THE BACK ALLEY

by Shirin Jabalameli

AI-generated graphic by NightCafé for The New Verse News.

The Moon

picks up a broom

and sweeps the sky clean of war’s shadows.

My dream carries me

through a back alley,

wearing a coat of dust

and a backpack of unfinished paintings.

The rusty cart on the corner

rattles with the echo of nameless days,

and the wind has tucked

passersby’s whispers

into the pockets of rain.

I, with a hand

that may not even be mine,

stir the silhouettes of missiles

into my coffee.

At the bottom of the cup,

a world exhausted by politics

fills and empties

the bowl of “what now?”

And when nothing ever ends,

only

the shape of staying changes.

---

Shirin's Poem in its Original Persian:

کوچه پشتی

ماه،

جارو را برمی‌دارد

و آسمان را از سایه‌های جنگ می‌روبد.

خوابم، مرا از کوچه‌ی پشتی عبور می‌دهد

با لباسی از غبار

و کوله‌ای از نقاشی‌های نیمه‌کاره.

گاریِ زنگ‌زده‌ی سرِ کوچه

صدای رفت‌و‌آمدِ روزهای بی‌نام را حمل می‌کند،

و باد، بوی پچ‌پچِ عابران را

در جیبِ باران پنهان کرده است.

من، با دستی

که شاید از آنِ من نباشد،

تصویرِ موشک‌ها را در قهوه‌ام هم می‌زنم.

تهِ فنجان،

جهانِ ذله از سیاست

کاسه‌ی "چه کنم" را

پُر و خالی می‌کند.

و آنگاه که

هیچ چیز تمام نمی‌شود،

فقط

شکلِ ماندن‌ها عوض می‌شود.

شیرین جبل عاملی

۲۱ مهر ۱۴۰۴

Shirin Jabalameli is an Iranian poet, painter, photographer, and writer. She has authored Crows Rarely Laugh, Apranik, and 101 Moments. Her latest illustrated poetry collection, 25 Fell from the Frame, was recently published. Her poems have appeared in international journals including Braided Way Magazine (USA), The Lake (UK), The New Verse News (USA), and Poetry Super Highway (USA), where she was selected as Poet of the Week.

NOTHING

by Lynn White

ABC (Australia), August 27, 2024

In those streets

of men and boys,

in that country 

for men and boys,

she feels like a person with no face,

her face space covered,

her identity occupied

by a swirling mist of confusion

like nothingness being born.

Sometimes 

she wishes for a blank space

that she could fill herself

with a Magritte apple

or even a woman

even herself

un-blanked

and visible.

Now, in those streets

of men and boys,

in that country 

for men and boys,

she feels like a person with no voice,

Magritte’s apple is choking her,

muting her

so even in her home she whispers

her songs and curses.

Only in her head does she shout

that something will come of nothing,

that something must come of nothing.

Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality and writes hoping to find an audience for her musings. She was shortlisted in the Theatre Cloud 'War Poetry for Today' competition and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net and a Rhysling Award. Her poetry has appeared in many publications including: Apogee, Firewords, Peach Velvet, Light Journal, and So It Goes.

WHEN PROTESTS COME TO THE UPPER EAST SIDE

by George Salamon





“In a reflection of how American cities have changed since the 1960s, demonstrations have included many wealthy areas.” —The New York Times, June 2, 2020


High-towered days in Manhattan
Crumble into ruins, while the silk
Curtains in the million-dollar condos
Whisper of murder and the owners
Wander restlessly through the rooms,
Hearing whispers of the tired old black
Men who served drinks in the rooftop
Bar, their eyes speaking of hardscrabble
Lives and the parents retreated to their
Children's bedrooms and read to them
From brightly-colored picture books of
America's fairy tales that once upon
A time bewitched them.


George Salamon lives and writes in St. Louis, MO and has most recently contributed to The Asses of Parnassus, Dissident Voice, and TheNewVerse.News.