UKRAINE SPECIAL DISPATCH
SMALL BLAZE IN A ROARING FIRE
by AMALOU OUASSOU (Morocco)
We think it was a lit cigarette
flicked off the wrist of a driver, racing past
THE SINGING LARK
by JENSEN LEE (United States)
Once under the light of dawn
there sat a singing lark.
TO EVERYONE (AND THE FUTURE MOST LIKELY)
by RYDER KEREOPA (Australia)
You think this poem will preserve the breeze,
preserve the dark and oaky trees
by SOVEREIGN (United States)
Quiet settles like a thousand years of grief, and
it spills over in the wake of a firework's shout
THREE WAYS OF SAYING THE SUN IS SETTING
by JAYDA BRAIN (Australia)
Pollen stuck to his thighs, the man feels
something unnamable growing in his chest
PERENNIAL SWEET ALYSSUM
by JONATHAN CHARLES STEPHENS (United States)
Ingrain yourself in a wild honey: flail a standing ovation with petaled hands
ANNOTATIONS ON 《静夜思》
by LINDA KONG (United States)
moonlight kisses the clouds. It rings, the moonlight, like church bells striking.
CURIOSITY KILLED THE DREAMER
by MARLEY SHEPHERD (United States)
"What's with the buckets?" you ask. "They're carrying something important."
by SASINDIE SUBASINGHE (Sri Lanka)
It began at the beginning in the middle of things; at the center of a galaxy
BREAKING THE SILENCE
by BRITNEY PHAM (Australia)
The silence can be eerie
Dark, damp and cold
by MAI MCGAW (United States)
On a frosty October morning, I walk to a field
And lie flat on my back in the dewy grass.
by SAMANTHA WAGNER (United States)
I believe in
A Place for every Person to
by ROSIE JONES (United Kingdom)
A poem is when a scattering of swallows suddenly form a perfect v.
A poem is the angle which makes dew on a rose petal look like diamonds.
WOOD AND WATER
by ENLING LIAO (Australia)
Late afternoon. I never knew a whisper, soft and sweet, could sing
BECAUSE YOU'RE WORTH IT
by KIANA JACKSON (Australia)
You're deplorable, horrible, despicable, ignorable. You reiterate, evaluate, desiccate . . .
THE FISHER QUEEN
by DANIEL SHARPE (Northern Ireland)
Sweet Erin you lay far from me,
In soils toiled by blight and blood.
by MAY ZHENG (United States)
Air sticks to my skin,
like honey. mosquitos circle my ankles and wrists
SMALL FAREWELL IN THE HISTORY OF SUMMERS
by TING LIN (China)
I look at you for decades and your words
melt in this subtropical heat.
by AFRAH SHEKH (India)
the first missile tears through the skin;
skinning the embers of a quenched country
RETURN TO MY TREES
by ELEANOR LEWIS (Wales)
i have come back
to the village i swore i would never see again
by CAROLINE DINH (United States)
Sometimes I like to collapse infinity
into a single point in time I label "now."
by ARIELLE LINN (Myanmar)
In the thousand faceless poems I've read
the moon has never been named a "him."
by KATE GARDNER (United States)
And the sea has many teeth, far more than I. But if we are one
then I have all the same teeth as the sea, then it has the same teeth as I.
Thirty-two nights without seeing a start
Bright, shining, good luck, good luck for me.
WALTZ ANOTHER NIGHT AWAY
by AIKA ADAMSON (United States)
The night comes with a special kind of softness,
where the music swells.
A MEXICAN TWIN / GEMELO MEXICANO
by ASHTON PERFECTO (United States)
I am an American boy
with a Mexican twin.
by AMALIA COSTA (United Kingdom)
We come in droves, frothing at the mouth and baying for blood.
Our enemy invisible, stretched across the world like the taut skin of a drum.
by HANNAH LING (Malaysia)
I believe in the power of words to come flying:
swans whooping as they pass
STARS AND CEREAL
by ANNA O'CONNOR (Ireland)
I do not see the stars from where I stand
but I know they are there.
7 BILLION PEOPLE
by LIORA SCOP (South Africa)
They say 7 billion people stayed home today
2.2 billion children stayed out of school
by LYAT MELESE (United States)
Change is unexpected.
Like the day I was told we were moving to America.
MY PARENTS CONSIDER WHAT THEY'LL DO WITH THEIR REMAINS
by OTTAVIA PALUCH (Canada)
But not as quickly as water.
WHEN NOBODY'S LOOKING
by MARIANA SANTIBANEZ (Mexico)
As we turn into ghost towns and ghost stories,
I memorize the steps, the corners, the edges.
HIMALAYAS IN JALANDHAR
by NEERAJA KUMAR (India)
I never imagined they could be so close.
DON'T YOU SWAT AT A FLY
by ARIA MALLARE (United States)
Don't you swat at a fly.
Don't you mindlessly shoot that harmless creature to the ground.
YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FROM ALABAMA
by LEE GAINES (United States)
you have learned there is both good and bad about where you live.
you have learned the stubbornest people on the planet are Southern.
RED AND GOLD
by VIVIAN ZHI (Canada)
My words can be a sense of comfort, a feeling of being understood, a thought, an awakening.
by YASMINE BOLDEN (United States)
You have never known those shores or those
people or those words that sound like a memory
MATHEMATICS: TRY AND CALCULATE ME
by NAZEEFA AHMED (Canada)
Mathematics: prove me
with your trig identities
MY WORDS ARE NOT MINE ALONE
by AKSHITHA UPADYAYULA (India)
But if I visit Chinatown and look hard enough,
I can see the traces of our history left behind.
DON'T TRY TO BE BLACK ATLAS
by CARISSA CEASOR (United States)
Shirk your sense of responsibility.
Leave your guilt at the door of progress.
MEN WAITING FOR A TRAIN
by LOIS BELOVED (Australia)
At first they stand, orphaned, like a line of birds,
first on one foot, then the other, in unison.
by ADDISON RAHMLOW (United States)
I wasn't alive in '93, when cryptosporidium poured
through the water like liquid lava
LEMONS AND JUSTICE
by TAZ HANCOCK (Hong Kong)
I believe in justice,
in our voices, in theirs
by IZRAHMAE SUICO (The Philippines)
It is like a curl of smoke,
Crowning the feral embers
by TEREN LEE (Malaysia)
Have moths ever burned like Icarus,
encased in what they love
GREEN IS GREED AND GREED IS POWER
by RUTH PORT (United Kingdom)
Green are the strands of the winner's laurel;
green is the step of his podium as he stares over the crowd
MEMORIES THAT NEVER HAPPENED
by ARI (United States)
In the jungles of Aklan stands a statue of a man I've never met.
Stands a monument to a face I've never seen.
ODE TO A CURTAIN
by NURA OROOJI (South Africa)
Waterfalls of cream and white,
with leafy laced foam
PATTER TO PETRICHOR
It begins with patter, like the impatient tap
of painted nails, the rain thrums on the roof
THAT'S WHAT THE TUI SAID
by OLIVIA GOLDSMITH (New Zealand)
"Quark querk arck erk,"
That's what the tui said.
by LAUREN TEH (United Arab Emirates)
Soft sliding susurrations, light lift of page,
A sigh, a huff, a breath, murmurs in the murky quiet
AMONG THE MEADOWS
by ROSIE JONES (Wales)
the cherry blossom clouds
by AALIYAH JALEEL (Canada)
That sun-kissed evening in 1914
POCKETS OF CITY
by TIFFANY LEONG (United States)
I knew Chinatown best on Saturdays,
the November kind
IMMIGRANT GOES BACK
Why does the sky appear black from the airplane
even though its sweltering noon on the ground?
by CHRIS LIM (The Philippines)
Jeepney Smoke seeps through the iron rail
to keep him bloodshot. He burrows in the neck
4AM BRITISH SUMMER TIME
by BETHANY ADDO-SMITH (United Kingdom)
I drink the elderflower air,
poured by the 4am sky
by LILY WANG (United States)
for two cents, the man
answering will reach into the ocean