Daily Observer International Poetry Festival 2019
"When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses."
Not a poet but it was none other than the late American President John F Kennedy to have made the above statement on his understanding of poetry. However, poetry goes beyond richness coupled with its cleansing properties. Poetry stitches hearts and minds beyond borders while gathering poets under a single umbrella. That umbrella is today's literature page under the banner of Daily Observer International Poetry Festival 2019.
Since the protagonist of this festival has prevented me from revealing his identity, so I won't go into details. But similar to an American president making an unusual remark on poetry, a poet too has the incredible strength to rule over continents and countries to rule over, not with a public but a poetic mandate. That said - I am not humbled but grateful to Almighty to have met that protagonist, otherwise it wouldn't have been possible to organise such an inconceivable feat.
Poets from twelve countries across the globe have participated in today's Daily Observer International Poetry Festival, 2019. The countries are - Azerbaijan, Egypt, Ireland, Mexico, Montenegro, Jordan, USA, Luxembourg, Spain, Romania, India and Bangladesh.
Wait, a dozen is not all; a couple of Bangladeshi poets have also added extra value to today's page turning it into a practical poetry bonanza. Unending gratitude to all you poets for making this page a reality.
Last of all, poetry is, above all, an approach to the truth of feelings - irrespective of distance and remoteness - feelings too can stitch a poetic bond against all barriers. Much in tuned with the words of JFK, the dozen plus poets from numerable countries have penned their feelings to clean a world that continue to get corrupt by the lust for power. Also experience the richness and diversity of existence that the poets have created in today's festival.
What an outstanding collective effort, what an extraordinary poetic event taking place in today's Bangladesh. And this mere organiser is a part of it. A poetic-bon-voyage to all my poets and readers. -Shahrair Feroze
Ismayilova Mesme Aliyullaqizi (Azerbaijan)
Man like a book
Which reads endlessly
On this book, grief and sorrow,
happiness settled there
But this endless book
Has a person� close friend.
Always is near�
responding to every noise
giving her hope�
This is the endless sea.
joy and sadness to endless
wavesat anytime �. scattering grief
with capricious waves
makes yourself loved
with a blue, white wave ...
sometimes calm sea ....
sometimes loses direction
Suddenly changing ...
When I'm tired of grief
staying with the sea
I tell him everything ...
waiting for answer from him
The sea is calm, silently
like .....looking at me for a minute
feeling my grief�.
drops of a wave fall�. like a tear
like a spray of water on my face
as if .... I sleep....
The sea woke me up ...
Looking at my eyes,
The sea stopped silently for a minute
I look at the endless sea ...
As if ....the sea is telling me:
Sadness, like me, is endless...
�.. the joy is endless too ..
But life is too short...
Try ....this short life ...
You could live happily ..
The poet is from Azerbaijan and works as a teacher at Azerbaijan State Pedagogical University
Rubab Abdullah ( Bangladesh)
So much luminosity,So much hilarity in nature,
The air nutty and swirling,
While trees doll up in new leaves,
Everywhere boisterous wild birds
Singing, tweetingdawn and twilight;
And flowers - lively and aromatic.
Would you cast a spell on my love for nature?
Let us not scorn our distinctiveness,
I overlook the attention you shower on others,
I am beholden to the Spring for a choice for me.
The poet is an expat Bangladeshi writes from Ohio, USA
O Beloved one
By Hana Shishiny ( Egypt)
Between a wave and another
between the rain and it's fragrance
You planted me, a poem, a quivering flower
exposed to birds � bees and a romance
Dwelling in your magical in your
magical home ..poetry
doorless, no ceiling, no walls
Rainbow colors fill this sanctuary
tide of love, caressing heart and soul �.
O beloved, how could you, my dreams fulfill
withendless desire, create forever moon
Enlighten my darkness with passionate skill
have me lost between reality and love bird's croon�
Hana Shishiny is an Egyptian poet based in Cairo
One Speck Of Blue
Margaret O'Driscoll (Ireland)
One speck of blue
Between dark drifting clouds
A signal of hope appears
One word of reassurance
When all seems so bleak
Helps to banish our fears
It's hard to see brightness
When darkness prevails
Hard to see light in the sky
Have trust, keep believing
That the sun will break through
As all the clouds drift on by
Margaret O'Driscoll is an Irish poet who has been published internationally in many anthologies, journals and ezines.
The Bedouin's Song
Nizar Sartawi ( Jordan)
i'm just a bedouin:
i live in a tent -
cozy an' fair
its fabric woven
from rough goat-hair -
a shady cover
in the summer
a rain-proof shelter
in the winter
a single garment - a long black robe
that I call a thobe
a pair of worn-out sandals
a coffee kit
and other little things
i put in a sack
that may not be fit
for countrysiders' appetites
all this infinite expanse
of deep beige sands
my sole companion:
a faithful camel
who carries me
and all my stuff
and together we cross the endless desert
and when i sing
some cameleer song
he gets so light
out of delight
and acts as if to fly
toward the sky
Nizar Sartawi is a Palestinian poet and translator , he is based at Amman, Jordan
JOSEP JUAREZ (Mexico)
I was a corpse
and sitting I was
when you appeared
with your long hair
your white robe
and the torch in your hand
you lit my eyes
And I could see
I could see you
I fall in love with you
of your way of whispering my feelings
of your way of walking
about me barefoot
you kissed my wounds
and my rotten skin
you pronounced my name
and you gave me life
the life of the fire of your torch
the life of the mountain fire
and for a moment
I felt part of the fire
but I'm not fire
I am from the land
of the earth that covers me today
that today hugs me
who today keeps my body with misgiving
from where from time to time
I still pronounce your verses
Josep Juarez is a Mexican poet his poems have been translated into French, German, Serbian, Arabic, Catalan, Italian and winner of Naji naama Award 2018 (India)
Corina Junghiatu (Romania)
absolute at sunset
red carnation enlivening
of the stardust,
like crystal drops
on the cobalt sky.
Incandescent apple face,
baking in the ovens
of paradise foam
of the silk cloud
feeding the hunger for life
from the womb of the universe.
Sun, blooming coral,
in love with the moon,
in a wedding ring.
Corina Junghiatu is Director of the literature and art platform, World Literary Union and Editor of the Romanian Speech magazine
How come you have me...
Slavka Bozovic (Montenegro)
How come you have me
I would like to know
Since I've been in you
How come I'm in your dreams
How come my shadow
Roams under your eyelids
How come the letters of my name
In the lapel of your heart
How come my whispers
Echo through your chest
How come my touch
Comes through your lips
How come my tears
In your black eyes
How come my sadness
In your sleepless nights
How come my tenderness
In your whistful rhymes
How come my gaze
Deep in your eyes
Am I the cause of your suffering
Since I've been in you
Answers I want to know
How come you have me...
Slavka Bozovic is a poet based at Nik�i? Montenegro
JOSÉ LUIS RUBIO (Spain)
What flag is yours?
Mine is not red, not green, not white,
neither blue, nor purple, nor yellow.
My flag has the color of freedom,
of equality, of truth, of love.
My flag does not fly on any mast.
I wear it under my skin and nobody sees it.
It is a flag that does not carry behind
no army because it does not need weapons
to defend its fundamental principles.
It's a flag that many betray
because they do not know how to love, because they flee from the truth,
because they do not feel the same, because they do not understand freedom.
José https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jos%C3%A9Luis Rubio is a poet from Spain
Munzur -i-Muqshed (Bangladesh)
Like torrents in a desert after a long draught
Like whirlwinds that circles around the naught broken leaves
Like the hues that rubbles my core, the whispers of bacon
And meat that rubs the skin , ornate of my long forgotten chore
Like the seal of witches in black and white and jerks in dark
Parallelogram of rare sepia sliding melodies ,
Like the hike we took after misplaced flowers and kisses and
Chat by the fireplace in a lonesome wood,
By the three daredevil dwarfs, nude
Agonies in latent, ribbed staccato
Ecstasies in torment, edged tremolo
Lewd Seasons in lukewarm cello
Smell of delirium in striped avocado
Guided me, gripped me
at late last night
Through the passage of rhyme,
Blocks of time
Shuffle of lime
Corridors of crime
Through the hymn of chocolate bitter
And magic, noir et blanche,
To thy brutal eyes.
The poet is a civil servant
Imran Rahman ( Bangladesh)
To some you are a wonderful book
to some you are a battle ground
which writer fights with the pen
with wisdom as his shield
and fighter writes with the sword
where in broad day-light
the paper is an open field.
Imran Rahman is a Bangladeshi poet
CALCUTTA ...clasp my hand
Asoke Kumar Mitra (India)
Calcutta, ever since my youth-
Clasping you in my arms
Calcutta, come hold my hands
Across Chowringhee's zebra
I would take you to the yonder bank
Cobblestone of New Market
Your sandal strappings tore in purposeless pain and grief
Yet the shadows of your knees can stretch till it reached the stars
Calcutta you are the green on the asphalt roads
You are war and peace of the tormented soul
Calcutta, come clasp my hand.
Hold me in an embrace
I would walk along to death
You are the companion of lonesome love...
My heart you stole
The poet is a retired journalist from India. Poetry, paintings and photography are his passions
To "The Mothers in The Middle East"
Sanaz Davood Zadeh Far (Luxembourg)
War with no mask steals your little child in front of you and in broad light
It steals the dream with a scarf full of a rainbow.
A little girl rides a bicycle and carries a doll
A round stops her,
collars her neck, m her smile,
Leaves flowers in her dress and some meat.
Oh her mother
You become a moving hole full of dead dreams.
The dirt surrounds you and doesn't cover you.
Sanaz Davood Zadeh Far is an Iranian poet living in Luxembourg
Lisa Fosmo (USA)
I kindle it there,
In my heart's womb.
I hold it like a world,
In my fingers cradle.
Warm as flesh.
I let it escape like fragrance on steam.
A promise not to be borrowed
Lay down my sword.
I accept the invitation
Of harbingers to grief and joy.
I welcome myself at the door
With open arms,
And still I stumble.
I gather up on storm clouds
That crumble like burnt edges
Falling at the touch.
The smell visceral and earthy
Melts on the tongue like snow.
Like the ice cream of my youth,
Where the colors all run the same.
Like pretty bloodied wounded things.
Tethered to my heart's cord.
That rise like waves of breathe on
Blood crashing my heart's cave.
Lisa Fosmo is an American poet