Children’s Eyes, Across the Border | Faruk Buzhala

Children’s eyes

When children play the game of war,
The ground quakes under foot,
The air smells like gunpowder,
The water turns to a hue of colors.

When children play the game of war,
They dig pits,  they dig graves,
They smile quietly, cry out loud,
Intuition keeps them hanging in the sky.

When children play the game of war,
Hearts beat at a fast pace,
The weakened bodies require rest,
The eyes look there, where hopefulness breathes.

Across the border

Persecuted on all sides
with grounded hopes deep in our souls
with the question almost dissolved on our lips
will we meet again?

Mother, brother, sisters, cousins and friends,
The war adds  meaning to life,
comparable with nothing else.

I fled the border that separates
the buzz of war with a false calm;
I look forward to doing something,
Freedom to leak out of  the sky!

Summer
Petro Stolyarenko
Ukrainian (1925-2018)

©2022 Faruk Buzhala
All rights reserved


Faruk Buzhala…

is a well-known poet from Ferizaj, Kosovo, writing in his mother-tongue, Albanian. He was born in 9 March 1968 in Pristina. He is the former manager and leader of “De Rada,” a literary association, from 2012 until 2018, and also the representative of Kosovo to the 100 TPC organization. In addition to poems, he also writes short stories, essays, literary reviews, traveltales, etc. Faruk Buzhala is an organizer and manager of many events in Ferizaj. His poems have been translated to English, Italian, Spanish, French, German, Croatian and Chinese, and are published in anthologies in the U



No Change | Faruk Buzhala

time gap

I see that 
nothing has changed here 
except
some gray in the hair 
and wrinkles on the face 
that have left unnoticed traces.

boshllëk kohe

po shoh se...
asgjë nuk paska ndryshuar këtu
përveç se
ca thinjave në flokë
e rrudhave në fytyrë
që paskan lënë gjurmë pavërejtur.

©2022 Faruk Buzhala
All rights reserved


Faruk Buzhala…

is a well-known poet from Ferizaj, Kosovo writing in his mother-tongue, Albanian. He was born in 9 March 1968 in Pristina. He is the former manager and leader of “De Rada,” a literary association, from 2012 until 2018, and also the representative of Kosovo to the 100 TPC organization. In addition to poems, he also writes short stories, essays, literary reviews, traveltales, etc. Faruk Buzhala is an organizer and manager of many events in Ferizaj. His poems have been translated to English, Italian, Spanish, French, German, Croatian and Chinese, and are published in anthologies in the USA, Italy, Mexico, Albania, China, etc.

Flag Confidential Lies | Faruk Buzhala

The Flag

It's a great pleasure
to write one young poet
poem for you.
To express, words to you
to unfold, one's feelings for you
to reveal, thinks to you.
....................................
I'm fascinated,
a little bit frustrated,
in a poem
which, like a present. comes
in one night without moon
where I was watching
from a window
the mountain top…
thinking about you!
Gerry Shepherd
Variant Two
©2021

Confidential Game 2

Furkani has style
But his style is stolen!

Furkani changes style
But they still steal it!

Furkani is left with no style,
Now he needs to create a new style!

And creates a superstyle;
Surprisingly they steal it again!
Gerry Shepherd
The Mask
©2021

Lies

I made my lie for the road
And I told it,
Fly like a wind!
It left in the morning,
And when it returned in the evening,
What to see?
It was growing, it was swollen
And perverted
So I did not recognize it!
Miroslava Panayotava
Autumn, acrylic and oil
©2021

Poetry ©2021 Faruk Buzzhala
All rights reserved

Tri Poezi / Three Poems — Faruk Buzhala

Glarus - A closer look - Digital Work - Miroslava Panayotova
Glarus – A closer look – Digital Work – Miroslava Panayotova

The burden

Life with hands in pockets,
half a pack of cigarettes in them!
And with thought in chaos
invented by my mind.

Walked the road  like a body
abandoned by itself!


Bad Times

Rising earlier than usual
Roosters peck the sunlight
Dogs howl like the wolves
Crows unsettle the sky.

What kind of day is this
The one I have to live in?!

Aeon

My promises
All are gone, gone.
The memories stay
In an empty chair
On the terrace of the old house!

©2021 Faruk Buzhala
All rights reserved


Return to ToC

Beginning Mask Home — Faruk Buzhala

Only with expiation and forgiveness of mutual sins,
Can we change ourselves, and maybe others, too.

The beginning

Flock of roaming sheep,
lost, wasted in hunger of wolves
are left without a shepherd,
who laying under the shade of centenary wood, 
dreams of the beginning.
 
The sheep lost,
the shepherd wakes up
looking around toward the horizon! 

Notices that
He is left alone
after his doze 
on a summer day.

Mask Time

We wear masks to shut-up our mouths!
Our lips remain invisible under them,
Our teeth are not visible, too, 
Even the smile remains not a hidden secret,
The bad smell, too,
And the words we speak are not well articulated, with no regret.

We do wear the masks to prevent the virus from entering in us, 
And vice versa, not letting go out from ourselves.

We do wear a mask over our face-mask, 
The lipstick in women’s lips remains unseen,
Same with botox in their swelled lips,
Can’t feel even the breath.

We wear original mask to cover the fakeness in this pandemic time,
we follow the advice from the responsible institutions
How to care about ourselves and the other, 
Although, most of us do not follow it.

We do wear masks while we walk in the streets and
When we see a familiar face,
We take off the mask to greet them, as sign of respect!


Home

My home is
where I meet my silence,
My breath,
My soul, 
My fragility.
 
At home
I have my memories,
My thoughts, 
My life.
 
At home
I have my happiness,
I have myself, 
I have the hope,
I have the future. 
 
At home
I have my moments,
The time,
The space. 
 
At home
I have my warmth,
I have the fire,
I have the ash,
I have the light.

At home
I have my destiny,
My wishes,
My risks.
 
At home
I have my sky,
I have my sun,
I have my moon,
I have my stars.
 
At home, my home
I have the access,
I have the love,
I have the harmony,
I have eternity.
 
At home, my home.

©2021 Faruk Buzhala
All rights reserved


Return to ToC

Posted in April 2020 Poetry Month, COVID-19/Pandemic, interNational Poetry Month, Poems/Poetry

Three Poems on the Pandemic by Faruk Buzhala

The following poems are in Albanian. Each is followed by an English translation.



JETA

Trazimet shpirtërore më rrahin
siç rrahin valët brigjet
siç rrahin erërat detin e trazuar.

Nuk e kuptoj
porsi foshnja shikon botën rreth tij
plot dritë ngjyra e nuanca.

Ashtu siç lëvizin hijet
në dritën e qiririt
mendimet më luhaten.

Fëmija në djep përkundet
duke ushtruar balancimin
që i duhet më pastaj në jetë.

Rrugën e kam të trasuar
me shenjat udhërrëfyese
të vendosura anëve nga babai im.

Ç’më duhet më shumë të di
janë gjymtyrët e trupit tim
ku shenjat e fatit tim lexohen.

LIFE

The spiritual torment beats me
as waves beat the shores
as winds beat the troubled sea.

I don’t understand, confused
as an infant looking at the world around
full of light, colors, and hues.

Like shadows
of a flickering candle,
my thoughts sway.

As a mother rocks a baby
in the cradle, to rehearse balance
needed later in life.

The road is clear
with signs placed along the side
by my father.

What I need to know more,
other than my body limbs,
where are signs of my fate deciphered?



Pika dhe kuptimi i saj

Mision i njeriut në këtë jetë është të gjejë lumturinë e tij
Që i jep kuptim përpjekjeve dhe sakrificave për të njohur
Kuptimin e kuptimit thelbësor të asaj
që në mendje është mister, i bartur ndër breza!

Vallë e kuptove o njeri
Se ç’deshi të t’thotë urtaku
Që jetën e çoi si eremit
I tretur në shkretëtirën e zemrës së tij.

Breza e breza kalojnë
Dhe treten në pluhurin e kohës
E ti o njeri
Do mbetesh gjithmonë
Një pikë e pikësuar nga tjetri!

The dot and its meaning

The mission humans in this life is to find happiness
that gives meaning to struggless and sacrifice,
to know the essential conception ,
the mystery of the mind, passed down through the generations!

Have you understood, o humanity?
What the wise one wants to say?
The one who, like a hermit, spent his life
Wasting in the desert of his heart?

Generations and generations pass
And dissolve in the dust of time
And you, o humanity,
You will always remain,
One dot punctuated by the other!



Laj duart!

Kur mendon se ke gënjyer
Laj duart
Kur mendon se ke shpifur
Laj duart
Kur mendon se ke intriguar
Laj duart
Kur mendon se ke mashtruar
Laj duart
Kur mendon se ke abuzuar
Laj duart
Kur mendon se ke keqinterpretuar
Laj duart
Kur mendon se ke keqpërdoruar
Laj duart
Kur mendon se ke tradhëtuar
Laj duart
Kur mendon se ke lënduar
Laj duart!
P.S.
Edhe Ponc Pilati pati larë duart duke thënë:
Ishalla s’më bjen Korona Virusi!

Wash your hands!

When you think you’ve lied
Wash your hands
When you think you’ve slandered
Wash your hands
When you think you’re intrigued
Wash your hands
When you think you’ve cheated
Wash your hands
When you think you’ve abused
Wash your hands
When you think you’ve misinterpreted
Wash your hands
When you think you’ve misused
Wash your hands
When you think you’ve betrayed
Wash your hands
When you think you hurt
Wash your hands!

P.S.
Even Pontius Pilate washed his hands saying:
“Hopefully the coronavirus doesn’t bug me!”


All poems and translations © 2020, Faruk Buzhala



FARUK BUZHALA is a well-known poet from Ferizaj, Kosovo . He was born in 9 March 1968 in Pristina. He is the former manager and leader of “De Rada,” a literary association, from 2012 until 2018, and also the representative of Kosovo to the 100 TPC organization. In addition to poems, he also writes short stories, essays, literary reviews, traveltales, etc. Faruk Buzhala is an organizer and manager of many events in Ferizaj. His poems have been translated to English, Italian, Spanish, French, German, Croatian and Chinese, and are published in anthologies in the USA, Italy, Mexico, Albania, China, etc.

He has published five books : “Qeshje Jokeriane” (Jokerian Smile) 1998 , “Shtëpia pa rrugë” (House without road) 2009 , “Njeriu me katër hije” (Man with four shadows) 2012, “Shkëlqim verbërues” (Blinding brilliance) 2015, and “Një gur mangut” (A stone less) 2018.

Five from Faruk Buzhala

Lazy afternoon

The faded afternoon
sitting in a corner
makes the calculations of the day.
With a taste of café in the mouth
smokes the next cigarette in laziness!

Is this the same

To walk alive
Among the dead
Where everyone watches you
And no one sees you
Or
To walk dead
Among the living
Where no one looks at you
And everyone sees you

Is this the same?!

Traces

Satan is gone
But among us has left
A lot of his bastards.

Prophets voice
Despaired of the views
That appear on my window.
I hear voices that echo from
The bottom of the souls
Shrieks of which
Keep me hanging over the ground!

I want to scream with all my voice
And tell them that
We live at the end of the apocalyptic world!

Grief

I want to cry
To blow the peel of grief
That enlaced my heart
I want to cry
To be a tear at all
In the darkness of grief
Flowers let’s get drunk
In the garden so that I’m not
completely dried out

© 2019, Faruk Buzhala

Three Poems from Albanian | Faruk Buzhala


Faruk Buzhala

My house

My house is a hundred years old.

My House
Digital art
©2017 Michael Dickel

The wounds of time appear on the walls
Even though I have tried to repair you.
You are as beautiful as a monument of the past.
I have lived and grown inside of you.

My hundred-year old house—
When it rains why are you crying?
The roof and ceiling leak
And I…
Run with bowls in my hands
To pick up the tears.


Here is the original, in Albanian

Shtëpia ime

Shtëpia ime qindvjetëshe
Plagët e kohës t’figurojnë në mure
Edhe pse shumë here t’i  kuroja
Je e bukur si monument i t’kaluarës
Për  muaqë në ty jetoj.

Shtëpia ime qindvjetëshe
Kur bie shi përse qanë
Pullazi tavani pikojnë
E unë
Vrapoj me tasa në duar
Të t’i mbledh lotët.



The ending

“Two thousand years ago ended the voyage of the prophets.”

We annihilated darkness
Digital art
©2017 Michael Dickel

People are left
at the crossroads of life
without knowing the direction to go:
Past, Present, Future, or …?!

Old wisdoms
We took for the worst
and put them into a bag.
Then we upload into time
the burden of our sins.

We annihilated darkness
But we were left in the dark,
with tired eyes barren of myopia
seeking the grace of god’s fire
wasted somewhere in the universe.


Here is the original, in Albanian

M b a r i m i

“Qe dymijë vite u ndal rrugëtimi i profetëve”

Njerëzit kanë mbetur
në udhëkryqin e jetës
pa ditur kah të shkojnë:
Kah e kaluara,e tashmja, e ardhmja, apo…?!.

Mësimet e vjetra i morëm për ters
dhe i futëm në thes.
Pastaj ia ngarkuam kohës
barrën e mëkateve tona.

E asgjësuam terrin
por mbetëm në terr,
me sy të lodhur shterpe nga miopia
kërkojmë hirin e zjarrit të hyjnive
të tretur diku në univers.



The above poems are from Faruk Buzhala’s second book, House without Road. Translated by Faruk Buzhala with Michael Rothenberg. Faruk wrote the poem below in English.



”Love… lost somewhere in the deepest cut of my heart, waiting for someone to awake feelings.”

With a candle
Digital art
©2017 Michael Dickel

to be alone when your heart wants to have friends near,
to wish one wish when your body burns for some youthfulness,
to think of the past when your nostalgia brings back all of the pictures of life!

With a candle in the dark spirit, walk easily through the passing years.



Faruk Buzhala
©2015 Michael Dickel

Faruk Buzhala is an Albanian from Kosovo. He currently lives in Ferizaj. He describes himself elsewhere as “an alien falling from the sky to earth…”

This post originally appeared on
Fragmentarily/ Metaphor(e) /Play.



Posted in The BeZine, The BeZine Table of Contents

The BeZine, Vol. 6, Issue 3, September 2019, Social Justice

September 28, 2019 The BeZine Virtual 100TPC Event is LIVE!

Social Justice
as the world burns and wars rage

Global protest actions on the Climate Crisis have been scheduled for September, as fires rage from the Arctic to the Amazon [1]. Potential conflicts in the Middle East seem on the verge of flaring into their own wildfires, most prominently as I write this: Taliban-US, Iran-US, Israel-Hamas-(Hezbollah-Iran), and Pakistan-India-Kashmir. Underlying and entwined with these huge, tangled problems, the pressing need to address injustice, inequality, and huge economic disparity, which smolder or burn throughout the world. Big words cover what we wish for in place of these problems: Sustainability, Peace, and Social Justice. In order to understand the complex dimensions of each of these pressing global problems, The BeZine has focused in our first two issues of 2019 on Peace and Sustainability—and now, the Fall Issue of The BeZine focuses on Social Justice.

As you press on for justice, be sure to move with dignity and discipline, using only the weapon of love. Let no man pull you so low as to hate him. Always avoid violence. If you succumb to the temptation of using violence in your struggle, unborn generations will be the recipients of a long and desolate night of bitterness, and your chief legacy to the future will be an endless reign of meaningless chaos.

—Martin Luther King, Jr.
(Source: “The Most Durable Power,” Excerpt from Sermon at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church on 6 November 1956
The Martin Luther King, Jr. Research and Education Institute, Stanford)

In this time of Orwellian language-logic and fake news (aka propaganda and lies), science denial (aka lies and distortions), nationalistic-populism, vitriolic debate, and self-serving and greedy leadership in the financial and governmental towers of power unmoored from ethics or morality (aka high crimes and misdemeanors)—with all of this, I ask you to reflect on these words of Martin Luther King, Jr.—”Let no man pull you so low as to hate him. Always avoid violence.”

I find myself at times of despair drawn to the idea of violence as the only solution, but each time remind myself of the repulsiveness of that solution. We must find a way to bring justice into the world, to immediately address the climate crisis, and to foster peace, without contributing to the bitterness, pain, and murder so rampant now, fueled as it is by the rhetoric and actions of government and corporate powers. If we stoop to the level of those men (and women) in power, we will end up only fanning the destructive fires they have lit and spread.

As the Reverend King goes on to say: “If you succumb to the temptation of using violence in your struggle, unborn generations will be the recipients of a long and desolate night of bitterness, and your chief legacy to the future will be an endless reign of meaningless chaos.”

Sometimes I feel that we already are reaping that legacy with this reign of chaos surrounding us today. I fervently hope that, if so, it is not an endless inferno.

Glimmers of hope emerge—Greta Thunberg and her activism shines like a bright light. Her language makes clear that the climate crisis is an issue of social justice for our children and grandchildren. It is also a social justice issue for indigenous peoples, migrants, the poor, and less “developed” countries. The climate crisis and wars contribute to the issue of justice for migrants, creating a flow of refugees that other countries refuse to shelter. Racism, unfettered capitalism, gender biases all create injustice, and those oppressed in the system that produce hate are most likely to suffer in war and the climate crisis. Our contributors touch on these intersections while exploring social justice in their work.

In the end, the hope has to come from us—from our acting, responding, striking if necessary. Yes, avoiding violence. But also, demanding change now. We need to seek the abstract “social justice” through social ACTION. And we need to see and act on the links between issues, rather than dividing ourselves and fighting over which issue is more important. They are all important, and they all need to be addressed holistically.

We all need to work together, because there are no jobs on a dead planet; there is no equity without rights to decent work and social protection, no social justice without a shift in governance and ambition, and, ultimately, no peace for the peoples of the world without the guarantees of sustainability.

—Sharan Burrow
(Cited in: “To transform the world, we need a revolution in our priorities and values.”
The Gower Initiative for Modern Money Studies. Aug. 24, 2019.

Michael Dickel, Contributing Editor


 With this issue of the Zine, Global 100,000 Poets and Others for Change (100TPC), Read A Poem To A Child week, and The BeZine Virtual 100TPC we share our passions and concerns across borders, we explore differences without violence or vindictiveness, and we sustain one another.  These activities endow us with hope, strength, and connection.

Our thanks to and gratitude for the members of The Bardo Group Beguines (our core team), to our contributors, and to our readers and supporters who come from every corner of the world. You are the light and the hope. You are valued.

Special thanks to Michael Rothenberg and Terri Carrion for the gift of 100TPC and Read A Poem To A Child week, to our resident artist Corina Ravenscraft for our beautiful 100TPC banner, and to Michael Dickel for pulling the Zine together this month, moderating Virtual 100TPC on September 28, and for his technical support and innovations.  And to Terri Stewart, much appreciation for our stellar logo, and for our ultra-fabulous name: The BeZineBe inspired … Be creative … Be peace. … Be …

Our theme for the December 15 issue is “A Life of the Spirit.”  John Anstie will take the lead and submissions will open on October 1 and close on November 15.  Look for revised submission guidelines soon.

In the spirit of love (respect) and community
and on behalf of The Bardo Group Beguines,
Jamie Dedes, Managing Editor


The BeZine 100TPC Virtual—Live Online 28 September 2019

The global 100TPC initiative on Saturday, September 28, 2019, puts forward poetry, music, art, and more, that promote Peace, Sustainability, an Social Justice. The BeZine will again offer a virtual, online event on that date. Please stop by, leave links to your own writing, art, or music, leave comments… We welcome your participation. Click here to join on 28 September 2019.


Table of contents

How to read this issue of THE BeZINE: You can read each piece individually by clicking the links in the Table of Contents or you can click HERE and scroll through the entire Zine.

TRANFORMATION

“There must exist a paradigm, a practical model for social change that includes an understanding of ways to transform consciousness that are linked to efforts to transform structures.” ― bell hooks, Killing Rage: Ending Racism

Poetry
Peace, Benedicta Boamah
Five from Faruk Buzhala, Faruk Buzhala
Pushing through Utopia, Linda Chown
TimeInWar, Linda Chown
Don’t Be Stupid, DeWitt Clinton
Rising Up, You Poets, Jamie Dedes
One Dark Stand, Mark Heathcote
request…, Charles W. Martin
The Long Dark Night, Tamam Tracy Moncur
Ju$t d1$$1m1l@r, Sunayna Pal
Don’t Hang the Poets, Mike Stone

Art and Photography
Social Justice, Anjum Wasim Dar
In solidarity, documentary photographs, Christopher Woods

Essay
Using Social Interactions to Create Change, Kella Hanna-Wayne

RE-MEMBERING THE PAIN

“There are times when so much talk or writing, so many ideas seem to stand in the way, to block the awareness that for the oppressed, the exploited, the dominated, domination is not just a subject for radical discourse, for books. It is about pain–the pain of hunger, the pain of over-work, the pain of degradation and dehumanization, the pain of loneliness, the pain of loss, the pain of isolation, the pain of exile… Even before the words, we remember the pain.” ― bell hooks, Talking Back: Thinking Feminist, Thinking Black

Poetry
Sounding Bugles, Sheikha A.
Silent Courage, Lorraine Caputo
“Nights with Ghosts,” a poem from a child in Zimbabwe, Jamie Dedes
Change, Michael Dickel
After the 2016 Election, Rachel Landrum Crumble
The Poor, Rachel Landrum Crumble
Substituting Life, Sunayna Pal
Flow Gathering Springs, Linda Shoemaker
War and Peace (Rime Royal), Clarissa Simmens
Women in Woad, Clarissa Simmens
I Never Knew I Was So Numb, Anjum Wasim Dar

Fiction
Boots, DC Diamondopolous
The Dogs of Midnight, Mike Scallan
Time Never Waits, Anjum Wasim Dar

INEQUALITY

“We live in a system that espouses merit, equality, and a level playing field, but exalts those with wealth, power, and celebrity, however gained.” ― Derrick Bell, Ethical Ambition: Living a Life of Meaning and Worth

Poetry
Control, Elvis Alves
The Long History of Genocides, Elvis Alves
dissecting the Geneva Convention, mm brazfield
Scary People and Madmen, Bill Gainer
Humanity is often a place of forgetfulness, Mark Heathcote
Chicken Little to Testify Before Congress, Rachel Landrum Crumble
Logging-Out of Bullying School, Marta Pombo Sallés
False Economy, Mantz Yorke

Essay
Dictators, Desperados, and Democracy Revisited, John Anstie
Radicals Are In Charge, Rob Moitoz

SEEKING

“In the unceasing ebb and flow of justice and oppression we must all dig channels as best we may, that at the propitious moment somewhat of the swelling tide may be conducted to the barren places of life.” ― Jane Addams, Twenty Years at Hull House

Poetry
Embrace, Lorraine Caputo
Epistle, Lorraine Caputo
Our Evolving, Jamie Dedes
Silent Life, Jamie Dedes
How I Park My Car, Bill Gainer
Awake at Night, Leela Soma
Places I Have Never Been, Ellen Wood

 


Notes:

[1] In support of these, The BeZine blog has been posting about the Climate Crisis, and will continue to do so throughout September (2019), in addition to our Sustainability Issue this past Summer [back].


The BeZine: Be Inspired, Be Creative, Be Peace, Be (the subscription feature is below and to your left.)

Daily Spiritual Practice: Beguine Again, a community of Like-Minded People

Facebook, The Bardo Group Beguines

Twitter, The Bardo Group Beguines

SUBMISSIONS:

Read Info/Missions StatementSubmission Guidelines, and at least one issue before you submit. Updates on Calls for Submissions and other activities are posted on the Zine blog and The Poet by Day.

Disjunction (in English and Albanian)

“With one hand touch the sky
With other rate impulses of heart”

Mother…
don’t leave me alone
Mother…

I’m afraid of this wild world
Mother…
don’t leave me, mother!!!

Your tear fills the ground around me
Mother…?!

Shkëputje

“Me njërën dorë prek qiellin
me tjetrën matë impulsat e zemrës”

Nënë…
mos më lër vetëm!
Nënë…
kam frikë nga kjo botë e egër!
Nënë…
mos më braktis, nënë!!!

Loti yt rëndon dheun mbi mua
Nënë…?!

© 2019, Faruk Buzhala

Posted in The BeZine, The BeZine Table of Contents

The BeZine, March 2019, Vol. 6, Issue 1, Waging Peace

The Mass of Humanity from the Fountain of Time Sculpture by Lorado Taft

“May there be peace in the heavens, peace in the atmosphere, peace on the earth. Let there be coolness in the water, healing in the herbs and peace radiating from the trees. Let there be harmony in the planets and in the stars, and perfection in eternal knowledge. May everything in the universe be at peace. Let peace pervade everywhere, at all times. May I experience that peace within my own heart.” Yajur Veda 36.17)



At The BeZine when we discuss Waging Peace, we mean radical peace. We mean putting down weapons and using words. We are realists. We don’t envision a utopia. We do envision compromise, an imperfect peace but peace non-the-less.

Some of our contributors rightfully see Waging Peace as a path that starts with inner peace. Others were moved to bear witness, to raise consciousness, or to imagine a world at peace and some are inspired to suggest potential solutions.

It’s quite a package we gift you with today from poets and writers representing several of the world’s wisdom traditions and about ten countries including those of the U.K., Western Europe, Eastern Europe, the Indian Subcontinent, Africa, and the U.S.. Soul stirring. Thought provoking.  Satisfying.

Thanks to all our contributors, to our core team members, and to the readers who are an important part of this effort. Please read, “like”, and comment. You – and your thoughts – are valued.

On behalf of The Bardo Group Begines
and in the spirit of love (respect) and community,
Jamie Dedes
Founding and Managing Editor

Photo credit: Fountain of Time courtesy of Johntb17  (Wikipedia) under CC BY-SA 3.0

TABLE OF CONTENTS

How to read this issue of THE BeZINE:You can read each piece individually by clicking the links in the Table of Contents or you can click HERE and scroll through the entire zine.

BeAtitudes

Keeping Quiet, Pablo Neruda

Peace Rocks and Peace Roles, Corina Ravenscraft

Insecurity …, John Anstie

Pity the Nation and Let Us Be Poets, Voices of the Poet Prophets, Khalil Gibran & Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Poems

There’s a Chance, Johannes Beilharz

The Love in the Heart, Faruk Buzhala

The Way of Blessing, Wendy Bourke
Righteous Path, Wendy Bourke

Ethnic Cleanser, Paul Brooks
A Wealth, Paul Brookes
On Innocence, Paul Brookes
I’m Just About, Paul Brookes
Warlord, Paul Brookes
Two Tied, Paul Brookes
She Says, Paul Brookes

Ancient Messenger, Judy Capurso

At the End of War, DeWitt Clinton

Under Siege, Mahmoud Darwish

The Flautist Wears a Shaman’s Headdress, Jamie Dedes
The Plotting of a Story, Jamie Dedes
The Razor’s Edge, Jamie Dedes

Peace Alphabet, Michael Dickel
Here I Stand, Michael Dickel

Picket Fences, Irma Do
Tundra, Irma Do
Recycling Shakespeare for a Better World, Irma Do

Why You Came to Earth, Tikvah Feinstein

Boats on Blue, Joan Leotta
Damascus Cloak, Joan Leotta

the rock tumbler, Charles W. Martin

My Five-Five Fingers, Tomisin Olusala Martins
Flowers of Embers, Tomisin Olusala Martins

Only Collaboration, Carolyn O’Connell

Totem Stump, Myra Schneider

Open Door, Moe Seager

The Irony of Plowshares, Mike Stone

Drop the Guns and Let Us Be Poets, Anjum Wasim Dar

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The Love in the Heart

I built a huge heart

Shelter for all the people of world

In it, sins vanish,

colors blend,

languages melt down.

You can read in all directions:

Long live Love,

Long live Peace.

Where flowers don’t need to be watered,

Where bodies want kisses and hugs,

Where every cumulus above heads scintilates,

Where souls are not held by chains.

© 2019, Faruk Buzhala 

Posted in General Interest, The BeZine, The BeZine Table of Contents

April 2017, Vol. 3, Issue 7, Celebrating interNational Poetry Month

April 15, 2017

Poetry Month means that we have arrived at

…the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain. (T. S. Eliot, The Wasteland)

One of the most famous poems “about” poetry, Marianne Moore‘s poem, “Poetry.” It famously begins with

I, too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond
all this fiddle.

However, she goes on in the very next lines to say

Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one
discovers that there is in
it after all, a place for the genuine.

There is much that is genuine in this April issue of The BeZine, which celebrates Poetry Month globally with our celebration of interNational Poetry Month. We are proud to present a wide variety of poets and poetry from all over the world. We have 45 posts of poetry (many with more than one poem), an essay, and one short story. This issue of The BeZine is an anthology!

Over the years, questions of poetry’s health, suggestions of its “death,” and concerns over who, if anybody, might be reading it, continue to swirl around in various articles, essays, and round tables. While many of the debates one might encounter in this bubbling broth come from a perspective of poetry’s decline, it seems to me that the reasons that such questions arise come from two primary sources.

One is an anxiety about how society values what we do, as poets or readers of poetry. It seems that the writers from this vein often worry that, in fact, society does not value poetry—as recorded in statistics about readership or as suggested by some other perceived decline in attention to it. The other vein, in my view, is a more healthy concern with what poetry is and what we are doing when we “do” poetry (read, write, critique).

This past year, a lot of words spilled onto the screen and page regarding Bob Dylan receiving the Nobel Prize—is a song writer a poet? Of course, poetry comes from song, so a song writer is a poet. Is poetry still song, then, or has it gone “beyond”? These articles and essays seem to flow from both of the sources I’ve suggested: anxiety and reflection. If our modest zine is any indication, poetry thrives throughout the world.

While the anxieties and reflections continue—and they are not new, witness the 1919 date of Marianne Moore’s poem—poets continue to write, and readers continue to read. You are reading this, so you are evidence of readers who have an interest in poetry. Whether there are more or fewer readers in any year or decade might fluctuate, or the methods of measuring them might change. However, as there are poets, there are those who read poetry. And listen to it—as in spoken word and slam.

Billy Collins opens his essay, The Vehicle of Language, suggesting that a problem with the reception of poetry is how poetry is taught:

For any teacher of poetry with the slightest interest in reducing the often high-pitched level of student anxiety, one step would be to substitute for the nagging and ultimately pointless question, “What does this poem mean?” the more manageable question “Where does this poem go?” Tracking the ways a poem moves from beginning to end puts the emphasis on the poem’s tendency to travel imaginatively and thus to carry the reader in the vehicle of its language.

In principle, I agree that the emphasis should be on where poetry goes, how it plays with language—not on decoding “meaning.” The same approach could be applied to the concerns expressed about poetry. The concerns need not be about where poetry is as measured against expectations of its current quality, akin to the “meaning” anxiety of its teaching.

Although some express an anxiety about the “quality” of online poetry or spoken word or even “today’s” written word, we would do well to reflect instead on where poetry is going, for us as readers and writers—where we as writers of it want to go with our poetry, and where we as readers of it want poetry to go to be most satisfying.

Poetry invites us to take an imaginative journey: from the flatness of practical language into the rhythms and sound systems of poetic speech. (Billy Collins, The Vehicle of Language)

It is our hope that you will read the poetry here with an appreciation for poetry’s “place for the genuine,” and find satisfaction in the depth and breadth presented here. Whether or not you will have “a perfect contempt for it” as you read, we leave up to you…

Michael Dickel
Contributing Editor


TABLE OF CONTENTS

Celebrating interNational Poetry Month

To Read this issue of The BeZine

  • Click HERE to read the entire magazine by scrolling, or
  • You can read each piece individually by clicking the links below.
  • To learn more about our guests contributors, please link HERE.

Poetry

April Fool, Iulia Gherghei
Barricades and Beds, Aditi Angiras
The Burgundy Madonna, Patricia Leighton
Common Ground, Dorothy Long Parma
dancing toward infinity, Jamie Dedes
Don’t Let Fall Go – sonnet, Liliana Negoi
Donatella D’Angelo | unpublished poems 2016
Dreaming of Children, Renee Espiru
A few from the vaults …, Corina Ravenscraft
Four Poems by Reuben Woolley
Full Buck Moon and other poems by Lisa Ashley
gary lundy’s poetics | 5 prose poems
A geography of memories | Reshmi Dutt-Ballerstadt
Grandmother, Dorothy Long Parma
having found a stone in my shoe …, Charles W Martin
healing hands …, Charles W Martin
Kali, Gayle Walters Rose
Kinga Fabó | 3 Hungarian Poems in Translation
Lead Boots, David Ratcliffe
levels, Liliana Negoi
luke 10:25-37…, Charles W Martin
Melissa Houghton | 3 Poems
Michael Rothenberg and Mitko Gogov
Ms. Weary’s Blues, Jamie Dedes
not with a bang but a whimper, three poems, Jamie Dedes,
One of My Tomorrows, John Anstie
patriarichal wounds…, Charles W Martin
Poetry and Prayer, Phillip T Stephens
PTSD Children, Charles W Martin
Rachel Heimowitz | Three Poems from Israel
the red coat, Sonja Benskin Mesher
Science Fiction, Phillip T. Stephens
Socks | Michael Dickel
Spring in my Sundays, Iulia Gherghei
Standing Post: Trees in Practice, Gayle Walters Rose
Teaching Poetry | Michael Dickel
Terri Muuss | and the word was
The Marks Remain, David Ratcliffe
Three Poems by Paul Brookes
Three Poems by Phillip Larrea
Three Poems from Albanian | Faruk Buzhala
To Our Broken Sandals, Mendes Biondo
To the Frog at the Door, Jamie Dedes
Two Poems by Denise Fletcher
Valérie Déus | 3 Poems

BeAttitude

Look Upon My Works, Ye Mighty, Naomi Baltuck

Short Story

Whispers on an April Morning Breeze, Joseph Hesch


Except where otherwise noted,
ALL works in The BeZine ©2017 by the author / creator


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