The pretty wearing a black dress
Inhaling the aroma of the red rose
lying down on beautiful rose petals
humming some songs to make herself happy
Smiling to herself without any cause
It’s just that she is happy playing
With the flowers around her
She walks majestically with an aura
around her like a queen
She looked like an angel fallen from
above for man’s amusement surely !!
They are confused is she a human
Or an angel ?
Then comes a handsome man
With poor looks and good manners
He asks her why are you idling
Your time here
Come with me to the land of plenty
And we can be very happy like king and queen
And marry a bit later if you like the idea
At the outset she said no
Then humbly she obeyed him
And married him in a small way
With only pure fruit juice as their
Wedding food
They rode off to some unknown
Place, not leaving the flowers
As those flowers have no death
They remain always fresh and colourful
An abnormal phenomenon you will ever see !

Sarala Balachandran
Photo google



I know you.
You are the merchant of wisdom.
You have ridden upon
The wings of dragon-like intelligence.
The fountain from your thoughts
Cascades in pearly glory.
Your voice is as rich
As the summer rains in the Kalahari.
Your insights are like the sites of the African jungle –
Intricately beautiful!
You reason like the insouciance of the Nile
And seduce with the strength of the Kilimanjaro.
I know you.
You are the heartbeat of my brain.
You inspire with the innocence of the wilderbeests,
Flaunting the faith of the elephant.
You outrun the cheating cheeteh
And command with the roars of the lion.
You deliver like the flood of the Okavango and thrill like the elegant Thomson Gazelles.
I know you.
You, about whom the Nile Crocs talk through their terrible teeth.
On the back of the graceful giraffes
Your songs travel far and wide.
We seek to be in confluence with you,
Like the mating of the Niger and Benue.
I know you,
The chaperone of the upstart
That makes giggling hyenas scurry in tears like rats before the fire.
Come perch on the wild, wide side of the buttocks of the Savannah.
Together, like the silver-back gorrillas, we can thump our chests
In victory dance
Of the marriage of words.
I know you.
I know you know,
That I know you.

©️ William Warigon ™



Every hour of of a day,
Come wet my dry bay.

I need to be satisfied with the sugar
That sweetens my sweet situation.
You could lift me to be an aggressor
In the swirls of newest Inspiration.

You make golden streets in my dreams.
The toils of the wretched dawn
Cannot steal away my glowing streams.
Walking with you makes me brawn.

Together, we could make the sleek daylight
Come running to us with nude splendid light.

The sweet savour of inspiration
Has the tangiest taste in my moue’d mouth.
You are the Labrador of liberation.
Let me now make, take my North to the South.

©️ William Warigon

THANKLESS By Foridul Hasan

Foridul Hasan

I pass whole day with the earth.
I know it very well by birth.
It makes my lessons more attractive.
It acts as a helping hand to be creative.
It guides me to be good at sports.
It teaches me how to behave in courts.
It shows the ways to lead the nation.
It keeps me solid on my destination.
It enables me to learn morality.
In danger it shows me much pity.
I always get it whenever I seek.
But I am mirthless to its tech.

I only see the mars in my dream.
It’s mere a model in my realm.
It never comes forward in my need.
But to get it I disguise as kid.
I eagerly wait to feel its touch.
I dote it though speaks in dutch.
My eyes get allayed with its beauty.
Because of it I hate reality.
It influences me by sweet effect.
To my eyes it has no defect.

At a night angel claims my soul.
Apart from it I will give you the whole.
Without thinking he rejects my temptation .
To save soul I create aggressive situation.
To you own soul is the best.
Same calculation why not for the rest…?

I WAS NOT GUILTY By Regnard Bishoza

POET : Regnard Bishoza

That I was guilty, the paper said
That I was guilty, the monster sailed
With rattling chains, heavy robes, heavy chains, I was tightened!
Chained with my sons, all in half naked.

On my land, I was enslaved
I grew cash and food, but not consumed.
Whips landed heavily and brutally over my enslaved body, Was salary I deserved !
My cry was his smile, a baboon, I was named.

I was ignorant, of micro and macro light
Under bondage thought, was my best wealth
My best wealth, resided to my blood of wealth
Pharaoh of ancient, got his successor.

My blood, my cry, my torments
Raise a platform, for future pursuit of happiness
Although I am in a tomb, betterment gonna surpass!
I will forget lost hope, victory gonna be my eternal song.



Losing Connection

Leave it behind
heart screams to the mind
disentangle the acquaintance
surrounding and existence…
move far…. farther from familiar
make a subtle promise not to comeback ever..

possibly to a place within a mystic wood
where lies the moments of clumsy childhood
a gurgling shallow stream with transparent water
rippling moonlight over molten silver
darkness within dense foilage
was frightening for those young age..

Forsake every tiny piece of the instant
get rid of every emotional attachment
carry only barest momentous minimum
that erase everything about past humdrum…
present would surely miss the absence of presence
emotions of varied relation won’t ever lose relevance,

lengthening shadows of prolonged lifetime
would remind often about moments sublime
slow steps would cross the meadows of spring
desire to delay the frozen feel of winter chill…
faint sound of some distant melody
would seduce the soul and force it on its knee.

universe slowly seems fading its vibrant role
we grow with age, time hardly ever condole
deafening silence of our indifference towards present
would take its toll surely on our conscious content
time would disturbingly surrender to the twilight sky
hopes and few future aspirations would muffle the sigh…

Image Credit

DÙPÉ By Folorunsho John Ayomide


The fastest hidden
Sacrifice for divinity.
The heavenly piece of peace.
The birds sing
The harmonious accent of it.
Saviour of the dying soul,
A door of endorsements for
The grateful temperament.

Always blind thy riddle.
Make gratitude thy
Day-to-day bread.
Thy situation breathes
Another person’s prayer point.
Slow steady thee
Move close to victory,
Sooner or later thou
Give God the glory.
Arduous struggle
Makes thou a winner,
Even Idùpé gives privilege to
The sinner.

©Folorunsho John Ayomide
©Pensive poet🧠✍️

RETREAT for SELF By Dr. Feliz Ruiz


When was the last time I played the guitar?
When was the last time I looked into my scar?
Should I fly on the carpet of forgetfulness?
Resolve conflict with the art of forgiveness?

When was the last time I sing my songs?
Songs of love, labor, victory, and defeat,
Songs of pain, glory, surprise, disappointment
Songs reflect the very nature of life.

When was the last time I take a re-treat
Of the self that the world has mistreated?
Look into the mirror of the heart, recharge
Seek sustenance from the Ocean of Love.

There are past events that really leave
Deep traces of wounds and hurts on the heart
That only the wonders of Time and Change
Can ever replace with feelings grand, and divine.

© Feliz Ruiz .25.11.2022

PEACE, BE STILL By Okadi Ikenna


Lost in my head,
scrambling to find my way out,
Stuck in a crowded imagination,
Held in chains by my thoughts,
Mayday! Mayday! I’m losing my mind,
Someone help, please, but there’s none in there,
The thoughts I was fed, feast on my mind,
The white cells in my blood, vulnerable as me,
For they too cannot withstand, the disease in my mind,
Alas! doom was to come, but I reached for my heart,
I could swear with my life, I heard a voice,
Speak to my mind,
“Peace, be still” the voice said.




They wobble, fumble in trouble.
They are troubled not trouble .

They give their best shot not to fumble.
They fumble still, they don’t grumble.

They learn as they continue to stumble.
Tired frustrated faces, yet they stay humble.

Don’t gloat when their efforts crumble.
Lift them up and don’t swear in your mumble.

They go through the jumble
While you expect a rumble.

Encourage them to be better.
Water their efforts with your rich milk.
Let them suckle on your letter
That has seen better days but stays as silk.

Lead them to the spring of living water
Like lambs, they’ll follow your every leads.
Guide them to success lane, they’ll saunter
As they pick your brain and sow their seeds.

Teach them tying their shoe laces
For them to find trail their blazes.
Light their dark paths.
Remove their warts.

Beautify their diadem.
Fight for all of them.
Tomorrow comes and they shine…
All because you keep them in line.

The neophytes are merely umbel
Seen as lackeys that bumble.
One day they’ll sound the winning cymbal,
As a group with legendary symbol.

©️ William Warigon ™
📸 Picture By Google

TRENCHES By Folorunsho John Ayomide.


On the flimsy
Route near the canal
Dustbin serve as our
Comfort home
The sun glitter like
Gold that glows inside the fire
Our water stream
Just as a dirty gutter
Mosquitos becomes our daily friend
Even the dirty clear water stay without any Regrets.

No feast control our movement
We become aimless
As a vagabond
Our light keep
Shining in the darkness
We sing our song with sorrow
Our vitalities becomes
Sweet as bitter leaf
Our hopes seems jeopardize
We always feel less and paralyze
Shouting! Shouting!
Oh! Thee trenches do drip us to Paradise.

Shining like a jewel
In the old home
That’s the sun horn
Which turn our bone on
We are the staffers
That bite the stone
Here comes our slogan
Rough and tough!
Rough and tough!
Screeching! Screeching!
Customary bread where are you?

©Folorunsho John Ayomide.
©Pensive Poet🧠✍️


by Joseph Gnatek

What happened to MAGA’s brightest star
cheated out of Arizona governor’s car
Because the vote was counted right
She is suddenly out of sight.

Where’s Kari Lake tonight
Maralago bound in her sad delight
Stand with trump despite what’s right
Going down for the MAGA losers fight.

Such beautiful losers
Always seem to have a gripe
The vote count it’s just never right
If they don’t win tonight.

They love all their fellow men
As long as they hate again and again
None of their cheating is a sin
As long as they should win

Yes she’ll catch a Maralago flight
To be the president’s brightest slight
Perhaps to be the vice president
When trump appoints himself next election night.

© 11/26/22 😌🙏❤️✍️Joe Gnatek

SON SHINE LIKE THE SUN By Sunita Grover Raina


My small world
in my small hands I hold
Be loving ,be caring,
be honest, be bold
Son try to shine
like the sunny sun gold
In you my lost love,
your father, I behold

You came with your destiny
by him well written
I just a media for your soul
to be taught to listen
Though like all mothers
I too am in love smitten
I can only pray to God
for your pain part to be bitten

Son live your life happily
but do keenly observe
You too will get what you
rightfully deserve
Work hard and your life
well manoeuvre
Rest leave it to God
and his wise end to subserve

My experiences might not work
perfectly for you
Do not ever get bothered
by who is who
In the end of the day
it is what good did you do
How much did you love and
how much were you true.

©sunita grover raina 2022
Photo owner is the poet

MY SISTER By Vince Alexus

Meri pyaari Suni didi
Wish you happiness
Joy and gladness
You have endured
Spent lonely nights
Cried silent tears
Overcome fears

Won many fights
Crusader of justice
For humanity
But through it all
Come out victor
Not victim
Inspiration for many

God in His infinite mercy and grace
Brought a smile back to your lovely face

You are a beautiful soul
Pray you bounce back
May Akshar beta
Settle down soon
Then his mama
Will be over the moon

Stay blessed didi
Always your brother
Whom God gave

Thank the Lord
For one more year
In your life
~ Always Viny



The Jones are too much,
We cannot keep up with them.
I thought we could broach
And redo the state of our hem.

But you disavow the sanctity of our vow
You opted for the lights shimmering in Las Vegas.
Methinks we’d last through like Chao.
We went with motions of name change at last.

Will we still be good a friend
Or is this the end of a hitherto bliss
That strings pulled have it end?
No more would we passionately kiss
Bidding a very painful goodbye
As we both so cry with clear eye.

I head to an arid, dry desert of Arizona
Whilst I bid my new ex-wife, Lady LitaMona,
A last solemn farewell, my dear emphora,
I had thought ours would last forever.

Forever is now a mirage.
I’m in search again and again
From the fenced hedge.
Well, this my hope won’t wane.

© William Warigon™
📸By Alamy

PERSPECTIVE By Sushant Thapa


Everybody wants to land
But nobody wants to fall.
The world is a game
A spin to belong is a home.
Finding a space to be
Is a room of life.
No individualistic rites
To drink the dark water
Erase the thirst.
Smiling faces,
Jolly glances
Ways that miss the departure.
Miles to walk
On new shoes.
The pain is to be erased
From the face of gloom.
Time leaves its stain
Some become memory and
Some become a part of life.
No pain, no more miseries
And not a destroyed time.

© Sushant Thapa
Biratnagar, Nepal



The poet has his pen…
A recluse in his den.
A faceless phantom may possess
Or the kind angel to be obsessed.
They that bilked him laugh out loud
But his comeuppance is just about.
His protean thoughts may seem silly or quixotic
But in all, masters the simple and the fantastic.
It is germane that he is benign in the dark,
And malignant when he’s thrown under attack.
Once he wowed those that kow-tow and fawn
Over his lighted thoughts, they think he’s brawn.
He only dresses his pen with perceptive pants
And paints like Picasso his words from his rants.
His masterfulness is God given and not bought
In humble adoration he avails all when sought.
I see him cavorting with the fool
And cannoodling with a wise tool.
His salubrious mind uplifts the lonely and needy
Though bench warmers think he is a fuzzy, fussy, nerdy.
His hand becomes heavy, lifting appreciation
In honour of his fustian or solecismic presentation.
Though the surd in public,
In private a garrulous wick.
I doff off my dusty hat to this puissant poet
That makes my tears and laughter moist.

©️ William Warigon ™
📸 Faceless Pen



My Lord, as faithful as forever…
His love for us, nothing sever…
Those who thrusts knives into our union
Have gone back, tails a-wagging minion.

The Lord is lovely as ever.
When we fall into the gutter of despair,
He picks us up, a Washer.
In everything, He makes it just and fair

Pieces of broken hearts littering our space
For they that call upon Him, He gives answer.
He helps to victory achieve in this hard race,
As long as to Him we give absolute surrender.

For long His long Arms have been reaching,
His Heart healing the brokenhearted.
He’ll bestow upon us love that keeps shining.
Wrongs that stained us He has righted.

Under His wings we find good shade
To shield us from the fires of darkness.
His light makes golden our dour glade;
The Author of our faith and happiness.

When the putrid pool of sin did drown me,
He bent in humility and brought me out.
To brightly shining star, he turned me to be.
On the mountain top, I must Ioudly shout!

©️ William Warigon ™️

Inspired by Aben Cletus Maccabess Cletus Aben
📸Mary of Samson and Praise, Orozo

EVOLUTION OF EXPERIENCED By Lizah David, Margaret Burgess, Melissa Begley, Ian Wilcox and William Warigon


The evolution of experienced
Cumulative life experiences and imprints from past lives
On my sleeve, hangs shining medals of growing pains
A tapestry of karmic lessons and Akashi records recognised
On my head a crown of disappointments settles, as my face mirrors my fears

What do we become when lose the fun?
What becomes of all when lose the call?
Teeth were cracked on tit of experience.
Many times atrocious, some in insouciance.
Flakes of stardust covered in skin and bones
Conscious energy in motion ascending reborn
Painting walls with rainbow colours,
Memories and experiences leave an appealing beauty
Electromagnetism, the veils between the dimensions are thinning and blending bring about new perceptions.
Access to both energies, focus on mental image and concentrate on Angelic forces and understand there are negative entities.

We remunerate, replicate, elaborate and then return
We gain and lose as we choose
Experience was an experience
If only had some clues

Lavish indulgences, perchance a spiral of decay.
Dance with me until the energy of love is dominant.
Quantum physics or a looking glass knows the sojourn.
Our perceptions are shielded from reality.

Carried by the consciousness of GOD
Carried by rivers downstream masterfully in sync
Are we the nightmare or the dream?
Holding place the orchestrated sound of Om

We are gold shining after going through furnace,
We are rooted deeper than we are viewed on surface
We harbour more than the evident on the face
We are old wine blended with new fresh wine.

From the bitter ashes of experience
Evolution of a golden throne emerges
Wisdom hard earned, in nobility reigns.
Around and about is a determined fence

©️An expanding collaboration among
Lizah David, Margaret Burgess, Melissa Begley, Ian Wilcox and William Warigon
One line, two lines, four lines
Developing as each develop a better understanding of each other and each other’s style


💕💝🎂 HAPPY BIRTHDAY Sunita Grover Raina Didi💕💝🔥


My sweet sunny sister, Suni, one so true
You are the sun that makes the sky blue.

An angel that wears the disguise
Of pure goodness without a guise.

You have shortened a long journey
For us with your sweetest poetry.

On my knees, I tease a prayer for you
To rise above every grey cloud and too,

For strength to walk on the thorns of life
Without pain as you overcome any strife.

I bring you a bowl fragranced with love.
For you are truly a sister sent from above.

©️ William Warigon