Friday, 31 December 2021

world wide web magazine ghorsowar Dec issue 2021 3rd part


 ghorsowar world wide multilingual web magazine....

Editor. Nihar Ranjan Das .
Editorial and coordinator team....

 Marlene Pasini 
( Mexico )
Gitan Alice lleana 
( Romania)
Miroslava Panayotovs 
(Bulgaria )
Madhu Gangopadhyay, ( India ).
Mala Chakraborty , (India )
Purbasha Mandol 
( India )
Smita Gupta Biswas , (India )
Subrata Roychoudhury (India ) 
Monju Ghosh Choudhury (India) 
Sujit Baksi ,( India )
Sanjita Das laskar, 
( India )
Kakoli Ghosh( moon),
( India )
Milka J. Šolaja 
( Serbia )
Carmen Silva 
( Romania )






Silvia Ortiz  
( Virginia ) 

Tear me apart if you want
From now on and forever 
I give you my misfortune 
the aurora is already dead 
the stubborn slab look 
divide the dinner like this
Don't the planets emerge
the offering cup? 
do not twist the bushings 
in the gnawing of time? 
I install minute hand 
I am not the eternal owner 
the noise of the seas 
in someone else's lot 
I carry young people 
in my blind spine.
I have the hells 
pending a penalty 
ferment me little by little 
in the lantern of the hole 
my balance bites me 
I await my lying 
cultivate me if you want 
under the gray log, 
do not extend the truce any more, 
some no longer beg 
don't beg the saints 
the entire madrigal.
Tear me off the wall 
forgetfulness 
cut me off if necessary 
pieces of my piece 
and in my innocence orchard, 
the caucuses shoot me 
and come on, I demand it 
pour my blood 
over nothing all bland 
the whole orb ripples 
stillness in the moans 
sparse winter  and poor 
crunch of the boys.
Don't give up my temples 
in eyes that I already excuse 
I exonerate strong airs 
peace is my reef 
my mountain and my cabin 
do not alter my regret 
don't blame the dough 
that sealed me in the womb 
shoot the rage 
I await faithful silent 
do not keep face and card 
the heavens in front of the fire 
give up if you want 
tear if necessary 
the gradual coat.
The light stamp goes 
and the edge of the knife 
death already reaches me 
and at the edge of the bonfire 
hand me over slowly 
with death if necessary 
the strong flames burn 
fear not there is no delirium.
Don't extend another kiss 
that absent leads life 
don't go so strong 
crying is useless 
your fire has been extinguished 
in every dead kiss 
bring me down again.
Rip me off again 
chest 
sternum 
myrrh has already made a nest 
in bedroom appointments 
the raw stiletto 
the lazy innkeeper 
torpedo slope.
The bones in her row 
the meat in the impure skin 
pours me every kiss 
that took my source 
cowardice hurts, my cal 
my sun  
on your waist 
ferment me if you want 
morning, afternoon and night.
They no longer reach the mountains 
neither fires  
nor the stinking madrigal, 
I have enough 
to the God of love 
to the God who is alive 
to the God who attacks me 
to which holiday he goes 
and wait for me to receive.
The human anchor bites me 
and always keep me alone 
that I live full tracing 
the absence of my shadow 
my name was shot down 
in the untouched thicket.





Purbasha Mondal
( India )

Matua 

I saw you 
in the red flag of a temple 

I saw you 
singing your promises
your sorrows float
 in Kamanasagar

I saw 
your trembling hairs 
dancing with the joyous smile
of a lion

I saw 
your shape 
keeping the bliss
of Dhuli

I saw 
your tears 
pouring the mercy
of Hari

I saw you 
among the mundane souls
I saw you 
among the saints

At the end of night
I saw you
in the blood of a revolutionary






Galina Dzgoeva.
( Russia )

To prove how much you love
Don't need a lot of extra words
And dress super stylish
No expensive tents needed.
Just give each other hands.
It is possible to catch a glance
Hear the sounds of the heart
Follow what your feelings tell you.
When mutually "sparkle" -
You don't need to put out that fire.
So love is knocking on you
Drink it like nectar. 

The touches of the hands do not warm up anymore,
In a glance, the spark goes out suddenly -
We'll have to disperse sooner
And become a supporter of separation.






Stefania Miola 
(  Italy )

Letter to my little girl.

Do not ask me why'
there is war,
power, hatred
remorse,
the grudge
violence.

Do not ask me why'
people are afraid
to live without chains.

There are things that
they cannot be clarified
and others that you can
just see by closing the
eyes and opening the heart.

Hear the sound of the snow
that softly covers the earth
and populates the skies in winter.

Feel the warmth of a hug
and the delicate scent of a caress.

Listen to the rain dance.

You feel that flickering in the
your tummy when I kiss you?

Marvel!
Come on, the water has no color
but it's life.

On the night that I won't be there
cover yourself with this thought.






বিদিশা সরকার

দামিনী
শালুক সভ্যতা আদি,জোনাকির পথ
মা'কে ছেড়ে স্বপ্নে হাঁটা যুবতী শরীর
 তুমুল বৃষ্টির ছাটে সাঁকো জড়সড়লো
 হারানো সইয়ের ঘরে আলো কুন্ঠা নেভা -
প্রতিটা বিদ্যুতে ছিল মানচিত্র দেশ
 ভিটের ঘুঘুরা জাগে, ঘুমায়নি ওরা
 পথ শেষ হলে রাস্তা, উন্নয়ন ঢ্যাড়া,
আলোর মিছিল ট্রাক মোবিল পিচ্ছিল।
 কোথায় চলিস মেয়ে? ও মেয়েটি থাম...
একে চন্দ্র দুইয়ে পক্ষ তিনে নেত্র যদি
 চতুর্বেদের জন্মে গর্ভজ যন্ত্রণা
 সেই আর্তনাদ সেই মুহূর্ত মাশুলে
 দুই চোখ বুজে থাকে দুই চোখ জেগে।
 আডেসিভে জোড়া লাগা সমস্ত ধীক্কার
 টহলধারীর চোখে উপার্জণ নাচে
 লাশের ওপরে লাশ তার উপরে আরও
 পাতালের বুকে শুয়ে জননী যন্ত্রনা,
কী দেখেছ? দেখিনি তো, কী শুনেছ
 না না - আহ্নিক গতিতে রাত আসন্ন দিবসে
 কাপড়ে মোড়ানো শব বিদ্যুৎ বাহিত।






Chen Hsiu –chen陳秀珍(Taiwan)

Christmas Gifts

Santa Claus
carried a big red bag
full filled with blessing gifts
sledding through the heavy snowstorms and
sliding down the chimney pipe accompanied with jingle bells. 

Time sounds tick-tack tick-tack
as the voices of heartbeat
I'm afraid falling asleep for waiting too long. 

Modern Santa Claus
emerges out of the internet
with his big red bag
full filled with happy words
wish you, you and you rich. 

People need no longer to spend time
in dressing up a Christmas trees
and also no longer to wait for
the gifts packed with butterfly knots. 
The pocket moneys for celebration will fall from the sky, 
more than raindrops in rainy season, 
more than faded petals from cherry blossoms. 

With the big fortune of great money
you can buy thousands socks to receive the gifts.
Who will care Christmas, 
who will care
the slow motion of Santa Claus. 















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