent
Found in those whispering voices
That tell me
There are little choices
That I have
To be other than
What I am told
By that around me,
Which surrounds me
Within
And without

Somehow,
I have mastered the ability
To doubt myself
And all that
I could have been,
And still yet can be

Funny thing about contemplation and reflection,
The process of certitudinal detection
Of what truly is,
Is as kaleidoscopic
As it ever could be,
For thoughts
Have no boundaries . . . 
No, they can not be contained
As we would like them to be,
For they are only passing . . .
A passing through
Once again

© 9 December 2019 : william s. peters, sr.

www.iamjustbill.com