Give me a little earth. A place in the sun. A bowl of shelled, salted and roasted peanuts. Let me have a piece of the supernatural universal in my hands. Give me something to grow in the chilled earth that was once made of volcanic rock. I do not really care what you give me to grow just not hidden sadness, or egoism. Too many people let egoism grow on them and then they call it arrogance. Once arrogance is in the picture then your whole wide world is turned asunder. At some point in your life, you are going to stand alone. Sometimes it feels like an hour. Can be longer. Wait for it. It is coming. Like winter in the air. Clouds that look like people. The human being does not know how organic conversation is. It is just as organic as depression, or any other mental illness is. It is just as organic as paperwork.
The girl saga is the role model who puts a mask to lead the limping Nation to clap in pomp and applause at visiting dignitaries. She is the epitome of maternal care oozing smiles under cracked lips from excess showmanship of bottled pain and buried grief. She dances well on wooden feet to songs laced with sarcasm and sensual innuendos that she no longer understands or cares to. Hers is the seat of queen-ship spiked with thorns the size of ram horns. Hers is the champion of losers of inner debates that the world would be shocked to know. Hers is a choreographed hymn that praises the devil in blatant lies and heavy breathing. Nowhere is this spirit of diminished presentation of the Lilly of the forest and bush tales of culture preservation more pronounced than among people speaking loftily about equal rights. If it’s not domesticated hooliganism, its sexual predatory tendencies. If it’s not battery, its drudgery. If it’s not penury, its beggary.
FRENCH FRIES AND NEWSPAPERS Today was beautiful weather. It is therefore mid summer and the weather gods play on spiritual drums. The sounds penetrate from the highest spheres -upper layers in the sky- on the earth and bring the land and its residents in continuing trance. Consequences were unforeseeable. Everyone saw suddenly the light. As if something had become clear after a long reflection in silence, in remote places. I was sitting on a terrace eating French fries and enjoyed all sorts of revelations that fell to me, even the newspaper brought enlightenment because dark forces dominated the world for too long. Presidents of superpowers had voluntarily withdrawn from public life. Headlines. One went hunting and was not going to leave his dacha. The other left together with his wife hastily the White House to spend the rest of his life on golf courses. Their place was immediately taken over by shamans from Siberia and Brazil. Drums sound loudly across the plains to the gardens in the evening. Time heals old wounds. Something beautiful is waiting.
Juljana Mehmeti was born in the city of Durres, in Albania. Since she was a child she became fond of literature and writing, especially poetry, a genre that in the following years will turn into a real life motive, a way to better express her ideas, her thoughts, her visions and metaphysics , her point of view according to her consciousness but also improving the awareness of the same suggestion that surrounds the human world. The first book “Soft – Poems” published in Italian language attracted the attention of publishers and Italian literary criticism, not only for its particular style, but also for new words, the language used, the philosophical message and the currents present in her poems that go from Hermetism to Surrealism. The second book comes from the field of translation entitled “Vramendje” – (Rimugino “) of the Italian author Alessandro Ferrucci Marcucci Pinoli, which will constitute the first experience in this field, but will also strengthen his long-standing conviction, to know and translate in his language, many popular Italian authors.. The collection of poems “Oltrepassare” is her new book, which presents itself with the new tendencies of Albanian literature, postmodernism and universal consciousness, from experimental currents to absurdity. The last her book is “In his Light” She currently lives and works in Ancona, Italy. Translated by Arben Hoti
Corina Junghiatu is Director of the literature and art platform, World Literary Union. Director of the Romanian Voice magazine.Vice champion of the EUROPEAN Poetry Championship.Director of the WORLD poets ASSOCIATION.Book editor at Lyrical Graph publishing, Romania
It is very easy for society to blame culture and norms, and men for the demise of women writers; but we should note that there is an institution that transcends individuals at play. This institution favours male writers over female writers and gives a more powerful societal voice to the men as compared to the women. This institution forces women to give in to men who make sexual demands of them in order to establish their careers. This is the same institution that forced (in the West, back then) writers like the Bronte Sisters (Bell Brothers), J.K. Rowling (Robert Galbraith), and Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin (George Sand) to use male pseudonyms when publishing their masterpieces for fear of criticism. Though the world has moved on, the fact that the African writing circle is dominated by men makes it as equally hard to manoeuvre as the western writing industry of old
She reminds us with the prick of her paradoxical sickle that life can sometimes bloom like a flower, coughs like toddler , snakes life a river , and is sometimes melodious like a dove .Life can be both a gloom and glow .Her poem reveals the maturity. Her simple but deep verses leave no traces of doubt that the author is a revered teacher and does not strangle or twist grammar to reveal issues but rather flow with wave of verbal dexterity and lyrical simplicity without going to war with lines, verses and metaphors. She is a globally certified literature scholar, mentor and English Professor .
She chews bitter and sweet lyrics, marinates them inside chambers of her literary furnace, chews them again and then spits the cud upon the sun beaten Cape Verdean sands. Glória Sofia is a deep, versatile and an illustrious Cape Verdean poet with three published books and some more contributions in a number of anthologies. Sofia …
Jambiya is literary influencer , creativity for peace catalyst and freedom of expression literalist . She is one of the WOMAWORDS LITERARY PRESS first edition Guest Literary Voice.
Neither Mum nor the biology will answer Nnenna's questions about sex, menstruation and all the new things 14 year old Nnenna experiences in her body and emotions. Older sister Adaora tries to help, but, she's busy bunking out of the house for the social life Mum forbids. The "belles" in Nnenna's class mock Nnenna for her boyish frame and late start to her periods. But it's Nnenna that Kunle, the most attractive boy in the school falls for. Ify, one of the belles, goes after Kunle, pushing Nnenna to prove to Kunle that she is as sexy and attractive as the belles are. When Mum finds out about the relationship, Nnenna escapes Mum's violent punishments to find solace in Kunle's arms. The two young people do not foresee the consequences coming their way.