INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Deji Adesoye
Changming Yuan
Violeta Allmuca
Beppe Costa
Engjell I. Berisha
Narendra Kumar Arya
Akwu Sunday Victor
Michelle Bailat-Jones
Laszlo Slomovits
Stefania Battistella
Agron Shele
Lana Bella
Fahredin Shehu
Alan Britt
Silvia Scheibli
Shutta Crum
Running Cub
Alex Ferde
Irsa Ruci
Jennifer Burd
Paul B. Roth
Richard Gartee
Elisavietta Ritchie
Peycho Kanev
Helen Gyigya
Amit Parmessur
Sneha Subramanian Kanta
Robert Nisbet
Jeton Kelmendi
Duane Locke
Richard Lynch
Jean McNerney
Fred Wolven
Ann Arbor Review
is an independent
International Journal & ezine
Copyright (c) 2017
Francis Ferde
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
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AAR history note: in print 1967 - 1980. Irregular publications 1980 - 2004. As ezine 2004 - present. Most of 48 years all together....
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staff:
Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven
Submissions via e-mail:
The Time Over The Sweetness Path:
THE AGE OF FLOWERS
She will never come
With another face
She will never turn
A cradle and a tomb in a place
Although its roots are soft
As it seems to be
An artery of water
When I return from travel
One time one another one myself
And a few shrinking signs
She is as pretty as
She will never turn rotten
In her white
Or yellow petals
Who mentioned like him
That time is immeasurable with the
Mechanical machine
How much was needed to an age
And await the raising of a memorial
What a repetition is this
Tied the same as the pain that has never ended
YOU RETURN AFTER A THOUSAND YEARS
If in the roads of sweetness
From the straws of Kumtris
Turning back after a thousand years
With the flying car
You are young and we above the soil
In our skulls to bring out with roots altogether
The flowers of memories
That can be read
Just as Mozart’s notes
In the partiture lost times ago
What is the value of return when is awaiting
What you have never perceived
In your travels of Oddiseus
Towards the dark horizon in the sky
That overpasses the unkown worlds
Takes your flying machine
With the light of mind
That is not born
THE ROAD OF THE SWEET
Those who say
For the regions of imaginations
With their eyes have not seen anything else
More than my mind here below
I cannot come down with my feet
Up to the intersection of the square
The path of the sweet
Here I am writing
Just as Galileo once wrote
GOLDEN FISH
Alive is temporary
With a last name illusion just as value
Crumbles eat like a dust
And who knows
A sea Star
Is it a lively decorative item
Don’t know what the true depth means
Neither balance
Brother, its reason
Can’t leave my house alone
Will steal my gold my soul will get lost
Where he dies without me
From solitude
Engjell I. Berisha, Prishtina, Kosovo
Translator (from Albanian): Peter M. Tase, Milwaukee, Wisconsin