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World Poetry Movement Hazaristan

Kamran Mir Hazar — 2023-02-25T16:41:47Z

Dear Fellow Poets in Asia and Across the Globe, Dear Coordinators of the World Poetry Movement, and Directors of International Poetry Festivals

First, I would like to pay my respect to all Hazara victims of ongoing genocide, ethnic cleansing, forced displacement, and discrimination. All members of the Hazara stateless nation are now struggling and trying to #StopHazaraGenocide. On behalf of the World Poetry Movement - Hazaristan, I would like to ask the global poetry community to stand with the Hazara like before by writing poems about the past, present, and future of the Hazara and Hazaristan in their native languages.
I also want to express my solidarity with the neighboring ethnicities and communities, such as the Uzbek, Tajik, Turkmen, Baloch, and Nooristani. We are the victims of the ongoing long-term deadly strategies to be eliminated from our homeland, for instance, forcing the Turkic of South Turkestan to Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, Tajiks to Tajikistan, the Hazara of Hazaristan to graveyards, and the rest, to be the servants of the racial hegemony.
Here, I also wish to pay my respect to the victims of the recent earthquake in Turkey and Syria.
We are here to have poetry, not as a vehicle to carry things but as the spiritual ground to migrate from death to life.

Dear Fellow Poets,
It is very challenging to communicate with the world of politicians, a world with many conflicting interests and hypocrisy. I've seen many times politicians talking about democracy and human rights but later sitting next to terrorists and dictators, laughing and making decisions about the fate of millions of victims. I've seen many times how members of oppressive groups and regimes play on both sides, abusing the rights of others and, at the same time, pretending to be defenders of human rights and democracy that deserve to be Nobel Peace Prize winners.
The war against the native peoples in the Central and South Asia region started at least two centuries ago with the forced displacement of the Hazara. Then in the early and late 19th century, the genocide of over 60% of the Hazara, Hazara slavery, and invading the Hazara land Hazaristan, from the very south to the north. Then they went after other neighboring peoples. Finally, they could occupy Hazaristan, South Turkestan, and the shared cultural-historical Khorasan.
So-called Afghanistan appeared on the maps following the tragedies and systematic crimes against the native peoples. The oppressive regimes, politically, financially, and militarily backed by the British governments, committed all sorts of crimes, from burning people and books written in the language of natives to jailing children, women, and men. Victims suffered all levels of oppression, including ideological institutional, interpersonal, and internal oppression.
As part of the persecution policy, the natives were forced to accept a fake and injected identity called Afghan. They also were forced to be considered minorities based on nothing, no reliable data, but hypocrisy, force, and violence.
Those misleading narratives have become so dominant that even today, international human rights organizations and well-known researchers sometimes cannot distinguish when investigating the roots of such crimes and the current critical human rights situation.
The genocide of the Hazara is not only the physical elimination of the Hazara, those acts mentioned in the second article of the genocide convention but also cultural genocide. The worldwide poets state in their open letter dated the 21st of March 2017 that “destroying Hazara history and promoting an inaccurate, demeaning history of their culture have been further strategies, in addition to violent crimes.” While the Hazara have been facing genocide, the identity of many cultural and literary Hazara figures was stolen and presented as those related to others, not the Hazara. The attackers and invaders banned celebrating the new year, called Nawruz. They destroyed two most famous masterpieces of humanity's oral and intangible heritage, the female and male buddhas in Bamiyan Hazaristan. In our native Hazara language, we call the female Buddha, Khonok Bot, the cold, and the male Buddha, Sorkh Bot, the hot, both of them representing love, kindness, and loyalty.

Dear Poets,
In the 21st century, the Hazara native and stateless nation still suffer the same crimes. The only difference is that the criminals of the 19th century reemerged, some as suicide bombers and some while enjoying ethnic privilege as political lobbyists in the international environment.
We tried to reform society and take it from the middle age to a human-centric era by respecting and promoting diversity, and human rights, including women's rights. We formed social and civil movements, such as the Hazara Enlightenment Movement, offering flowers, poetry, education for all, music, and love. However, the response we received was more marginalization and oppression at all levels, in addition to attacks on our schools, clubs, clinics, and our every sort of gathering. For instance, On the 23rd of July 2016, when the Hazara Enlightenment Movement had a peaceful protest in Kabul, the corrupt Afghani government isolated the rally in one part of the city by security forces and putting containers on the roads. Then some Afghani suicide bombers killed and injured hundreds of the Hazara peaceful protesters. Last year, in September 2022, they attacked a Hazara education center called Kajj Education center and killed dozens of our children, primarily girls. As such, crimes are too many.
So, what was or what is the reaction of the international community, including world political leaders and international organizations? Maybe saying "NOTHING" is not the correct answer when the whole country and most of the military equipment of NATO and the USA left for suicide bombers. Those suicide bombers formed a government based on one ethnicity and one gender, the male. They follow racial hegemony and ban women entirely from social, cultural, economic, and political activities. From the lens of intersectionality, women from native communities are in a weaker position. Those suicide bombers even forbid writing and reading poetry that does not obey their racial hegemony.
And yes, we also see some poor statements from the international community, first, ignoring the identity of victims based on misleading dominant narratives and second, ignoring the international community's responsibility regarding conventions such as the genocide convention.

Hazaristan Chapter of the World Poetry Movement

Dear Poets in Asia and Dear Poets Across the Globe,
The history of Hazaristan in the past and its contemporary history also have another side. That side is marked by Hazara resistance, uprising, protests, civil movements, cyber activism, and promoting human rights and equality. In the last months since October 2022, after the bloody attack on our schoolgirls, over 30+ million tweets were posted containing the hashtag #StopHazaraGenocide.
We protested in over 120 cities in different countries, including Australia, New Zealand, South Korea, India, Pakistan, Turkey, Germany, England, Denmark, Norway, Italy, Switzerland, The United States, Canada, and Brazil. Those protests, while raising the flag of Hazaristan, are to raise global awareness toward rewriting history, stopping the Hazara genocide, and reverse engineering oppression.

That side of our history also has poetry and literature, folklore, tales, and the native narratives passed from one generation to another to keep history, culture, and identity alive. As the Japanese poet Ban'ya Natsuishi explains, “The Hazara people of central Asia overlapped various cultures; they enriched our civilization.
We have thousands of folk poems, thousands of proverbs, and hundreds of folktales. Those are besides our classical, solid literature, such as the poems of our great poet Jalaluddin Muhammad Balkhi Rumi.

Today, our entire community, including poets, writers, journalists, activists, and artists, are forced to be silent. They cannot have gatherings or publish and express themselves freely under the rule of suicide bombers. In the last two-three decades, many of them were jailed, kidnapped, threatened, killed, or injured. Many of them have been forced to leave the country. Some live paperless in Pakistan or Iran, and some as asylum seekers and refugees in other countries.
At this point, organizing many in critical security situations or stressful asylum processes is challenging. We at World Poetry Movement – Hazaristan initiated contacts and had some initial online meetings discussing how to organize and gather our poets who are scattered across the globe.
We also discussed starting Hazaristan Press as a publisher with a mission to make the books of our poets and writers available to readers in different countries and languages and global poetry in our native language.
In recent years, we managed to publish the poetry anthology Poems for the Hazara, which includes the contributions of 125 international poets from 68 countries dedicated to the Hazara. We also released two open letters signed by hundreds of international poets to support the Hazara and one signed by international poets and some PEN clubs to support the Hazara poets, writers, activists, and journalists living in a critical security situation.
We plan to have poetry workshops for those interested in writing professionally and learning about our classical and modern poetry, besides modern and contemporary world poetry.
Those things take time; however, we know we need them, and we know that we are connected to a network of professional poets worldwide via the World Poetry Movement. That is very helpful as our aim at the World Poetry Movement is to migrate from death to life.

Thank you
Official website of the World Poetry Movement

First Asian Congress of the World Poetry Movement (WPM)

Kabul Press - Investigative News & Analysis — 2023-02-15T18:43:07Z

The 1st WPM Asian Congress will be held on February 25-26, 2023, starting at 05.00 GMT to explore and celebrate poetry in Asia, to picture Asian poetry in the context of world poetry, to unite the poetry forces in the continent, and by intercultural dialogue and defining poetic actions, to contribute to the “Migration from Death to Life” and stands with those who face unjust.

Addresses to access live streaming:

The continental coordinators and national coordinators participating at the first Asian Congress of the WPM are Sue Zhu (China), Rati Saxena (India), Keshab Sigdel (Nepal), Vadim Terekhin (Russia), Nigar Hasan-Zadeh (Azerbaijan), Quamruzzaman Swapan (Bangladesh), Jidi Majia (China), Neşe Yaşın (Chipre), Kamran Mir Hazar (Hazaristan), Nahid Kabiri (Iran), Abdul Hadi Sadoun (Iraq), Keijiro Suga (Japan), Ali Al Ameri (Jordan), Ulugbek Esdauketov (Kazakhstan), Altynai Temirova (Kirgizstan), Antoine Boulad (Lebanon), Shivani Sivagurunathan (Malaysia), Imdad Aakash (Pakistan), Hanan Awwad (Palestine), Marra Lanot (Philippines), Saleh Zamanan (Saudi Arabia), Shirani Rajapakse (Sri Lanka), Lina Tibi (Syria), Kosimov Abdukakhor Sattorovich (Tajikistan), Adel Khosam (United Arab Emirates), Khosyat Rustam (Uzbekistan), Mohammed Al-Lawzi (Yemen), and Mai Van Phan (Vietnam).

Some international poets and observers will also attend the two-day Asian Congress.

The continental and national coordinators will present country reports, including poetic actions, plans, programs, and suggestions to promote poetry, poetic actions, and the presence of the WPM in the continent.

The Asian Congress of the WPM will take place virtually. It will be streamed live by the networks of the World Poetry Festival of Venezuela and the International Poetry Festival of Medellin.

The WPM is the global coordinator of poets and related organizations, including more than 3,000 poets from 150 nations, international poetry festivals, educational projects, and poetry publishing houses, with the coordination of
WPM.

Coordinating Committee of the World Poetry Movement Asia

Addresses to access live streaming:

YouTube
Facebook
Instagram
Website

Declaration of the WPM Africa, Resolution on the Promotion of Poetry and the Freedom of Expression

Kabul Press - Investigative News & Analysis — 2023-02-12T17:34:25Z

We, the Poets in Africa, gathered in a Virtual Congress Meeting from 21 to 22 January 2023 under the banner of the World Poetry Movement (WPM). The Congress was attended by Poets from several African counties, representatives of Governments of the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela and the Republic of Colombia, and graced by the attendance of Poets from other Continents; Asia, Europe, Latin America, et al. Under the leadership of the WPM Coordinator and founder Comrade Fernando Rendon, the Congress was officiated.

1. In realizing the importance of poetry in our cultures and indigenous languages, the role and function it plays in social cohesion and in healing the ills of societal challenges and moral decay,
2. In noting the need for us to work collectively to enrich the work of the WPM in the mother continent for the development of poetry in particular and literature in general, in order to conscientize the people of Africa about a myriad of strategic perspectives on freedom, peace, justice and unity of purpose, we, therefore, resolve to undertake the following action plans:
(a) to promote that poetry be made compulsory in all African primary schools and secondary education as part of the syllabus.
(b) to use poetry as an instrument that can best protect, preserve and promote indigenous languages in Africa.
(c) to use poetry platforms to highlight our resolve against neo-colonization and imperialism that continues to exploit the masses politically and economically.
(d) to champion the cause of decolonization in all spheres of life in Africa.
(e) to hold the Congress on an annual basis
(f) to elect an executive committee that is representative of the 5 regions of Africa annually.
This year, during the 1st Congress, which took place from 21st January 2023 to 22nd January 2023, the WPM Africa approved three resolutions. The first resolution is continental-specific and is geared towards increasing the visibility of poetry virtually and face-to-face in our various countries in Africa by holding an annual WPM African Poetry Festival and Congress. The publishing of an annual WPM Africa anthology with an adult and a school version augments students' understanding and appreciation of poetry, as well as provides opportunities for the creative writing of poetry to cater to the needs of the young.
The second resolution highlights the importance of making poetry accessible to everyone by institutionalizing poetry through policies that make poetry and literature a part of curricula in early education and secondary schools.
The third resolution is dedicated to the need to call out the systematic repression of poets and writers and the lack of freedom of expression in Africa and across the globe.
Resolutions:
Continental
Create a WPM Africa Youtube channel- Upload poetic material- poems, events, publications etc.
Commence an annual Africa poetry chain and have it digitally collaged and published on the Youtube channel proposed.
Publish an African Poem Anthology annually -A school's version and an adult version concurrently.
Hold an annual WPM African Poetry Festival and Congress (virtually & face-to-face).
Country specific
Poetry workshops and sessions, inclusive of schools, are to be uploaded on social media platforms
Poetry competitions-internal and collaborative with other African countries, also to be uploaded onto social media platforms.
Continuous recruitment of poets and poetry lovers per country.
Freedom of Expression
The need to call out the systematic repression of poets and writers and the lack of freedom of expression in Africa and across the globe.
The Assembly of Delegates of WPM Africa calls on all states in Africa to:
• Recognize the fundamental human rights and the freedom of expression of poets and writers and desist from the violation of free expression, and take all necessary steps to safeguard against this;
• Maintain transparency in government actions regarding activist poets and writers.
• Refrain from infringing on the freedom of expression.
Resolution on the Promotion of Poetry and the Freedom of Expression
Adopted by the Assembly of Delegates of WPM Africa during its Ist Preparatory Congress, held from 21st January 2023 to 22nd January 2023.

Black as I am

Obediah Michael Smith — 2020-07-18T19:46:03Z

Zindsi Mandela
23 December 1960
to 13 July 2020

how like a plant she was
how just planted she was
when, in 1978, her book of poems,
Black as I am, was published

with photographs by Peter Magubane,
Foreword to it by Andrew Young

used to carry her book of poems, 8.5 x 11 Inches,
about with me everywhere I went
used to teach it, used to share it with my classes

recall having it while I taught
at Inagua All-Age School for two terms, in 1986

when exactly did I buy it/from where did I buy it

might I have purchased it from the bookstore
at Fisk University that I attended for a year

I loved those poems, I loved the author of them,
I loved the photographs that accompanied her poems

how I identified with the voice of that young,
female, South African, freedom fighter

somehow, all those years, I kept her as young
as she was when she penned the poems in her book

decades passed without a word about her or out of her
I myself a poet, unable to be quiet, unable to shut up

in the interim, she had grown up, mother with children,
her dad, after 27 years, released from prison

she and her sister whom she followed,
ambassadors, representing South Africa…

heard last night, on Democracy Now, that Zindzi,
Nelson Mandela's youngest child, has passed away, at 59

what a blow to hear that, took my breath…
younger than I by 7 years and dead already

shocked and surprised but, my God,
between Black as I am and now,
what a massive tree she had grown into

though inside me I'd kept her 18
that voice, that child, that innocent

switched immediately from news I was watching,
located on YouTube, an interview, from 2018,
at the Edinburgh International Book Festival,

with Allan Little, where she was launching,
Grandad Mandela, a book about her father, for children

what a great spokeswoman she had evolved into
what titanic strength, what awesome confidence

oh, but how could she have escaped with input
from her parents, Nelson and Winnie Mandela

oh, but so soon she's gone, too soon she's gone

forces that fostered her, that shaped her,
have as well undone her

in what fire was she forged
was it that same intense heat

of being out there on the front line
that has undone her also

how unhappy I am to see her go/that she is gone

I must locate my copy of Black as I am
I must read it again - what an inspiration it was

unable to locate my first copy,
I located and purchased a replacement
from Amazon.com ten years ago

oh, but there is no second copy of her
available anywhere on earth, anywhere in this world

Waters of Baptism

Obediah Michael Smith — 2020-01-19T08:29:09Z

A poem

facts in poems I fashion
are facts actually, usually

going about since October,
last year, for eight months now,
with this interesting information

interestingly, since hearing of this,
it has become even more interesting

since hearing of this, Donald Trump
has become president of the USA

and what makes it
additionally interesting yet,
is that I am at present the guest
of the Dean of St. Paul's Cathedral
and his family, here in Blantyre, Malawi

I am certainly very happy to be living
upon the very grounds of the cathedral

which permits me to be served porridge
and to eat it and then to attend prayers,

Monday to Saturday, for 30 minutes,
commencing at 8 AM each morning

the Dean of the Cathedral
and I are friends, I can certainly say

our friendship commenced, actually,
with our very first meeting,
a conversation in his office
which lasted for more than 4 hours

it was in that conversation when I was told
of the Dean's having sojourned in New York

as a younger priest, told of how, in 2007,
after a baptism he performed, he was informed
that he had just baptized the grandson of a billionaire

that billionaire being, Mr. Donald Trump,
same Donald Trump who, ten years since
is the 45th president of the USA

amazing how humble the Dean
of the cathedral is

his wife and he have four daughters,
he was born in 1964, ten years after I was

wondering ever since hearing this story
if Donald Trump is aware
that this humble African Anglican priest
baptized his now ten-year-old grandson

this poem is my attempt to whisper in his ear
to make a connection for whatever it is worth,

with Malawi and the president of the USA
with Donald Trump and Blantyre, Malawi

with the president of the USA and the Dean
of St. Paul's Anglican Cathedral, here in Malawi

small world, certainly is indeed a true statement

same Donald Trump used to own
what is now Atlantis, on Paradise Island,

largest tourist resort in the entire Bahamas
where I am from

how our lives touch, knitted together,
a vibrant variety of colors to make a world

Is it Necessary to be Nasty to Fix the Sewerage Pipes

Obediah Michael Smith — 2019-09-07T07:10:17Z

old as he was
how surprising it was
to hear he has died

end of a life, end of a time
a long life, a long time

a life of dissent
to say, I object and not care
who he offended takes courage

to live and be
unpopular with so many
in so many constituencies

in the powerful countries
of the world

to be as stubborn as that,
as Fidel Castro, as Lee Kuan Yu

but
it cost him, his country,
his people economically,
it cost his country its currency

when it came to be worthless
it was replaced, at one time
with South African Rands
and after with dollars of the USA

what conviction, how tenacious
that he seemed not to be affected
by embarrassment nor humiliation

he believed in himself, in his stance
he would if he could, singlehandedly,

break the back
of the idea of white superiority

he was not going to be one
to bow down to it
to genuflect, to accept

it was equality that
he wanted established,
restored, that he wanted to bring about

without waiting centuries
for people of Africa and of
African descent to evolve

his life, a revolution even if of one

he'd be an upheaval
like when/like what
nature throws up

without caring what was spat or spewed
or what or who was crushed
in the rage, in the wave
or when earth opens up

what can be achieved
when our aim
is to be nice, to be liked

when these govern
our decisions, our actions

oh, the beauty that follows after
or that is attached to disaster

the cataclysm that resulted
in what is now Victoria Falls

how phenomenal, how awesome
and with what power

nature spreads its wings
and commences to fly

all the planets in the universe in orbit

in our short lives, fewer usually
than 100 years to live,

leaves little or no time
to be nice, to be liked, to be shy

Two Poems: Crossing Frontiers and Crossing the Road

Althea Romeo-Mark — 2019-04-24T14:55:13Z

Crossing Frontiers

The faces, within bullet proof cubicles,
wear emotionless masks. Greetings are brisk.
Bureaucrats are robotic-ready with drilling questions:
Name? Country? Reason for visit?

They will listen to the stories
of the nobodies on slow-moving lines,
from a land without rain;
and a country where the rich
own everything except some souls;
and a family from a place
where clan is killing clan
to assert domination;
and people born into the wrong religion,
butchered and burned;
and mothers, daughters and sisters
living low down in human hierarchy,
mere beasts to many, forced into servitude;
islanders from places where
the sea has reclaimed the land;
the helpless fleeing volcanoes
awake after years of sleep;
the homeless escaping
the destructive marriage
of deadly wind and rain.

The well-secured listen. Duty demands it.
They have been anointed to lord over others,
decide the fate of brothers and sisters
of different shades of skin,
different nationalities and cultures.

Do the stories fall on deaf ears?
Are the nobodies'voices
just a droning sound,
the white noise of routine?

©Althea Romeo-Mark 2018,

Crossing the Road

(“There but for the Grace of God….”)

They said he died
like a chicken crossing the road,
body thrown into the air
and on the landing-smash,
his spirit flew like a feather
into the evening light,
the sinking sun catching it,
taking it down,
taking it back
from where it came,
into the mist,
into the abyss,
the beginning of things.
We were wide-eyed-witnesses.

Did he matter?
Did he leave behind
markers of his deeds, his worth?

We turn away, run away.
Our fragility and
mortality headlining our thoughts,
sparse achievements hanging
like clothes over a fence.

Realism is now neon-lighted,
for “there but for the grace of God
we go.”

© Althea Romeo-Mark 2018

Five Poems: Someone Else's Eye, Music Remains, Emptiness, Young Love and Time

Winston Morales Chavarro — 2019-04-23T17:19:16Z

I

The days gone by, where do they go?

Those little shadows of what one day was the sun?

Why what they call tomorrow is so elusive?

What rose from behind the mountains like a future?

The skin gels

Bones break

And days run like straw filaments in someone else's eye.

II

Only the music remains after death

An old whisper of what we were

Will remain suspended over the candlewood of time

Perhaps someone will follow our steps

The imprints erased by the bubblings of an acoustic ocean

At least we shall be that:

Old sandals worn by a girl who follows

What we thought was the road.

III

To the Italian poet
Gerardo Sangiorgio (1921-1993)

And to think that nothing remains

That everything said is like a arrow thrown to the wind.

That even the words are evanescent

Fragile before the lips that pronounce them

That they could

(should) have been kept quiet

Everything is so fleeting

The raised hand

the tight fist

The craving mouth of desire

Nothing remains

Logic is impermanence

The anchor that holds on to death.

And its purest emptiness

IV

Days in the calendar

Are like ash birds

Curled towards a tiny windmill.

How the hours pass by surprises us

The unmasked skeletons of the years

Everything runs like a star made of ice
Like a meteorite without shadows
Amazing the blinking of the eyes
Before the vision of gone by trienniums
...Of what was one decade ago.
Time is like that
A flake of hardened snow
Melted on the spiral of a lightless brazier.

V

My young love

Speaks of lustrums and decades

As if they were a flower open

To the tongue of a butterfly

It is as if from its mouth everything would rejuvenate

Everything would acquire the shine of cellophane

For the Christmas we haven't had yet

My young love speaks to me of Winter.

As if the time for autumn were still distant

For her, departures don't exist

Our children rejoice on the tree of the night

the naked bellies await the warmth of a new moon

My young love doesn't know a hundred years

Lasts only what a wick on a lamp's surface.

Everything is gone for both of us

It all has ended for the both of us

My young love embraces me

She doesn't know that one grows old

While a leaf falls on the garden's lawn.

Five Poems: This Life, Belief, Foreign Land, Desert and The Old Mountain

Chandra Gurung — 2019-04-19T07:56:57Z

This Life

This life,
From the cup of a tea early in the morning
Carrying desires of touching skies
Soars high in the form of steam.

After a while
Dashes here and there
Wanders around the world of fantasy.
And finally,
Dissolves into nowhere before realizing its dream.

Sometimes,
Standing on an estranged place
I slowly sip the tea of life
Prepared without sugar and tea leaves,
Neither any color,
Nor any taste,
And without any sweetness in it,
Only to subside the hunger of dreams
And to quench the flirty thirst of desires.

This life-
Starts every morning
With many thoughts boiling inside me,
But wears out
By everyday exhaustion and failures.
Every evening,
Stinks badly like the rotten dreams
And spreads the foul odor of
Bitter experiences
In every nook and corner of heart.

Belief

Since you've arrived
The bouquet of roses over the stand—
Kindly adorn them in the vase of your heart
And let the fragrance of love prevail.

Prepare two chairs on the terrace
And let's park ourselves to some dear moments
Over the table—
Put a bottle of wine and a couple goblet
We shall have tête-à-tête—
Sparing a fragment of life.

Take a glance—
Over my exhausted wardrobe
Over the orphaned books, pens and papers
Over the cigar stubs reclining like a corpse
Over the crumpled face on the mirror
Awaiting everyone—
Is your gentle caress.

On a murky brightness of twilight
Solitary you, appeared at my threshold
This jiffy—
All over my body
Gushing is a wave of affection.

Make sure
Not to shut the window panes
This is a belief—
Always my heart hath
Of your homecoming.

Foreign Land

In this alien land,
I have brought two eyes
Always seeing the towering dreams.
Along with,
I have two hands that toil day and night
And, the legs measure more journeys of life.

In this alien land,
I have brought my lip
That smiles sometimes.

In this alien land-
Time has danced joys
Lip has bloomed colourful smiles.
Life has accumulated much happiness.

My friend
I have everything, in this foreign land
Joys
Smiles
Laughter
Happiness.
Only I don't have is a heart,
That could fit all these,
But it is left somewhere behind
In my own land.

Desert: A Life in Mirage

On the canvas of countenance
Not a single streak of smile is sketched.
Neither is grace seen blooming over cheeks
Like a garden
Where every beauty has flown away
This bland desert!

All around is desiccated brushwood
Come the parched hands of breeze
To caress the youth
The lonesome eyes devoid of exhilaration
The mountain of solitude
Taking heights gradually inside!

For all day long
The eyes keep meeting with the blithe sun
Wind keeps teasing
As if it could attract a stranger with its youth
As if it would woo someone with its impish gesture
Waiting for an amorous embrace
Like a bride's dream is thus desert living!

In the barren bosom adorned are date trees green
Festooned between earlobes are the poised cacti
In the caravan of copious desires
A mirage life this desert is !

The Old Mountain

Always -
Silent
Pensive
Focused
As if it's aiming the firmament of fantasy
Swimming the sea of thoughts
That old mountain.

Around the dead silent caves of ears
Birds chirp mellow euphony
The winds fly past whistling its archaic tune
Thrusting out from the shoulders
With long leaps
The rivers play waterslide.

The clouds come in tiptoe to blindfold
The storm imposes a sturdy kick
In the rage of having deterred its way
The unabashed headstrong breeze
Runs away nipping its cheek.

The bolt of thunder inflicts a sharp jolt
The sun set ablaze a wildfire
On the crags all over the shoulders
Drenching in silence
It withstands the monsoon.

From time immemorial-
In the springs of euphoria
In the winters of dearth
Nurturing buds of poetry in every nook of heart
Like a bard
Standing is that old mountain.

Shall I compare thee to a Summer's Day

Obediah Michael Smith — 2018-04-20T05:54:39Z

Shall I
compare thee
to a Summer's Day
[For Winnie Madikizela-Mandela,
26 September 1936 – 2 April 2018]

did she fall
was she fallen

if she did,
when did she fall

did she fail,
was she tarnished

think of Job
and his temptations

think of the trials that arose
all that he was put through,
pushed through

and he did not submit
he did not succumb

I've heard of police officers
interrogating suspects

heard someone tell
of having his head

shoved into a toilet bowl
with feces – police officers

demanding that he confess
that he committed the crime

I know that it is possible
to be pushed
until we break, until we snap

until we are no longer
who we were

did this happen to her

oh, to be pushed past
the breaking point

and what are you then
what are you when this happens

I see books for sale by many
along sidewalks, here in Harare,
downtown – their covers faded

is it that they have been
bleached until bland,
sitting out in the sun

oh, for those in our societies
who have been so stressed,
so deprived, so depressed

that their humanity has been
twisted, damaged,

so much so- to such an extent
that what is left is subhuman,
is scary

what is left are monsters,
creatures who would do you harm
to get one dollar from you

to get ten Rand or whatever
they consider to be valuable

see those for whom
life is worth so little
that they fling themselves down

anywhere upon the ground
and sleep there

sound asleep for hours
wherever they dropped
themselves – not unlike litter

oh, how such souls have fallen
oh, for dignity, for who
and for what sustains it

oh, for that support that
love inspires

we see the crimes
that some commit

for which they are charged
for which they must pay

and often,
we forget to connect
or fail to connect the crimes
committed again such persons

crimes to which
they were subjected
that resulted in the crimes
that they commit, the situations

that they descended into
or were plunged into

in many instances these crimes
are crimes of states
of the state against the individual

Nelson and Winnie, pulled apart,
apartheid separating them

how were they, their children,
supposed to survive that

and in what shape
or bent out of shape

they gave their lives up
for the new state

so that a new
state in South Africa
could come into being

کابل پرس

World Poetry Movement Hazaristan

First Asian Congress of the World Poetry Movement (WPM)

Table of contents

Addresses to access live streaming:

Declaration of the WPM Africa, Resolution on the Promotion of Poetry and the Freedom of Expression

Black as I am

Waters of Baptism

Is it Necessary to be Nasty to Fix the Sewerage Pipes

Two Poems: Crossing Frontiers and Crossing the Road

Table of contents

Crossing Frontiers

Crossing the Road

Five Poems: Someone Else's Eye, Music Remains, Emptiness, Young Love and Time

Table of contents

I

II

III

IV

V

Five Poems: This Life, Belief, Foreign Land, Desert and The Old Mountain

Table of contents

This Life

Belief

Foreign Land

Desert: A Life in Mirage

The Old Mountain

Shall I compare thee to a Summer's Day