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The HALL OF FAME  is  a  collection of  PROLIFIC ( global) Writers , Editors ,Poets, Artists , Leaders and Artists  writing  pen in glove  and working hand in glove with  WOMAWORDS LITERARY PRESS  CURATOR   in AMPLIFYING Women VOICES through Literary Arts and other ARTS. The 2020 HALL OF FAME is composed of  *CONTINENTAL ASSOCIATES*  ( Contributing Editors), WRITERS,  #DAUGHTERS OF THE EARTH JURY MEMBERS , DAUGHTERS OF THE EARTH( 2020 main project) Fundraising Team, POET LAUREATE, Mentor in-Residence AND the Projects CURATOR.






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The words came like a thunderous bomb,

Shattering my mind, my brain,

Acidic anger churned sour yoghourt within:

“Vomit back the bile!”

The high and haughty spirit said within me.

“Nay, thou shall not retaliate.

Remember your royalty and nobility.

War cannot stop war!”


The words, unleashed from the pits of hell

hidden in the human frame,

came cascading like volcanic lava.

I held my tommy, it burnt like sulphur.

I held my head, it shocked like current from a naked high tension!

Yet, I held my peace.


But what was it?

How could such and enquiry, common questions,

Turn into such a war of words?

I made seven steps backwards,

to gaze, gaze.

“I must have been dreaming.”


The anger in the words of my comrade,

red peppered and at the same time bitter.

Was this necessary?

Was the offense worth the washing

in such hard and corrosive detergents?

Negation after negation followed each line

of my comrade’s letter.

Words travel fast.

Mr Internet is swift, swifter than light rays,

an obedient servant delivering faithfully.


I consider two things, pride and humility;

the latter sounds musical.

Peace is carried on the wings of humility,

I choose it.

The sea is less noisy than the waterfall that feeds it.

One must not always ask to be clapped for.

If you are in the arena,

the dance is less attractive in the absence of spectators.

The pen can build,

The pen can destroy,

I choose the former.




GERALDINE SINYUY earned her PhD in English (Commonwealth Literature) in May 2018 at the University of Yaoundé I, Cameroon.  She earned a Secondary and High School Teacher’s Diploma at the Higher Teachers Training College, University of Yaoundé I in 2005. Geraldine Sinyuy taught English as a Foreign Language at Government Technical College Bangoulap, Bangangte from 2006-2016. During this time, she took up a part-time job as Assistant Lecturer of Medical English at Université des Montagnes, Bangangte from 2010-2014.  She is currently an English Language and Literature in English teacher at Government Bilingual High School Down Town Bamenda, Cameroon.  Sinyuy also taught as an English Language part-time teacher (2005-2007) at English High School Yaoundé.Sinyuy started writing poems and short stories (particularly folktales) during her secondary school days.  She was often a participant and guest writer for the radio programme: Literary Workshop: a Programme for Creative Writing and Literary Criticism; CRTV Bamenda from 1993 – 2001. Sinyuy’s creative writing has taken her beyond national borders. In 2016, she performed one of her poems entitled “On a Lone and Silent Hill” during an International Conference on World Environment Day at Imo State University, Nigeria. Some of her poems are featured in online Magazines—“FIRED Up” and “ForeCreativeGirls”.  It is worth noting that Sinyuy’s creative works are mostly poems and short stories. In May 2017, Sinyuy was a Featured Storyteller at World Pulse Story Awards. She has published academic articles in both local and international journals. Her research areas include culture, gender and migration in Postcolonial Literatures in English. She is a member of the Anglophone Cameroon Writers Association; Academia Edu., and Research Gate.  She has published articles in both national and international journals. She is an advocate for organic farming and sustainable development.




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To read is to enter
a new world
A new unlimited world
with words, connections
and invaluable thoughts
on the other
of the unseen
of the untouched.

To read is to shelter
an enemy
when the guards are
looking for a scapegoat.

To read is resistance
to stupidity
to ignorance
to the unhealthy
you once
escaped from.

To read is to be.
To be the one
you can be
instead of the one
you are.

To read is to
reach the collective
mind of others

and for the
time of reading
escape the loneliness
that capsules you
in ignorance.

Once reading for
a woman was
a privilege.
To enter
the world
of men.
To enter
a forbidden

DOLORES MEDEN *( CONTRIBUTING EDITOR ,NORTHERN EUROPE)*  was born in Sweden by Croatian parents and have lived there all her life. A graduate of Bachelor of Arts in History of Religion. She also studied some languages, mostly Slovene and Chinese. She is a translator and have since translated one children’s book by Brane Mozetič from Slovene into Swedish and some of his poetry for a festival and for a magazine. She is a house wife, studying Spanish to expand her translating career.




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Had wondered if one girl could really make a difference

There is so much suffering around

Was always awake at


Took charge as a mother at ten

Drunk truck driver dad drank up his pay

Went to prison for failing to support us

We lived from hand to mouth on welfare

My siblings and

I were half death of hunger

Mother has her own share of problems too

Was lazy gripped with fear of unknown

Walked out and away never came back

Without a glimpse of the unknown future

Said she will bring home bread

Hours days months passed no mom no bread no food

Could not cater for her nine children

Felt her pains and fear fiercely

I took charge finally for better for worse

Went knocking on neighbors’ doors for food

We Stopped being a family that day she left

Siblings were sent to stay with different aunties

Some were turned into house helps in foster homes

Some suffered high degree of child labor

Was near death from malnutrition and infection

Dad died in prison of disease of the liver

Never knew mom’s whereabout

Was adopted by a strange super woman

Was showered with motherly love I never had

The only family I know until I became a woman

Was given an education

Became a human right lawyer

With family love knitted inside

Got my siblings back and reunited as family again

Talked feared heartbroken confused of abandonment

Child of miracle I am

Culled everybody together again

Took charge again

This time like a mother hen

God restored a family bruised broken beyond hope

His love so depth so powerful engrossed with possibilities

Wanted to make people see power in their lives

Wanted to meet to their immediate and raw needs

Human right activism took me to an abused young Teresa

Her mother was a drug addict

Said her addicted mother hits her mercilessly when under influence of drug

After the long walk through tale of moonlight

Gave her a shoulder to lean on

Confessed she never knew or met her dad

Slowly my steps seized my legs failed me

Felt grip of unmistakable sense of God’s love

The kind i felt at the family reunion

God worked through me to reach the tarnished unhappy abused girl

Told her a story about a girl

Whose parents had abandoned

Do you know what she’s doing now

She’s all grown now

For real, she asked

Theresa dear





She was in pool of her tears

Hugged her wept away the tears

God brought me to help you

He loves you like me

He will keep sending a helper

If you look for them wherever you go

Someone could make a difference

Little Teresa just showed me

Am determined to

Yes to make a difference

Silence is the last thing the world will ever hear from me

(C) Andrea Okoye

09, June, 2020

ANDREA OKOYE is a fast-rising Nigerian Wordsmith. Resistance poet devoted to free WOMA-NITY from the bondage of ancient cultural barbarism. Okoye is a seasoned Media guru and an esteemed publicity specialist. Having worked tirelessly in both print and electronic media stables.  Okoye is a graduate of Journalism, Public Relations and Marketing from prestigious institutions of higher learning. She has invested so much in education, that a great human achievement.   On top of her great writing and journalistic prowess. Okoye is a chartered Administrator, a Professional and Qualified Management Executive. Okoye is currently the Special Projects Editor of GEMINI Magazine. Former Communications Specialist of DAAR Communications. Independent Producer /Presenter at Purple Show, FM 100.5, Ray Power. Tourism and Business Correspondent at National Accord Newspaper. Columnist at Shackles and Slums. Program Officer at Youth Afrique Leadership Forum. Okoye is a Member of Nigeria Union of Journalists. Associate Member of Nigeria Institute of Management, a Member of Abuja Writers Forum and Amnesty International.Okoye graduated from prestigious University of Nigeria, Nsukka. I studied Statistics and Economics. Andrea Okoye was taught great writer Chimamanda Adichie’s father at the same University. Okoye is an acclaimed human rights activist






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The land is not just earth.
But one ploughed into existence.
As one removes each layer
Sweat,dreams and streams will flow.
Wherever the war is
Our heart walls are hurt.
Whichever field is burning
Yours or your neighbour’s,
It is life that starves.
It is the earth’s womb that turns bakrren.
When can we ever build a dream
that all can see together..?
When can we all join in one prayer
Under the same tree…?
As birds fly beyond borders,
I dream of a nationality
Where I am not a foreigner,
A dream of a singular Nationality.


Writer , Poet and Activist.Her activities were centered on
tribals. While working for their welfare, she also involved herself in
struggles against their exploitation and for their rights. She, who is
raising her voice constantly through essays and poems against the
injustices meted out to them by the society and the political system.She
also uses her word power against the attacks on women and children. She  is
saying ,Poetry is her soul but more than it like a weapon for her






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“We have risen so many times of faded auroras;

between the shadows and flaps of things

that kill the mornings of illusions.

The price of life auctioned

and the death that walks,

after the poor people

. The anxiety of my word is such (They put me in it, if necessary),

that escapes my hands.

Maybe it’s my certain potion for the one who has nothing,

for the one who lives sheltered from the burden.

For such a tiny eternity,

I try to abolish all distance;

open the successive doors of silences

, raising my voice … confronting injustice …

I bring life,

I decentralize the tricks,

I give you the password to the promised land:

We poets know when the seed is fertile

and we wrote poetry, in the memory of the peoples”



Argentine writer, Poet, Author of “Inmarcesible” (novel for which I was invited to participate in FILH 2019, Cuba). Teacher of initial and middle levels of the Province of Córdoba. Co-Founder of “Urpilitay” (containment foundation for orphan children). Cultural Promoter and Activist for women and people with disabilities. Ambassador of ALMA (Alzheimer) and ACDAC (deaf people). Convinced that poetry is the “Weapon of Massive Construction” of a World that is possible for ALL.






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My name is not enough, mother erred,
Malice iced jokes that carry rattling venom,
Especially of note,
Is butt and nose,
My tent of night hues bowed to slung,
Questioning my brains in unsavory rudiments,
See who the Savage is now?
Carrying a saintly name and a string of titles,
You furrow your brow when I spit,
Yet, the little skeletons full in your cupboard,
And the maids in the nude in your mansion,
How about the false drugs that kill instead of heal?
Dare I say you grow guns like Flowers?
Or that you are a night sponsor of mayhem,
You label me migrant when you dispossessed me,
You table me as statistics of displaced while you torched my home,
You feed me posho to dry my uterus,
Claiming my breeding is sewer rat style,
See how pointed your finger is to your long term investment,
Only the investment is an inventory of rot and robbery,
Deeply ingrained in every dusty path you walk,
And every hand you shake,
Talk to your self,
Lable in truth what the inner eye sees,
And perhaps, the world may rest
And glow from less labeling.



NANCY NDEKE  , Poet of international acclaim and a reputable literary arts consultant.Her Writings and Profiles  featured in several Collections, Anthologies and Publications  including the American magazine Wild Fire, Save Africa Anthology. World Federation of Poets in Mexico. Ndeke is a Resident Contributor of the Brave Voices Poetry Journal since Mid-2018. African Contributor to the DIFFERENT TRUTHS- A publication that sensitizes the world on the plight of Autism edited by Aridham Roy.  Ndeke’s Poetry and other Literatures in WILD FIRE PUBLICATION in America published by Susan Joyner Stumpf and Susan Brooke Langdon. ARCS MAGAZINE in New York Edited by DR. Anwer Ghani. Her Women  in Arts Presentation was recently published by WOMEN OF ART (WOA) in Cape Coast in Ghana and  in the  Soy Poesia in Peru. Claudette V pg 11 featured her writings with great reception.AZAHAR from Mexico, with the initiative from Josep Juarez has also featured her poetry. She is also featured in WORLD FESTIVAL OF POTRY (WFP) from Mexico under the able editorial team comprising Luz Maria Lopez .INTERNATIONAL AFRICAN WRITERS from Nigeria, under the able hands of Munyal Markus Manunyi .Patricia Amundsen from Australia featured her poetry on this year’s international women’s day at Messenger of Love, Radio Station. Esteemed poetess Jolly Bhattacharjee featured my works on her greatly acclaimed awareness anthology for 2019, India.



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I celebrate the castrated peace

Baptized by the goldfish

Sweats by mines sown

Distributed in coastal areas

I celebrate the ruins of your lips

The disgrace of your smells

What breaks in the stars of your hair


I celebrate the demolition of poetry

The dunes of drowning words

In a tablet grain


I celebrate the urgency of the destruction of the glow

Union of your eyes and sorrows

From letters that laugh at heartbreak


I celebrate miss the letters

Carmins breaking off from the clouds

From the bloody sky

And peace in splashes

Glória Sofia, is a dreamer as most poets. Born in in the city of Praia in Cape Verde, Gloria shares her dreams with her two children.

She graduated in Engineering and Environmental Management in the Azores, another place that she cherishes for allowing her to continue to be an islander.

Gloria is currently pursuing her masters in Management and Nature Conservation in Holland where she lives.

Ever fascinated by writing, she has played with words since she was a child, exchanging  dolls for diaries, and finding comfort when her secrets and thoughts are guarded in a white page.

Gloria’s poems capture moments of her journey and are full of passion and the emotions as the author herself

Gloria has grown to make her voice heard in different arenas, believing that in addition to writing about feelings she also needs to speak, shout or take action on some realities.

Among other poetry sites she collaborates with the online newspaper of magazine in the world.

She is also active in other cultural arenas, attending several poetry festivals and sharing her work in numerous websites and magazines (, Azahar, Miombo Publishing Lepan Africa etc…).

She participated in International Poetry Festival in (Curtea de Arges) Romania (2016), (Istanbul) Turkey (2017), Ditet & Naimit Macedonia / Albania (2018).






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There is something about poetry that arouses my soul, hardens my footing.


There is something about poetry that

Gives me stomach butterflies.


There is something about poetry that intrigues my curiosity.


There is something about poetry that tightens my hand and awakens my creativity.


There is something about African poetesses that smoothens my melanin,

Leaves my hands dripping ink, dresses me boldness, Buries my fear, burns my shyness.






Let the toddler girl in you dream woman.

Let your mind race bolt, become the president, own that publishing house.


Let the little girl go wild in her sweet

Dreams, let her be on every magazine cover, Michelle Obama was once just a dreamer too.


Fly little dreamer, go pave our future.

Don’t dry out yet.

Worry not if you chock on ocean dreams

Because you gonna sip on success soon.


A little girl from Chicago dreamt, now you are writing about her.

She dreamt and she became the First Lady of the world.

Dream little girl, dream divine.



It is dark in color

Dark like cobra

Blood became liquor

Darkned heart is made.


It was pure like silver

Lightening like a star

Moonlight was its smile

But now it is darkned by the

Somber moon from above.


I wonder when is its redemption

I miss the flashing smile like a diamond

In the sun. I miss the pure heart as it was

Darkness became natural.


I pray for the sun to shine up on it.

It is just a diamond in the dirt,

Once washed,  purity is eternal.

No more darkness in it.



  AKIMANA DIVINE  is a Rwandan poet, children story writer and a leader who draws her creativity from her life experience. Poetry to her is more than words but therapy. she has been published is different online magazines like THE UNIPERS, ATUNIS POETRY, MIOMBO PUBLISHING, WOMANWORD and others. She has a poem published in an anthology (BEAUTY OF FAILURE). She works as a magazine coordinator at TATO CHILDREN MAGAZINE in Rwanda and she volunteers in AFFLATUS AFRICA which is pan African youth led movement that is set to empower African youth through training and mentoring. She is a member in Easter African Youth parliament and A You lead Summit Alumni. She is currently working on her first novel.








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I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again
To us women! who refuse to be refused
Standing our ground and speaking
our minds,
no more pulling our
hair in anger
or speaking in silence
Something has changed,
I’m not talking about the change of seasons

or the turning of leaves here
We had to break in order to grow
now, as we stand today
all lessons learnt, tall and proud
let us not forget,
that to get here
we had to pass through that place between

nowcrhere and somewhere just before we hit

rock bottom,
The many mountains heavy on our heads,

we had to balance lest they bury us alive but

we survived
The words and not songs taught us the true

meaning of strong, resilience and patience,
Let us remember to remember,
all the women who had to be…then
so that we can be… today,
their dreams which live through us,
their vision that didn’t dry up together with

their tired bones…
Daughters, sisters and mothers…we’ve come a long way,
Define yourselves before they define you!
Be bold, be proud.


Born in the early 80s,CATHERINE MAGODO- MUTUKWA  is passionate mostly about women affairs and the girl child empowerment and advancement.She weaves together her passion and artistry in order to bring awareness to those disadvantaged in the society through her writing.






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If you play your hand in the hope of sensual offers of success, ponder the false imagery of hope
and indulge superficial calls of happiness, then that god owns a part of you.

It is mammon’s mental games that hold you captive as he webs a band of restlessness tightly around your desires and draws you in, one glowing sceptre at a time.

a god that manipulates your nutrition.
your dwelling place,
your habitation.

Chains of bondage dragging you inside the mangy walls of dark and damp dungeons from which you can be saved.

Yet you will never be free
if you appraise a crafty warlord;
bound by your inner rebellion and secret nurturing of what should be burnt and banished.

Stop sharing space with the dead from which you should run;
find no pleasure in popcorn peace
lest you be submerged in a sticky abyss of no return.

As a dog returns to its vomit so is the man who puts his hand to the plough and looks back;

a mere salt encrusted figurine mounted in mid air,
the shrine of a soul who refuses to let the warmonger go.

Such is the nature of mammons games –
The fiendish fashion icon.

If you play often enough it will drive a stake through your heart and own your soul; slit your throat and leave you bleeding.

Disengage from the possessed materialist;
from the “Fuhrer” who promises bread but gives a stone.
Disregard leaders who steal your meal.

Stop the games,
protect the back of your brother;
Join him in the firing line –
be the media spine,
and together you must cry,

“This is my living space,
my country,
My home –

This is,

“My Struggle”.


 BEULAH KLEINVELDT ( writing as Jambiya Kai)
An emotive South African socio-spiritual short story writer, prose poet and songstress.
The Beulah Kleinveldt formula is fairly consistent – driven by raconteurs who challenge unjust systems and find themselves drawn into a web of deceit and abuse, love and loss – promoting hope in adversity. Kleinveldt authentically weaves the tragedy and victory of the human experience into a tapestry of memorable imagery and metaphor.Her works have appeared in*Sir Ricky McGentleman’s, Live Life: The  Daydreamers Journal (Barnes and Noble)      alongside works of British Novelist Gwyneth  Jones; American poet Judith Skillman and Stuart  Dybek; *Best New African Poets Anthology 2017 .*The 2008 Good News London Publishers Contest    earned her The UK Overall Winner’s Award for her    poem When Freedom Reigned (Ode to Africa).JAMBIYA has written countless musical dramas for the Department of Cultural Affairs and Sport and currently working on a debut collection of short stories and prose poetry – a colorful cocktail of fiction and non-fiction. Beulah Kleinveldt is the founder and CEO of The Campio Burns Group; a burns support and wellness organisation; she is a revolutionary activist – standing against abuse and injustice.  She serves as Creative Arts Content writer, mentor, coach and playwright for the Department of Cultural affairs and Sport (MOD Program – Cape Town) – mentoring Youth at Risk and coaching the coach.





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Sudan the great has fallen
A million salty tears cannot fill the Nile
The land of giants has dwarfed into shadowy ghosts
Red eyes cannot light the cooking stones
Offended spirits roam the land in search of their former selves
Chaos reign, the scorching sun cooks animal carcasses
The calves have died with milk on the teats
Vultures long dead are not invited to the feast
The dead cannot bury the dead
Lord of tears, rescue me.

Death has camped in Sudan
The source of the River Nile has been defiled into a desert
The wicked Janjaweed beat death drums
The cobweb of impunity weaves corruption, greed, war
Foreign arms grind machinery of destruction
Endless power hunger games rip open wombs of pregnant mothers
Isn’t Killer games, the enemy’s gain?
I cry but my tears have no gain
Not until Sudan rises again.
I sob.

Sudan’s jails are filthy layers of stifled innocent souls
Charged with imaginary crimes from the head of a deranged government
A decayed tooth whose loose system leaves toothless smelly mouths, caves
Till when, Mama? Till when?
Peace talks are the rugs on which berserk leaders wipe their bloody feet
Caked soles of feet in Bloody shoes soaked in rivers of blood
Bashir the wicked jigger has fed on the flesh of his people for eons
His fleecy naughty bedbug toy guns flash a weeping trail of destruction
Not even the highest court in the world can hold him
The ICC, the leaders’ kalongolongo children’s game
I cry.

Sudan’s crisis is the cry of many rivers
Sudan’s Sickler, harvests death like a bottomless pit
Sudan has become an open grave
Loose shooting canon, fire spitting snakes
Life mocker, get away from me
The Buzz of a million houseflies is your favourite song
What day of the week, were you born?
You are a shame to the universe
Your brother’s death does not stop your sleeping pangs
Your children, what? Child soldiers.
The leaders of Sudan have no brothers or sisters
Only enemies.
I cry.

Sudan’s poverty is the joy of the colonizer
The master reigns supreme
Our leaders have opened the granary to strangers
Their green colored forest clothes the death signature
Sudan’s helpless tears only dry up the barren soil.
Sudan’s fake eyelashes have fallen
Adults cry like children and there are no children to cry
Darfur exposes the raw jaundiced eye of horror and injustice

Africa, North, South, East, West
Lamentations. Lamentations. Lamentations.
Sudan crisis is the cry of rivers of blood and tears
Rivers that flow in red blood and mixes with rich oil
Discolored by wars of greed, gold and oil

Sudan crisis is the cry of deserts
Turned into quarries of hidden guns
Sparkling in deadly smiles
As government eats her children
Sudan crisis, the naked cry of the earth
Earth filled with limbless bodies, ashes
Earth cannot recognize her own and feeds them to the worms
The justice train is slow no matter how fully you oil it
Women of Sudan arise
Save your children from these monsters who occupy state houses
Hold your wombs and breasts, invoke the power within
The children you suckled and nurtured have turned against you
The children have slipped from the nest and become monsters

You cannot give up
You must not give up
Mothers of Sudan, arise and claim your space
You have suffered enough
The senseless leaders have declared Sudan an orphan
Daughters of Sudan arise and fight back
The battle is yours, my sisters
Our hopes lie in you
Poetry Nation, Arise
You are the last weapon left standing
To rescue our sister Nation
I cry.



The Editor in Chief at Tujipange Africa Media, a diaspora based Magazine in United States of America. A Consul at Large at /POETS OF THE WORLD .A motivational speaker. Writers Consultant with her amazing projects, Walks and Talks and Tips for Writers Show . An International investigative journalist, poet, vocalist, performing and visual artist. She is author of a Memoir, “God’s Child on The Run.” .Published in several anthologies including Our Secret Lives, Holding the Center and other journals of International acclaim. Omwa is a former Bureau Chief, The Standard Group and has published over 4000 articles in her journalism career spanning 20 years. Her passion for standing up to power and corrupt leaders in the media circles is unmatched. Her experience in journalism spans from more than two decades. She stands firm against the abuse of power, corruption and mass killings .she is an advocate of true journalism. She comes aboard with her vast understanding of global humanity issues, journalistic experiences and women rights knowledge. She holds a postgraduate diploma in journalism and mass communication and a BA degree from the University of Nairobi.






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Poetry has given me a voice, removed me from the shadows, a voice beyond my speech, the ability to talk without opening my mouth but making my presence felt, using my fingerprint through ink and words to show that I am here, I was here
Poetry has given me a sense of self, my words are mine and they are valid no matter what the critical eye says, it is my view conveyed in ink splashed by me in my true colors, nothing more nothing less open to whatever interpretation, my part done, words released to the universe to be absorbed
Poetry has given me influence, influence in the reader, to taste and savor my the words, spiced with the different colors of ink, a reflection of what was yesterday, what is today and what could be tomorrow.
Poetry has given me a new family, a family of wordsmiths, new friends, no questions asked, only unconditional acceptance of who I am and want to be, critiquing is always positive for growth
Poetry has given me a space, a safe space to be, a space where I matter, my voice matters, a place in the universe
A place of learning
A place of openness
A place of refuge
A place of freedom
A place of love
A place of giving
A place of healing
A place of receiving
A place of reflecting
A place of beauty
A place of discovery
A place of revolution
A place of new beginnings
That is what poetry does


BEATRICE  OTHIENO -AHERE is a kindred soul to words and the feelings they evoke. Her use of poetic expression is part of her creative nature and inquiry to explore the different perspectives of life. Her interests range from women and girls rights at varied levels, introspective articulation of the social, political and economic environments we live in as a global community as well as the varied definitions of love and friendship that bind us together as humanity. Her passion is to contribute towards peaceful coexistence and a just world where none lacks and all are accepted in their diverse forms, faces and thoughts, hence the reflective nature of her poetic discourse






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When being a “Woman” became not only a matter of biology but culture,

She was pushed and shoved into the margins

Yet she excelled using the strength of her weakness and the rigidity of her fragility

To be a mother to the world and even villains scurried to get a taste of her nectar

With gait and grace, she carried the burden of motherhood even though it took a toll on her body


When being a ‘Woman’ was just a tag of servitude,

She had a contract to be seen and not heard

To give her all and not receive a thing in return

To carry the lashes of tongues of hate without flinching

To be just a being for the good of others

She was just a trophy for her lord and master

She lived their expectation against her aspirations


They made her into an ornament even though her soul yelled against their interpretation of her humanity

Treated like a child of a lesser god even though they knew she was a goddess

she was possessed and subjugated like a satchel

Though they knew that they existed only because of her being a woman


Today, ‘Woman’ is a being, the most beautiful of all creation

And the hallmark of procreation

Her bit of the gender pie is her glory, as a role model

As a daughter, sister, wife, mother and development partner

As the very essence of society



 SAMUELLA J. CONTEH is from Sierra Leone, West Africa. CONTEH is a writer, poet, dramatist and motivational speaker. She is a member of the Sierra Leone Writers Forum and Member of Board of PEN-SL.  President of the International African Writers Association in Sierra Leone.Samuella’s poems and short stories have been featured in several national and international anthologies. She has also received many awards including the Medal of Ambassador de Literature (ADL), Award of World Poetic Star, Award of Mahatma Medal, and most recently, the Order Of Shakespeare (OOS).




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For all the terrible results of every tragic crash
All the lives that were swept, lost and there was no way
Left to transform the news to a false trash
Such tragedies shouldn’t have happened any day
There are no words to make pain easier.

We didn’t know that their lives would end this way
All those we lost, may they rest in peace
These devastating incidents had taken our breathes away
Heartbreaking realities we struggled to grasp
May all the bereaved find comfort and solace.

But this was the day God fixed
We shall not question His plans and deeds
But we shall remember this day of your glorious exit
You have lived your life and we won’t forget the story
Till we meet in the light of His Heavenly eternity.

AWADIFO OLGA KILI is an Author,Law Student, Poetess and Human Rights Activist from Uganda. She is the Author of the book Victorious Tales which is human rights based and has written so many poems that have featured in International Journals and Anthologies.




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A weapon-like wonderment

skirmishes inside the little girl’s mind

while she is playing unpredictably

with her curiosity’s congestion


She is unwilling

to leave her musical thoughts alone

merely to dance her childhood away

with this unknown world’s bewilderment


She is unaware

of her innocence which seems to simulate

a fantasy alien from planet Pluto.


They let her keep on searching a dim speck of light

when her wishes turn into a dream-telescope

that can never be used for sighting a peaceful earth..

MUNIA KHAN  was born on a spring night of 15th March in the year 1981. Most of her works are poems of different genres, short stories and articles.She is the author of four poetry collections : ‘Beyond The Vernal Mind’ (USA, September 6th, 2012), ‘To Evince The Blue’ (USA, October 29th, 2014),and ‘Versified’ (Tel Aviv, Israel, October 25th, 2016), ‘Fireclay’ (USA, April, 2020) and also her ever first inspirational book is called ‘Attainable’ ( USA, June 2nd, 2020)Her works have been translated into various languages: Japanese, Romanian, Urdu, Italian, Dutch, Croatian, Spanish, Portuguese, Russian, Albanian, Finnish, Greek, Indonesian, Turkish, Hindi, Arabic, Bengali and in Irish language. Her poetry has been published in several anthologies, literary journals, magazines and in newspapers. Her words have been inscribed on a series of commemorative plaques in Ireland including one standing in the grounds of Holy Trinity Church at Holy Trinity Heritage Centre at Carlingford, Ireland as a tribute to those lost in the collision of the SS Connemara and the SS Retriever in 1916. Her quote has also been inscribed on a memorial plaque( in Tribute to the Hannah shipwreck victims in 1849) beside Newry Canal one hundred metres from the town centre in Newry, Ireland.






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Lift the latch and

you will find cracks

in the door scarred

traces of hot tempered


sad sorrowful echoes of

screams slaps and strikes

in the tender dwellings of

famished femininity-


whose chest is crammed

with refrains of ugly curses

profane, drafted with hatred


beauty’s blend for care

created for eternal company

stays abused spared not


who will cut the strings

of human bondage

lacerant tortured

suffering silent cry!

What was ancient

ignorant and abolished

made eloquent and sacred


Open the door and you will find

famished femininity current

in countless fetters.

slowly visibly tabescent-





Born in Srinagar (Indian occupied Kashmir) in 1949. My family opted for and migrated to Pakistan after the (1947)Partition of India. Educated in St Anne’s Presentation Convent Rawalpindi.Graduated with Distinction in English Lang. & Literature in 1968 from the Punjab University. Won the All Round Best Student Cup.1968.
Obtained a Masters Degree in English Literature/American Studies  Punjab University   P.G. Diploma in TEFL from Allama Iqbal Open University Islamabad and a CPE from Cambridge University UK (LSE British Council)1991Developing Educators in Pakistan Training Course sponsored by IFC & Bradford University 1999.Bronze Medal  Poet of Merit Award by International Society of Poets &  USA 2000 7 Times Winner  NANOWRIMO, (National Novel Writing Month)
Adventure Novel ‘ The Adventures of the Multi Colored Lead People’ in the printing process.
EducatorWriter since 1990 Editor College Magazine
Creative Writer English at Channel 7 Pvt Ltd Islamabad.National Education Award Winner 1998 for Research & Publications.









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our stories hide


between couch cushions and

in empty medicine vials.


the let loose moments

of garbled wrappers and stenched bottles

drizzled over our bedside table

like syrup on empty caloried



we keep eating them.

that first bit so sweet.

we call the end

the constant middle


between the purge-less binge

and death.


HOKIS  is Founder and Senior Editor of Headline.  She believes in supporting a range of voices at various stages of their craft for this is the most impactful design of grassroots revolutions. She envisions Headline as a platform that exemplifies the beliefs that all poetry is political and reflection is essential to effectively reshape conversations and culture – for writers and readers alike.Beyond the boundless bounds of Headline, Hokis assists the local-to-her Moth-inspired storytelling project, regularly contributes to Reclamation Magazine and is a 2020 hall of fame-r with Woman Words Literary Press.  Visit her personal workspace for links to published pieces and read in-progress drafts.









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Witless day, witless night,
the lies on the screen.
And nobody turns out bad
in the plundered country.

We live day to day, for a moment,
from bill to deferment.
The thief is only great,
he gains a new point.

We are silent
and we howl
but without a voice.

They wash every word.
Before it reaches us,
we are turned into foliage.
Безумен ден, безумна нощ,
лъжите от екрана.
И никой не излиза лош
в държавата обрана.

Живеем ден за ден, за миг,
от сметка до отсрочка.
Крадецът само е велик,
печели нова точка.

Мълчим и вием,
но без глас,
промиват всяка дума.

Преди да стигне



MIROSLAVA PANAYOTOVA graduated from Plovdiv University, specialized in Bulgarian philology. She has have published poems, stories, tales, aphorisms, essays, criticisms, translations, articles and interviews in periodical and collections. Panayotovas poetry booksincludes: Nuances, 1994, God of the senses, 2005, Whisper of leaves, 2017, Green feeling, 2018; two books with stories: An end, and then a beginning, 2017, The path of love, 2018; two eBooks: Laws of communicatons /aphorisms/, 2018, Old things /poetry/, 2018. She an ardent a member of the Union of the Independent Bulgarian Writers and a member of the International Association of Independent Writers “Sodrujestvo”.





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That frequent outraged feelin’

Brought about by the righteous pause

Cause a sudden sharp call to run

To the wind

And find some comfort under the twinkling starlight

And play that discontented tune

Beat the drums to a different tune

And cause that awkward feelin’

With that patronizing pace

Beats of broken tones and brash runs

Wisper in the scornful wind

Empty words and mocking starlight

Refrains from the caustic starlight

Clamoring and beating that bantering tune

Seeping out the flippant feelin’s

Steadfast face-to-face with impasse

Bringing surmounting angst and will to run

Compounding problems ignored gently wind

The hopes of the indignant winds

Search for the insolent starlight

And leaves that better tone

Leaving contemptuous feelings

And offering that familiar condescending pause

Leave the impoverished to surely run

In that frequent false shameful run

Leaving in its wake vibrant winds

Stealing whimsical starlight

With their belligerent tunes

Pretending to pass a fanciful feelin’

To the winds and emptiness pass

And that passive pause

With the symbolic ironic run

Pushing patronizing winds

Beneath the superficial starlight

Playing those teasing tunes

Offering that artificial feelin’

Hunting hopeful feelings from that hostile impasse?

Go where the rivers run and find that warm wind

Under a canopy of starlight and twinkling tune.



 Creative Humanist, Literary Specialist, Copy Specialist, Creative Arts Mentor and a Peace Activist.It is her hope that freedoms of speech encompass the entire globe.Her work has been published on and off the internet, in anthologies and interactive platforms.She is currently serving as Skills Development Consultant for the 2019 BRAVE VOICES POETRY JOURNAL( a Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Project ), where she developed  a POETRY Writing Skills Handbook  for young and rising poets in Africa and Abroad.Tracy Yvonne Breazile has  a B.A. in Language and Literature with an emphasis in Professional Writing, from COLUMBUS STATE (CSU, a member of the University System of Georgia, USA.) and  currently working on her first novel.



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Moon drops, snowdrops, raindrops tenderly eavesdrop on my teardrops. Broken heart and my teardrops will not thwart your departing since fate establishes a timeframe of your natural life.
Healthcare and prayers powerless to alleviate your destiny; therefore, my teardrops stream in the dark.
You are beyond holding me during the night and protecting me from all the fright. Smooches, embraces, and the delight of passion is a passing memory. My teardrops tumble down every day.
Where have you gone my robust and handsome man? It was not lust that kept us in sync, but the unique coherence of our connection. The disconnect has arrived and my teardrops stream during the night.
Inhale and exhale one more time for the reason the rhythm of your breath is almost gone. Eavesdrop on my heart and the beats are in cadence with my teardrops.

Joyful Night (Nov 2019)


MELISSA BEGLEY is from the South in the USA, a Creative Humanist, Reflections Writer and Prose Poet.   A retired Health Care Professional with a profession that span for decades. She served as extensively as a Patient Advocate.  A Prolific Trainer of Patient Centered and Patient Focused Ethics. Her Writings, Reflections and Ideas are published   in several journals, blogs and spaces around the globe. Melissa Begley is the inaugural Fundraising Coordinator of the 2020 WOMAWORDS LITERARY PRESS main Project, #DAUGHTERS OF THE EARTH PROJECT.



TABASSUM TAHMINA SHAGUFTA HUSSEIN * appointed  to the HALL OF FAME  as the 2020 IHRAF FELLOW , International Human Rights Art Festival is a solid partner of  *WOMAWORDS LITERARY PRESS*

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They are under the ground.

No grave, no funeral.

After the scavenger’s feast,

Finally, the skeletons are under the ground.

They were torched alive,

Machine guns,

Bullets piercing their bodies,

Mutilated, butchered, decapitated,


Politicians call it “Genocide”.

We leave it to our leaders,

They raise the issue in the International community,


The rest is criticism goes on.

They file cases in The International Court of Justice.

Here we rally, make human chains,

We debate in the Talk shows,

Seminars and workshops.

All in vain.

Where is Justice?

Goddess Athena hides her face in shame.

Blind Lady of Justice is blind to see the massacre.

Where Noble laureate of Peace,

Remains calm.

Defends genocide with lies,

In the International Court of Justice.

Where the voice less’s yearning,

Seems to be lost in the air.

Justice for who?

Who are they?

They are Rohingyas.

Stateless, helpless and voiceless!


Maybe they are the children of a lesser God.


TABASSUM TAHMINA SHAGUFTA HUSSEIN as aesthete from Dhaka, Bangladesh is an MA in British and American Literature. She was a faculty in three leading private universities in Bangladesh. She was the Head of training in HR Division in the corporate sector. She is also an HRMC and MPHRM holder. Now, she is a freelance writer. She is a regular columnist of Different Truths Publications, India. Her columns deal with humanitarian to diverse issues. Her poems have appeared in many literary magazines notably, Our Poetry Archive Spiritual Poetry Beyond Borders Anthology 2018, Our Poetry Archive Spirit of Nature Anthology 2019, A Tribute to Gabriel Okara IMOMOTIMI Anthology 2019, Turnpike Magazine, IHRAF publishes. She writes poems about human rights, spiritual, love, myths, natural, abstract and experimental poetry. She likes to write in prose style and prefers soliloquy and dramatic monologue style. She is also a member of the Governing Body of her hometown college founded by her late father, who is her inspiration. Travelling, recitation and making DIY jewellery is her past time. She seeks beauty from the blade of grass to the twinkling stars. Aestheticism and humanism are the essences of her existence.






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she’s present

returned to bite through the umbilical of tradition,
to flick her tongue
and cut loose the animus-god of our parents,
like a panther she roams the earth, she is eve wild in the night,
freeing minds from hard shells
and hearts from the confines of their cages,
she’s entwined in the woodlands of our psyches
and offers her silken locks to the sacred forests of our souls ~
naked but for her righteousness,
she stands in primal light,
in the untrammeled river of dreams
the yin to balance yang
the cup of peace to uncross the swords of war ~
through the eons she’s been waiting for her time
her quiet numinosity hiding in the phenomenal world,
in the cyclical renewal of mother earth,
whispering to us in the silver intuition of grandmother moon
watching us as the loving vigilance of a warming sun ~
she, omen of peace birthed out of the dark,
even as tradition tries to block her return,
her power leaps from the cleavage of time


JAMIE DEDES: A homebound writer, poet, and former columnist, her poetry has been featured widely. She runs The Poet by Day (, an info hub focusing on initiatives for peace, sustainability and social justice as well as she-poets, minority poets, and poets just finding their voices in maturity. She is also the editor of The BeZine (, a publication of The Bardo Group/Beguines, a virtual arts collective she founded.



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