poetry

I stand at the edge of life / thin, like a knife / swinging between / present and past.

A Turkish court ruled on Tuesday to release Kurdish poet İlhan Sami Çomak after he spent more than 30 years in prison on unproven charges, making him one of Turkey’s longest-serving political prisoners.

about us hums / a mythical insect / a God

Manuel Saturio Valencia Mena (1867-1907) was a teacher, a poet, a popular leader from the Chocó region, and the very last man officially sentenced to death in Colombia. As a child, he participated in the parochial choir and learned both French and Latin under the tutelage of the Capuchin priests. He was an exceptional student and the first black man accepted to Cauca University’s law program. He earned the rank of captain while fighting in La Guerra De Los Mil Dias. He was a lifelong autodidact and served in many important positions in the region. In 1907, he was framed for arson—for likely political reasons—and, after a six-day trial, he was executed by firing squad.

The new poem “Mary of Gaza” was composed by Ibrahim Nasrallah. The English translation is by Huda Fakhreddine.

This poem is believed to be a festive poem for children with religious connotations. It was originally collected by Phillip and Mary Baer from the Lacandon people of the Pelhá region.

In advance of READ PALESTINE WEEK 2024, Publishers for Palestine is releasing a digital chapbook and abbreviated zine version of And Still We Write: Recent Work by Palestinian Poets & Actions You Can Take to Stop Genocide Now.

From the introduction:

“These poems and reflections do not exist separately from their authors, nor from the place and time in which they were composed. They are not here for passive reading. And so, at the end of this collection, we leave you with suggested actions. As poet Rasha Abdulhadi has written:

‘Wherever you are, whatever sand you can throw on the gears of genocide, do it now.’”

With poetry and prose by: Mohamed Al-Zaqzouq, Heba Al-Agha, Nasser Rabah, Samer Abu Hawash, Mahmoud Al-Shaer, Esam Hajjaj, Basman Aldirawi, Doha Kahlout, and more.

Also: On December 1, Publishers for Palestine member Radical Books Collective will host an online discussion of And Still We Write and Isabella Hammad’s Recognizing the Stranger.

María Teresa Ogliastri was born in Los Teques, Venezuela, and lives in Caracas. She is the author of five collections of poetry: Del diario de la señora Mao (From the Diary of Madame Mao, 2011); Polo Sur (South Pole, 2008); Brotes de Alfalfa (Alfalfa Sprouts, 2007); Nosotros los inmortales (We, the Immortals, 1997); and Cola de Plata (Silver Tail, 1994). She has been featured at poetry festivals throughout Latin America, and her poems appear in several anthologies of contemporary Venezuelan poetry. She is a professor of philosophy at the Central University of Venezuela.

Translation of an oral transmission between a mother and daughter. Originally narrated by Yanina Koubatski. Translated, from the Palestinian Arabic, by Reem Hazboun Taşyakan Chrisho, my daughter, I’m going to tell you about what happened to me, but this …

Briceida Cuevas Cob was born in Tepakán, Campeche, Mexico. From 1992 to 1994, she was part of the Maya poetry workshop in the Casa de Cultura de Caliní run by Walderman Noh Tzec. Her work has been widely published and anthologized. She has also been the recipient of numerous awards and scholarships, and in 2010 she became Artistic Creator in the Sistema Nacional de Creadores de Arte.

In solitary life, I was a lost question;

In the encompassing darkness,

my answer was concealed.

You were a bright new star radiating light from the darkness of the unknown, revealed by fate.

The other stars rotated around you —once, twice — until it came to me, your unique radiance.

Then the bleak blackness broke And in the matching tremors of our two hands I found my missing answer.

Oh you! Oh you intimate, yet distant! Don’t you remember the coalescence Of your spirit in flames? Of my universe with yours? Of the two poets? Despite our great distance, Existence unites us – Existence!

source: https://www.amust.com.au/2017/11/fadwa-tuqan-the-poet-of-palestine/

translated by Michael R Burch

biobibliographical note: Fadwa Tuqan became the Grand Dame of Palestinian letters, and was also known as ‘The Poet of Palestine.’ She is considered to be one of the very best contemporary Arab poets.

Sor Tadea de San Joaquín (1750-1827) was a Catholic nun and writer during the Chilean colonial period. She is regarded as the first woman poet of Chile.

Our city fled, And I saw my feet transform Into a river overflowing with blood, Into ships growing distant, expanding, And I saw my drowned shores seducing ... Our city fled, And refusal is a crushed pearl Whose powder anchors my ships, And refusal is a…

Márcia Wayna Kambeba is a member of the Omágua/Kambeba indigenous community in the Brazilian Amazon. She has a master’s degree in geography and is a writer, poet, composer, singer, storyteller, photographer, teacher, and lecturer. She is currently working on a project that combines literary and musical compositions to portray the resistance, culture, and identity of indigenous peoples. She lives in Castanhal, Pará in Brazil.

In 1960, the Syrian Lebanese poet Adonis published his prose poem manifesto and the Lebanese poet Unsi al-Hajj published his collection Lan (Won’t) with its seminal introduction theorising for the possibilities of poetry in prose. These are two theoretical cornerstones that launched the prose poem in Arabic. They are the first instances of using the Arabic term qaṣīdat al-nathr (prose poem) and by that announcing the entrance of the phrase into Arabic as a ‘simple abstraction.’

Adela Zamudio (1854-1928) was a highly intellectual Bolivian writer, feminist, and educator. She wrote verses from her adolescence under the nom de plume “Soledad” and lived her entire life in the city of Cochabamba, dedicated completely to education and literature. She was a formidable debater, using her talents often to defend the rights of women in the official debates of her time. According to her biography in the Antología de la Poesía Hispanoamericana (1965), in 1926 she was officially crowned for the government of her country. She is credited with beginning Bolivia's feminist movement and remains one of its most famous poets.

My mother is three years younger than Nakba. But she doesn’t believe in great powers. Twice a day she brings God down from his throne then reconciles with him through the mediation of the best recorded Quranic recitations. And she can’t bear meek women. She never once mentioned Nakba. Had Nakba been her neighbor, my mom would’ve shamelessly chided her: “I’m sick of the clothes on my back.” And had Nakba been her older sister, she would’ve courted her with a dish of khubaizeh, but if her sister whined too much, my mom would tell her: “Enough. You’re boring holes in my brain. Maybe we shouldn’t visit for a while?” And had Nakba been an old friend, my mom would tolerate her idiocy until she died, then imprison her in a young picture up on the wall of the departed, a kind of cleansing ritual before she’d sit to watch dubbed Turkish soap operas. And had Nakba been an elderly Jewish woman that my mom had to care for on Sabbath, my mom would teasingly tell her in cute Hebrew: “You hussy, you still got a feel for it, don’t you?” And had Nakba been younger than my mom, she’d spit in her face and say: “Rein in your kids, get’em inside, you drifter.”

—Haifa

source: https://internationaleonline.org/ca/contributions/we-have-been-here-forever-palestinian-poets-write-back/ tr.: Fady Joudah

biobibliographical note: Hlewa is an award winning writer living in Haifa, and little known outside of Palestine. This is often the fate of Palestinian writers writing in Arabic and living within the 1948 borders of the settler state. Like my experience with my own family, the Arab literary scene has been historically cut off from Palestinians who never left the homeland. I first encountered this poem through the translation here by award winning Palestinian-American poet, translator, and medical doctor Fady Joudah. In addition to being a most sensitive Palestinian poet writing in English, Joudah is a committed curator and translator of Palestinian and Syrian poets, and his work has introduced me to many writers that I would consequently begin to read and to follow.

Two poems written during the major uprisings of Palestinian resistance against ongoing Israeli occupation in 2021.

Juana Inés de Asbaje y Ramírez de Santillana (1648-1695), or as she is better known, Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, was a self-educated poet, philosopher, and composer during the colonial period in Mexico—then called the territory of New Spain. She was fluent in Latin and Nahuatl in addition to her native Spanish. She is considered one of the most important and influential writers of the period, not merely within the Mexican or Hispanic American traditions, but in the entire Spanish-speaking world. She was forced to join a nunnery in her late teens by her own confessor and later lifelong antagonist the Bishop of Puebla. In a letter years later she would recall this, writing, “If you had known I was to write verses you would not have placed me in the convent but arranged my marriage.” The cloistered life afforded her time, access to books, and a cell of her own, and thus it became her most prolific period. The poetry she composed there would make her famous in the world well beyond the convent walls, and allow her to reel the world back into those walls, receiving many visitors and admirers and earning the protection and patronage of the viceroys of De Mancera, the archbishop viceroy Payo Enríquez de Rivera, and the marquises de la Laguna de Camero Viejo. Her work has long been honored by the Mexican government, and her life and works have inspired numerous authors, composers, and filmmakers. Carlos Fuentes once called her "the first great Latin American poet." She died at age 43 of an unknown plague while caring for a sister of her religious order, shortly after writing the now-famous letter to Sor Filotea de la Cruz, the pen name for the Bishop of Puebla.

we chew off fresh sugarcane and tell overblown stories

The poem featured here was written by an unknown Guaraní poet from the Maká people, an indigenous group native to Paraguay. This type of verse is considered part of the Guaraní tradition of religious songs.

I’m a whisper caught in the city’s breath / An echo trapped in the screams of death.

#Irish #HealthcareWorkers held a #protest against the Israeli atrocities against civilians in #Gaza.

#Transcription of the #poem read in video:

I'm not from Palestine, but here I stand, my eyes telling a thousand stories about a land,
A land of hope, a land of courage
A land where one child is braver than a million men
I am not from Palestine and the world is blind, they won't open their eyes or even take a stand.

Can they hear the children's cries?
Or the bombs that are raining from the skies?

I know they do, but all they do is justify their crimes
I'm not from Palestine, but I bleed because every Palestinian's wound is mine
I'm not from Palestine but I understand that what goes around comes around and that one day the sun will shine and my hands will touch the sand Of a free land called Palestine
I'm not from Palestine, but here I stand, my eyes telling a thousand stories about a land,
A land of hope.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=yQ8vFSKd1EM

From @PressTV on Telegram.

#Ireland
#IrishSolidarity
#Humanitarians
#FreePalestine
#Poem
#IsraelIsATerroristState
#IsraelWarCrimes
#RacistIsrael
#IsraelRogueState
#ArmsEmbargoOnIsrael
#USAFundsGenocide
#BoycottIsrael
#BDSMovement
#BoycottIsraeliApartheid
#StopGenocide
#ApartheidIsrael
#SanctionIsrael
#ZionismIsACult
#HumanityInAction
#Poetry

Manuel Gonzáles Prada (1844-1918) was an influential figure in Peruvian culture and politics during his lifetime. His essays were known for being full of irony and humor, and his innovative poetry has been described as a precursor to Modernism. In addition to his writing and political careers, Prada spent several years working as the Director of the National Library of Peru.

the world is not as bad as our neighbors made it to be that day— we’ve seen worse days— and how beautiful they were, these days living strife: how we loved everything about not having to go to school:

I won’t describe the past for you, I tell you I got held at borders, I tell you I am used to it, and what? What is this record you play over and over: don’t get used to it, you shouldn’t it’s sad—I bow in recognition:

and after the long journey from border to border, wanting only piece after piece of these walls around me to start breaking, what does not getting used to it do for me?

source: https://themarkaz.org/poet-ahmad-almallah/

Ahmad Almallah is a poet from Palestine. His first book of poems Bitter English is now available in the Phoenix Poets Series from the University of Chicago Press. His new book Border Wisdom is now available from Winter Editions. He received the Edith Goldberg Paulson Memorial Prize for Creative Writing, and his set of poems “Recourse,” won the Blanche Colton Williams Fellowship. Some of his poems and other writing appeared in Jacket2, Track//Four, All Roads will lead You Home, Apiary, Supplement, SAND, Michigan Quarterly Review, Making Mirrors: Righting/Writing by Refugees, Cordite Poetry Review, Birmingham Poetry Review, Great River Review, Kenyon Review, Poetry and American Poetry Review. Some of his work in Arabic has appeared in Al-Arabi Al-Jadid and Al-Quds Al-Arabi. His English works have been translated into Arabic, Russian and Telugu. He is currently Artist in Residence in Creative Writing at the University of Pennsylvania.