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World Poetry Proudly Presents Marieta Maglas From Romania!

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World Poetry Would like to welcome our first poet from Romania!

Born in Romania ,Radauti, the poetess Marieta Maglas studied at the University of Medicine in Cluj-Napoca (1982-1987), earning the diploma of doctor-medic in dentistry. She has started to write poetry since she was 14 years old publishing her poems on Romanian literary magazines as ‘’Azur ‘’,’’Clopotul’’,’’Junimea Literara’’. At 14 years age, she won the second place National Award for Poetry,the poems being published on the national literary magazine ‘’Contemporanul’’. Later , her poetry was published on different English literary magazines like ‘’The Burning Splint”,’’Ezine articles’’, ‘’ Ikenobo Ikebana Society of America’’ , ‘’Velvetillusion’’(Alabama) ,’’Lusi Library’’,’’Ansel Cheng Photography’’,’’Articlebase’’,’’Allvoices’’, ‘’German Trans’’,’’ Curated Exhibitors’’ and many others.


The idea staying on
its edge of dream
like the winter
melting on its edge of spring,
so serendipitously
to give birth to
the reality.

Pygmalion And Galatea

Your sight was poignantly penetrating  me within.
Your blue eyes were even more bittersweet in that opaque singleness,
our touch was like a sadness piano song.

I did  not know when you really wanted to exist for yourself
while pretending to be existent.
I kissed you and you thought that it was only a kiss
but I wanted to swallow your silence
and to blow into the air your defense.

You were dying inside of you.
You loved me in this  secret room of ours.
We could understand our existence.
That room kept us hidden from the whole world for a second.

In our  dream, we became free
We tried to free  our mind and our souls,
but our dream couldn’t  generate any idea.

We made love for no other reason but to love each other.
I  became a milky white ivory Galatea of yours.
You made me your woman for that sense of belonging.

I needed that, I  wanted my own metamorphosis.
I became  that Galatea not being able to leave the love cell.
In your absence, I became that Galatea wallowing in hopelessness
understanding that the sadness was the  only thing really existent inside.
I became that Galatea wanting to see again your green-blue loving eyes.

You became that Pygmalion of mine,  for without me…..you…..

Marieta Maglas (c)

World Poetry Proudly Presents Mutiu Olawuyi a Gambian-based Nigerian Poet!

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We are honoured to welcome a new member and talented poet, Mutiu Olawuyi to World Poetry! 

Mutiu Olawuyi (JP) is a Gambian-based Nigerian Poet, translator, literary critic, anthologist and activist. He is the initiator and Managing Editor of MUSE FOR WOMEN and POETRY ZONE groups (online) -where poets from corners of the world ink to say NO TO VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN and share their work for constructive criticism respectively. He published three collections of poetry titled: AMERICAN LITERARY LEGENDS AND OTHER POEMS (2010) and THOUGHTS FROM THE JUNGLE (2012) and 9/11 POETRY (2012). He edited and contributed to the maiden ANTHOLOGY OF THE MUSE FOR WOMEN (2012). His poems and articles have appeared in international journals and magazines in Nigeria, India, United States, Ireland, Greece, England and Canada. Olawuyi also has some of his poems translated to Yoruba, Arabic, Malayalam, Telugu, Greek, Esperanto and Hungarian. For more information about Mutiu, go to http://versesofthejunglepoet.blogspot.com

My Days Outside Were Never Wasted
By Mutiu Olawuyi

I do not believe they were wasted
my days outside Ikirun-Agunbe;
the cola-nut demography where – son
of the soil – I call proudly myself
even though my mother’s womb landed
me not really there, but Ilesha.

I do not believe they were wasted the days I spent in Mesu-Jamba land;
for there I sipped cups of witty water
and became precacious in body and spirit
Even though I smelled hell from her window,
she made me strong and fired my race.

I do not believe they were wasted
those months I spent in Oji-River;
the land of Abacha, Apu and Ogbono,
where women plough, men befriend palmwine,
and the youths jump joyously behind masquerades.
There I learned the aching life of loneliness.

I do not believe they are wasted
the years I spend beyond my father’s land,
as the wing took me via the caring air away to Brikama, and through the tick soil to Tabokoto
and ultimately to MDI boulevard – for there I tasted the life of a kinless alien among aliens.

Olawuyi Mutiu’s Collection of Poetry,


          (vi)     Olawuyi Mutiu’s Collection of Poetry,


          (vii)    Olawuyi Mutiu’s Collection of Poetry,


          (viii)    J P Chomsky (Olawuyi Mutiu) Poetry Innovation called 9even Poetry


          (ix)     Yoruba Version of Benjamin’s Quincouplet


          (x)      Olawuyi’ Poetry Collection – Muse India Forum


          (xi)     The Song of My Soul, Carty Poetry Journal, Ireland

http://cartyspoetryjournal.com/Issue_09/CPJ-IX.pdf (xii)     The Journey to the Archangels (translated to Greek by Chryssa

Velissariou), Bilingual Magma, Greece. http://magmachr.blogspot.com/2012/04/journey-to-archangels-mutiu.html

(xiii)   Tell Me What I Am (translated to Esperanto by Benjain C

          Krause),Youngstown, USA.


(xiv)   The Contagions, The Fib Review, USA


(xv)    The Journey to the Archangels (12), Shot Glass Journal, USA http://www.musepiepress.com/shotglass/mutiu_olawuyi1.html


          (i)       Computer as a Developmental Instrument for the Nigerian

Educational Sector, The Sophist Magazine, Unilorin               2008

            (ii)      American Literary Legends and Other Poems, I-Proclaim

Press, United States of America                                            2010

(iii)         Tell Me What I Am Liebamour: A Psychedelic Literary Journal (Issue 3),

P. 17 Youngstown, USA. (http://www.amazon.com/Liebamour-Issue-3-

Music/dp/0983058881                                                         Sept.   2011

(iv)        Abnormalities in Spoken English, Poetry Rival’s Words Everlasting, England, p. 49 http://www.amazon.co.uk/Poetry-Rivals-Collection-Words-Everlasting/dp/1844185907                                        Dec., 2011

(v)          Olawuyi Mutiu (2012a), An Overview of Socio-Political Influences of Modern Anglo-African Films: A Case Study of Gambia, Ghana and Nigeria, Kottaka Media Journal (Issue 1, Pg 34-36), Kerala, India.


(vi)         Mutiu Olawuyi (2012c)Thoughts from the Jungle, Diamond Points Press, USAhttp://www.amazon.com/Thoughts-Jungle-Mutiu-Olawuyi/dp/098305889X  ISBN-13: 978-09830588


World Poetry Proudly Presents Syrian Canadian Ghada Alatrash!

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Ariadne writes: we want to welcome a new World Poetry Member, the talented translator and poet Ghada Alatrash!  Her poem “The Art Teacher” made such an impression on me that whenever I saw a pomegranate , I wanted to buy it and look for its mystery.


So That the Poem Remains.








So That the Poem Remains: Arabic Poems by Lebanese-American Youssef Abdul Samad, Selected and Translated by Ghada Alatrash. 

“Through my translation, I am attempting to build bridges between East and to fill in the gap of the almost total absence of an Arab cultural or literal position in the West.

Here is a note from the back cover of my book: Daughter of former Syrian Ambassador Jabr Al-Atrash, GHADA ALATRASH immigrated with her family from Syria to the United States in 1986. She holds a Master of Arts in English from University of Oklahoma, USA. She is an op/ed columnist for Gulf News, UAE, and was previously op/ed columnist for the Cranbrook Daily Townsman. She taught English at Abu Dhabi Women’s College, UAE, and was an Adjunct Lecturer of Arabic at University of Oklahoma. She has served as a board member for the Multicultural Advisory Board of British Columbia, Canada. She is a member of the New Pen League, New York. She currently resides in BC, Canada.

…Like a rose in a poem, you do not wither; recited a thousand times, it always remains new. If Earth were to return to water, to water we would also return, and the poem remains. – Youssef Abdul Samad

And it is so that the poem remains, so that the young can better understand the old, and so that there is universal harmony and connectedness between East and West, I present my readers with this work of translation.” Ghada Alatrash

“The Art Teacher”

Once, my art teacher said to me:
“Draw the moon for us;”
and I replied,
“But I do not trust
the moody moon.”

So I began to draw grapes
then I plucked them,
puzzled by those who say,
“a bunch of grapes
taste like watered wine!”

I sketched a turtle;
I pencilled in a rabbit;
and I drew a beautiful bird
with feathers colored
like the pupil of an eye.

Furious, my teacher demanded:
“Draw the moon for us!”
But instead
a pomegranate appeared,
glittering like the sun.

Outraged, she yelled,
“You failed!”
…O how I long
for a pomegranate
to fall from a branch of our tree!

I thought for long
about her
—my teacher—
on whose breasts
the basil camped.

For I,
I worship pomegranate trees,
under whose shade
I used to sleep
as I felt restless.

While I plucked them,
their fire burned me,
and the burn-scars
still remain
after the years.

I drew a lemon tree
on a piece of paper,
and from its radiance,
the leaves almost budded.

I drew two pomegranates of fire,
and I tasted them—
You who dwell in fire,
believe it when they say
that fire can be such delight.

I still call to mind
their nudity
and I muse over them.
For, …
a harvester is lustful.

How is it
that pomegranate seasons
never come to an end,
nor does their
overflowing blood ever burst?

How is it
that they do not gush
while we eat them?
And how is it that
we do not see their fire as they burn?

I confess
that it was I
who plucked that harvest
and bashfully kept it secret,
but steal it, I did not!

Ghada Alatrash (C)