ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - Each individual poem is copyrighted - Tous droits réservés


TUTTI I DIRITTI RISERVATI. Il copyright di ogni poesia appartiene ad ogni singolo autore


The poems are published in order of arrival

Poesie pubblicate in ordine di arrivo

Les poèmes sont publiés par ordre d'arrivée

Mariela Cordero, Venezuela

Mariela Cordero: The Angel and The Lights (Collage 2022)

Astros terrenales.


Las luces de la ciudad 

me cubren como un manto incorpóreo

como un paisaje incesante hecho de fulgor

envuelven el ritmo intrincado de mis pasos

son testigos de mis trémulos lamentos y goces


con una dulzura insólita

sobre mi soledad 

como astros terrenales

en medio de la noche.


Earthly Stars.


The lights of the city 

cover me like a incorporeal mantle

like an incessant landscape made of radiance

they envelop the intricate rhythm of my footsteps

they are witnesses of my tremulous laments and joys

they shine

with an unusual sweetness

on my solitude 

like earthly stars

in the middle of the night.



Mariela Cordero. Valencia, Venezuela (1985) is a lawyer, poet, writer, translator and visual artist. First Prize II Iberoamerican Poetry Contest Euler Granda, Ecuador (2015)Second Prize of Poetry Internazionale Bilingüe Tracceperlameta Edizioni, Italy (2015


Rhys Hughes, Wales, UK

Streetlamp Astrology





down here on Earth

patterns of stars

that mark our streets

outlining softly

the sleep of nations

the wakefulness

of wandering minds


Urban zodiac

homely horoscopes

streetlamp astrology

lonely bulbs


to the mystic effect

and we who are

born among

new mythical shapes


geometric fate

abstract gates ablaze


On the ground

we gaze up and see


but magnificent

stellar astronomy

scientific and terrific

but in aeroplanes

we look down

onto another sky

a sea of lights


Cities and symbols

creative phase

nights into days

beyond the daze

of helplessness

and arms extended

fears suspended

beautifully blended

we stroll the dusk

shining with eyes

amazed and wise

from glow to halo

electric flambeaux

cognac clouds and

pillows bathed

in moonlight sighs


The city twinkles

waves of heated air

wash the stones

and secret bones

propel their owners

around the corners

into encounters

with the radiance.

The lamps are stars

                                               and we are planets.


Rhys Hughes





Rhys Hughes was born in Wales but has lived in many countries. He began writing from an early age. His first book, Worming the Harpy, was published in 1995 and since that time he has published more than forty books and his work has been translated into ten languages.


Lilita Conrieri, Italy


Stiamo incerti a spiare il mattino

nell’autunno che sbianca di nebbia

la strada.

Nel silenzio precario dell’alba

si consuma l’attesa del giorno

Alla sera la stessa incertezza ritorna

ma il silenzio è diverso

saturato da gesti e parole

Scalza corre la notte

a rubare la luce ubriaca

dei lampioni di strada

Non ci sono più stelle

a guidare il mattino.



We stand uncertain to spy the morning

in the autumn that makes the road

white with fog

In the precarious silence of dawn

the waiting for the day is over.

In the evening the same uncertainty is back

but silence is different,

saturated by gestures and words

Barefoot the night runs

to steal the drunken light

of street lamps.

There are no more stars

to guide the morning.


Lilita Conrieri




 Lilita Conriei (Torino, Italy). Artista, scrittrice e curatrice della villa Il Meleto di Guido Gozzano ad Agliè (Torino). Nata a Torino, ha pubblicato libri di poesie e saggi su Guido Gozzano. Ha partecipato a numerosi premi Letterari fra i quali il Premio Cesare Pavese (secondo posto nel 1987 per la poesia), il Premio Pannunzio (primo posto per la poesia nel 1992 e il Premio Letterario Penna d’Autore (quarto posto per l’edito nel 2007).


Xavier Panades I Blas, Catalunya




La Ciutat de les Llums


Ningú recorda la primera llum,

que reflecteix la profunditat dels cels.

Ningú compta els llums a la nit,

que revelen els ulls dels amants secrets.


Brillen com estels trencats,

evocant conflictes d'una època,

perforant la nit,

destrossant la foscor desperta.


Com un arc de Sant Martí desmuntat,

dibuixen les veritats amagades,

d'immensa riquesa i poder,

de naixements i morts misteriosos.


Com els estels invisibles,

articulen les geometries,

irradien la respiració,

de la impermanència de la tristesa.


El seu poder és inigualable:

simbolitzant desitjos i sants grials,

il·luminant innombrables somiadors,

comptant les possibilitats de l'impossible.


Sota el seu cor brillant,

adornen l'esperança i la diversió,

espurnant l'argent a l'herba,

alimenten les fantasies de la ment.


Parpellegen com ombres aletejants,

com pensaments perforant deliris,

com trossos trencats d'un espill,

com els reflexos nocturns del riu.


Si la teva ànima està exaltada,

si la teva sang bull frenèticament,

si la foscor t'encén les entranyes,

ets a la ciutat de les llums.


City of Lights


Nobody remembers the first light,

which mirrors the depth of skies. 

Nobody counts the lights at night,

which unveil secret lovers eyes.


They shine like broken stars,

evoking conflicts of a time,

piercing through the night,

tearing apart the sleepless dark.


Like a dismantled rainbow,

they draw the hidden truths,

of immense wealth and power,

of mysterious births and deaths.


Like unseen stars,

they articulate the geometries,

they radiate the breathing,

of the impermanence of sadness.


Their power is unrivalled:

symbolising desires and holy grails,

illuminating countless dreamers,

counting possibilities of the impossible.


Underneath their bright heart,

they adorn hope and fun,

they spark the silver on the grass, 

they feed the fantasies of the mind.


They flicker like flutter shadows,

like thoughts perforating delusions,

like broken pieces of a mirror,

like night river reflections.


If your soul is exhilarated ,

if your blood boils frantically,

if the dark ignites your insides. 

you are in the city of lights.



Xavier Panades I Blas





Xavier Panadès i Blas (Catalunya) was born in Barcelona. He is a writer in Catalan, printmaker, musician and performer. He has produced numerous books of poetry and recordings of his music and has exhibited his artworks widely across the UK. He currently lives in Swansea. 


Aleksandra Vujisić, Montenegro



I lost my peace too many times

and yet found it in the most

unusual places;

I never counted my verses

and rhymes,

or tried to catch invisible traces.


And when the night starts

I never escaped,

because I loved it’s darkness,

I could forget just who I am,

and stop looking at my

soul’s starkness.


But then the light captured my heart,

and I saw that it was pretty -

I started walking with love,

hugging the streets of this beautiful city.


Aleksandra Vujisić


Podgorica, Montenegro




Aleksandra Vujisić (Montenegro) is a professor of English language and literature, and a passionate writer of prose and poetry. She has participated in poetry festivals across Europe, and her works have won prizes and acknowledgements both in Montenegro and worldwideIn 2017 she started a literary project in order to promote the importance of reading for children, and starting from May 2021 she is a member of the Association of Montenegrin authors for children.

Maria Lisella, USA

Some Distance Between Us


Going into “the city” from an “outer borough” masked

the short distance in miles that a two-fare zoned trip

to Manhattan would actually be. A mindset that created

a chasm between city dwellers and suburbanites

and the spaces in between that straddled an elevated

subway line urban yet not “the city.” Suburbs meant

houses, lawns, trees, driveways, Saturday chores …

city cousins were free to perch on fire escapes on hot

days and nights, bound down flights of stairs lit

by magical skylights. And that is what we envied most

– the freedom to bound down those stairs,

the independence to head out to the open sky and play

in a city street, to cool in the shade of red brick tenements,

to be drenched by water that barreled out of uncapped

fire hydrants, the stuff of legend, they first rose out of

the pavements in 1801 replacing “bucket brigades.”

When a heat wave rolled over the city like lava in 1896,

a Roosevelt ordered uncapping those little red and yellow

creatures that seemingly grew out of the sidewalks,

spilling into gritty gutters where we could find anything –

old photos floating in puddles heading uptown or a medal

or a set of rosary beads, or keys to someone else’s life.


 Maria Lisella, USA





The sixth Queens Poet Laureate, Maria Lisella was awarded a Poet Laureate Fellowship from the American Academy of Poets; she co-curates the Italian American Writers Association. Collections include Thieves in the Family, Amore on Hope Street and Two Naked Feet. She contributes to La Voce di NY and is the Poetry Editor for Voices in Italian Americana, VIA.

Mirela Leka Xhava, Albanie/France



Les lampes de rue

Les lumières jaunes de ma ville ne dorment pas,
je marche et m'enveloppe dans les couleurs du pinceau Van Gogh
Sous eux, je fais des pas et saute à l'ancienne  époque.

Lampadaires de style baroque
où manquent les anciens allumeurs de rêves
Et les escaliers ,pour monter au ciel.

Témoins silencieux les lampadaires
Les nuits où les amoureux s'embrassent
Depuis des siècles ils passent la lumière comme une torche.

L'insomniaque les lumières jaune de ma ville
quand la lune manque, elles brillent plus
nuits d'hiver sombres et orageuses.


 Mirela Leka Xhava




 Mirela Leka Xhava est née en 1966, dans la ville d'Elbasan, en Albanie.  Elle est diplômée en Langue et Littérature albanaises et a travaillé comme bibliothécaire à l'Université de la ville. Elle à  récemment publié des poèmes dans plusieurs revues littéraires nationales et internationales. Parallèlement, elle s'occupe de traductions de la langue française pour plusieurs revues littéraires en Albanie.  En attendant, elle se prépare pour la  publication d'un nouveau volume de poésie.  Vit et travaille à Bordeaux-France depuis 2002.

Daniela Feltrinelli, Italy



Tra la luna e la stella

(notte in lockdown)


Tra la luna e la stella

in una notte troppo quieta,

aspettando il grido dei rapaci

padroni del buio

nella città deserta,

finestre come occhi,

accese e immobili le luci dei lampioni.


Le vite sono appese ad un filo

che potrebbe spezzarsi...

E il freddo mi stringe

il buio mi respinge

e non resisto neppure qui

tra la luna e la stella!



 Between the moon and the star


(night in lockdown)



Between the moon and the star


in a too quiet night,


waiting for the raptors’ cry


masters of the dark


in the deserted city,


windows like eyes,


the street lamps are lit and still.



Life is hang by a thread


that may break...


And  cold grips me


darkness repels me


and I cannot resist even here


between the moon and the star!



Daniela Feltrinelli




Daniela Feltrinelli: Nata a La Spezia, nel Golfo dei Poeti da cui trae spesso ispirazione, insegnante, ha pubblicato due libri di poesie: Isole vicine, Agorà&co.2018 e L’incanto dell’onda, Helicon 2020, entrambi premiati in molti concorsi letterari. Fin dall’adolescenza ha scelto la poesia come mezzo introspettivo e comunicativo; partecipa spesso a reading ed iniziative culturali. Sa apprezzare ogni forma di espressione artistica.


Pedro Licona, Colombia


Al norte de los tiempos, un paisaje.


Suave, repetida, llega

La explosión de luces pequeñas

Entre avenidas, palacios, jardines, museos

 La  luz del sol, sinfonía pequeña.

No es el tamaño, el destello

La insistencia del amor, la bienvenida

El descubrimiento, la elegante villa

Prendida con sus garras al tiempo

desde los años cincuenta, sesenta.


Así Turín, Torino, en Italia, madre primera

Propósito limpio,

Avenidas  tejidas como rayos desnudos,

Cuenco dorado de propuestas al futuro.

La ciudad no duerme

Mantiene sus ojos abiertos

Al destello de los Alpes imponentes

Flores trenzadas, cegadoras,

 Alejan la oscuridad al buen vivir.






Con el paso de los carros, las personas

la invasión de sorpresas, la alegría.

A espaldas de los Alpes, la ciudad

La resurrección, la luna roja.


Pasan los aviones,

El impulso de los años

El correteo de  niños y viejos,



Todo es calma en el paisaje limpio

Una brisa alcanza la respiración, el viento

Un  olor  a lluvia atraviesa las paredes,


se deshiela  la luz.


Pedro Licona 




Pedro Licona (Colombia). Es poeta, novelista, cuentista y editor.  Numerosos libros de poemas publicados, entre ellos: Receta para llamar el amor, 2006; El toque del tiempo, 2009; Cuarto creciente, 2010; Danza del celo en París, 2012; Alma serrana, 2014; En otra calle, 2016. Novelas publicadas: 7 y 45, 2007; Samba palo, 2011; Tiempo de gracias, 2014. Libros de cuentos publicados: Lámparas de mi tierra, 1983 y Campeón de sueños, 1984.


Neal Whitman, USA


 In My Imagination a View of Ville Lumière at Night
Artist Mario Merz often made use of the Fibonacci sequence of numbers in his creations, one of which was Il Solo del Numero, with the first four Fibonacci numbers written with red neon lights on one side of Turin’s four-faced Mole Antonelliana’s dome. Learning of this inspired my use of the Fibonacci sequence in the syllable count for this poem.*
my eyes
and pretend
to travel from home.
Al Monte dei Cappuccini 
is located in the Capuchin Monastery.
told me 
its cuisine
was exceptional
and the view is unparalleled.
I imagine all this sipping un aperitivo
a wise
offers this advice:
look for a well-chosen terrace; 
sit in comfort and let the city sights come to you. 
is sublime.
Turin is soundless
from this glorious vantage point.
There is peace in the quietude of this special perch.
we can see
mountains a backdrop
to the stunning scene of Turin.
City lights twinkling, tonight “The Mole” is lit in blue.
*In the sequence based on work of 12th century Italian mathematician Fibonacci, the first two numbers are 0 and 1. Each subsequent number is the sum of the previous two. A Fibonacci poem uses those numbers for syllable count per line. Think of the 0 as the pause before starting to read.
Neal Whitman 
Neal Whitman (USA) lives in Pacific Grove, California, with his wife, Elaine. Neal began to write poetry in 2005. In 2021 and 2022, he and Elaine co-edited the Yuki Teikei Haiku Society members anthology. 

Glória Sofia, Cape Verde



City goddess


Goddess of the city unties from the belly of poppies

Spin there under the petaled city

That dress the floor in a charm

Leave the people in amazement

My goddess walked down the street

She walked around town and danced all naked

Kissing and giving in to the sun

She danced with all the brightness of the lighthouse

City goddess dragged energy

She jumped and let out joy

Playing the stars of the night

And in the city the horizon was brightening


Deusa da cidade


Deusa da cidade desata do ventre das papoilas

Rodopia ali sob a cidade em pétalas

Que vestem o chão num encanto

Deixa a luz povo num espanto

Minha deusa caminhava pela rua

Andava pela cidade e dançava toda nua

Beijando e entregando-se ao sol

Bailava com todo o brilho do farol

Deusa da cidade arrastava energia

Pulava e soltava alegria

Jogando os astros da noite


E na cidade clareava o horizonte


   Glória Sofia, Cape Verde




Glória Sofia, born in the city of Praia in Cape Verde

She has been invited for 3 University from Boston Harvard University, Tufts University and Boston University

She's also represented her country Cape Verde in VIII Conference,UMass Boston, gala cidad la paz Bolivia.

Her poetry has been translated into more than 15 languages, in 2020 she win one prize for UMPPL.She participated in International Poetry Festival in (Curtea de Arges), (Istanbul), Ditet & Naimit.

Kapardeli Eftichia, Greece


Μια μέρα ακόμα αγνή
σε μια γωνιά κρυφή ...οι φίλοι

Στην φωταγωγημένη πόλη
ο διάλογος αιώνιος
και οι συντροφιές αγκαλιασμένες
με "νίκες""αμαρτίες" και "ενοχές"

Σε όλους τους δρόμους τούτης
της πόλης
στον αέρα που τις φωνές και
τις λέξεις μπερδεύει
σε όλες τις γωνιές , μέρες καθημερινές

Έρημες σκιές απλώνονται
σε φτωχές και πλούσιες γειτονιές
μα στην μεγάλη τούτη πόλη
στα παράθυρα και στις πλατείες
μου χαμογελούν
παιδιά ακόμη




One day still pure

it dawns

in a corner hidden ... friends

In the illuminated city

the eternal dialogue

and companions embraced

with "victories" "sins" and "guilts"

On all the streets of this city

in the air that voices and

words get confused

in all corners, everyday

Desolate shadows spread out

in poor and rich neighborhoods

but in this great city

in windows and squares

they smile me children still




Qytet i tërlavd

Një ditë, ende e virgjër
një cepi të fshehtë... miqësitë
Qytetit, që mes dritash ndriçon
dialog shekullor,
përqafuar i gjen shoqëritë
me “fitoret”, “mëkatet”, “fajësitë”
Në të gjitha rruginat e këtij
ku zëra dhe fjalë
ngatërohen ajrisë,
zbulon në çdo cep, të zakontat ditë.
Ndehen hije shkretish,
mëhallave të pasura, pa pare...
por këtij qyteti të stërmadh
ndër sheshe, në dritare
më buzëqeshin 





Παλιές πέτρες χορταριασμένες
στο φωταγωγημένο
λιμάνι του Ορίζοντα
Ρίζωσε το άδικο και
οι απλοί καλοί άνθρωποι
ξαγρυπνούν στην οδύνη
Στην ίδια πόλη

με αίμα αδελφικό
η μοίρα σωπαίνει
Όμως πίσω από τα
παράθυρα το όνειρο
σκέπασε τις γυμνές ώρες
και έπλασε το φως
με τρυφερότητα και καλοσύνη
Ταξιδεύουν ............
της αγάπης οι καρποί
μοίρασαν την καρδιά μας
στον αθώο ουρανό
Καλοί άνεμοι




Old grassy stones

in the illuminated

port of Horizon


Root out the wrong and

the ordinary good people

they wake up in agony


In the same city

with brotherly blood

fate is silent



But behind the

windows the dream

cover the bare hours

and created light

with tenderness and kindness


They travel ............

the fruits of love

they shared our heart

in the innocent sky


Good winds


Kapardeli Eftichia, Greece 




Kapardeli Eftichia lives in Patras. She writes poetry, stories, short stories, haiku, essays. She has studied journalism too A.K.E.M. and has many awards in national competitions. She has many national and international anthologies to her credit. She is a member of the World Poets’ society and poetas del mundo , member of the IWA, member of Ε.Ε.Λ.Σ.Π.Η The Union of Greek Writers-Authors of the Five Continents , member of the INTERNATIONAL SOCIETY OF GREEK LITERATURES-ARTISTS-DEEL and PEL (the world association of writers in Greece) Panhellenic Union of Writers


Alejandra Miranda, Argentina

ENCAJE DE LUZ, fine art photo by Alejandra Miranda, Argentina





Los últimos rayos del sol

pintan de naranja los troncos de los árboles,

junto a un río convertido en mercurio caudaloso.

El silencio impregna de soledad las almas,

las envuelve con recuerdos, miedos y sombras

que se clavan como fantasmas sin paz

en la penumbra creciente .

Con los párpados cerrados,

el alma agotada de tanta oscuridad

desea con fervor  un brillo que la oriente.

El milagro comienza a titilar…

La ciudad se enciende lentamente

hasta que estalla en un encaje luminoso.

La belleza nos rodea y acompaña,

dispersa  la noche,

Y nos permite ver en lo oscuro

con esperanza.


Alejandra Miranda (2022, Argentina)




Alejandra Miranda (Argentina): artista visual, escritora y curadora. Directora de cultura de la ciudad de La Paz (Entre Ríos, Argentina). Representante del movimiento Imagen y Poesía en su país.


Rebecca (Becky) Lowe, Wales, UK



Dark phase


You and I avoid the sun,

Preferring, instead,

The subtlety of moonlight,

Where serenaded by shadows,

We hold court

Among dwindling lanterns

And trembling trees


Like cats in hiding,

We slip, skulking

Through the light-stippled

And mud-banked alley


Where trees, unburdening themselves of leaves,

Whisper conspiratorially over moon-dipped pavements,

Trace the silver path of the snail’s trail


Our shadows dance together behind illicit railings,

Then stride off, monster-legged,


Dandying through the thick, black streets.


Rebecca Lowe, UK




Postscript: Swansea, Midnight


And so, our day is done, and the night shall fall upon out shadows and our dreams, and take us to who knows where – and who knows what new adventures shall greet us in the morning?


For now, the monster night sweeps his inky self through streets of stone, burrowing through the backyard alleys, past billowing sheets and the sleek, black backs of cats.


Inside, the children, tucked safe between smug ramparts of pillows,dream of white knights and sweet princesses in aged battlements


He passes them over, light as a finger, and moves on down the hill, pointed into shadows by the newly-born sun.





Rebecca Lowe is a poet based in Swansea, Wales, UK. Her collection Blood and Water is available from The Seventh Quarry (www, A second collection Our Father Eclipse is available from Culture Matters (

Katherine L. Gordon, Canada

Dreaming Cities of Light
                 for Guido Chiarelli
He did not see darkness,
silver stars lit the alleys,
moon walked paths between
the houses, little shops, the wine at tables,
windows and doors caught the light.
He reached for clever snares of glass and metal
to entice and capture all the radiance of sky,
transform it to lamps and globes, glitters of pendants
to echo and enhance all the prisms of starry wonders
to shine from pillars and posts
radiating the love of midnight life,
embracing arms and eyes of lovers
making the city shine,
calling all to urban delights from dark fields beyond,
promising every delight.
He is immortal in the glowing beauty of his shining chandeliers,
his gift of holding light
so we can keep it in our hearts, an aria of life,
and bloom beneath it.
 Katherine L. Gordon (Canada)
Katherine L. Gordon (Canada)
Award winning poet, publisher, author, judge and reviewer,
promoting poetry as a force to unite the world.
Writing from the lush and lamplit garden of Guelph, Ontario, Canada.

Lou Fu, Taiwan





作者/洛芙    (台灣)












“ Relive Childhood Memory”


Like a small country road extending in the 1950

That’s been missing, 


As it’s been soup-thickened in the black & White dreamland 

Its wild strawberry-like episode. 


Enabling the morning glory flowers to lie in the dimly darkened night,


Upon the party dilapidated low wall along the slanting slope,


To be crawling in curves slowly zigzagging onward.


Authored by: Lou Fu (Taiwan) 


Translator: Morris Huang (Taiwan)




Lou Fu (Hsu, shih-ting) is an international poet from Taiwan. In 2022, he was awarded the "2021 Outstanding Young Poet Award" by the Taiwan New Poetry Society. In the same year, he won the 2022 Naji Naman International Literary Prize in Lebanon.


Preety Sengupta, USA

  • Statue of Liberty
  • Liberty Enlightening the World
  • (fine art photo by Preety Sengupta)


 : : 1 : : The Great White-Way : :


“Aakaash Ganga”

- the celestial river high up in the sky -

Has always been amused to see

‘The Great White-Way’ down below :

Earth’s own Starry Path -

A very special phenomena, that is

The City of New York,

With its thousands of lights proclaiming

The glorious presence of a hundred theatres

On Broadway and Off.

The solid structures are stars themselves,

Shining bright every night

With swirls of Imagination and Creativity,

An endless flow of inspiration and hope.

Uplifting the minds and hearts of its people

This constant flow of Light

- synonymous, somehow, to Love itself -

Is a good companion to the Milky Way above.



 : : 2 : : The Eighth Continent : :


Lit up from within,

With the eternal internal glow

         of its own existence,

This place stands apart :

Beyond belief, yet believable;

Distinct, not distant;

Extraordinary, and everybody’s;

Seemingly real, but a mirage;

It exists upon this earth,

But is like nowhere else -

A charming contradiction.

This City of New York

Is its own separate continent -

At once authentic as well as imagined,

Like Adam and Eve

And the bite of the Forbidden Fruit.

This City is its own Big Apple,

With a possibility of unending bites

For its citizenry -

At once happy and hapless to be here,

Loving it and still feeling lost in it.

Right from the soft circles that

      its many homely street lamps make

To the skyscraping arrogance

      of its high and mighty illumination

This place is like a beam, a beacon,

A journey as well as a destination.

It is my home,

It is me myself



 Preety Sengupta


Preety Sengupta, a published poet, essayist and fiction writer, has lived in

New York City for such a long time that she thinks she rightfully qualifies as a Newyorker.


Hj Mohd Ali bin Hj Radin @ H.MAR, Brunei




I saw notes scattered in the middle of this city,

while I picked up my hands so stiff.

In a sweet taste when a pleasant mind,

seeing the light of the city lights warms the atmosphere of the night,

I bring these notes into a sad thought to the mind.


The human soul through time has been lost;

And a lot of heartbreaking notes to think about.

I walked with my head bowed along the streets of the city,

which is illuminated by a rather dim light.


What man has made man,

through notes and tears, in the souls of the people of this city.

And life is at every step of the way,

enjoying the air I breathe and drowning in night dreams.


People in the middle of the city quite rarely reprimand and talk.

Thought cannot measure the height of hope of the people in this city,

especially at night and drizzle,

but the movements made by the men brought him closer to the living dead.


To catch windy and cold air;

And I must think, rearranging these notes.

If this belief comes from heaven,

don't I have reason to regret being in the middle of this city.




Brunei Darussalam







Dr. Hj Mohd Ali bin Hj Radin @ H.MAR . His written work comprises: Anthology of poems and short stories titled Hidup Yang Mati (DBP Brunei: 1996); Novel titled Kota Kaca (DBP Brunei: 2003 & 2020); Anthology of drama and short stories titled Taman ‘O’ (DBP Brunei: 2003); Collection of poems titled Gelora (DBP Brunei: 2011 & 2022); Collection of short stories Exotis (DBP Brunei: 2018); and Collection drama title Taman Mimpi (DBP Brunei: 2021). 

Helen Bar-Lev, Israel

  • "Tiberias at night"
  • coloured pencil and ink
  • 8x12 cm. 
  • painting by Helen Bar-Lev
  • Israel



A dirty, busy city,

city of emperors and immigrants

of fishermen and tourists,

where holy men once walked

on water as well as land

in this place of slow-lapping waves

of a harp-shaped lake

and its pebbly shores


Fresh fish stalls in the middle of malls

between restaurants and discount stores

traffic and heat and shouts

falafel and shwarma

belie any pretense of elegance


But at night, as the car trudges up

and we look down, below

from the height of the mountains

Tiberias shimmers, glitters,

a jeweled tiara of lights,

orange, blues, whites

or like a milky way in a reversed universe


Many things look better

from afar



  Helen Bar-Lev




Helen Bar-Lev (Israel/USA) was born in New York in 1942.   She has lived in Israel for more than 50 years and has had over 100 exhibitions of her landscape paintings.   Six poetry collections, all illustrated by Helen.  She is the Amy Kitchener senior poet laureate and was nominated for the Pushcart Prize in 2013.  She is the recipient of the Homer European Medal for Poetry and Art.