Ibex Press Year's Best Magazine

Bonus poems forthis issue

2005-03-04T23:31:00.000-08:00

For our faithful readers I have posted two new poems as a bonus for this issue. One is from the acclaimed poet Maria Cristina and the other from an upcoming, but very talented young man,Carlos.

Peace Universe
by Maria Cristina Azcona

There is a place not so far away
Where bees surround the children’s play
And give sweet honey to them each day

There is a pond where the moon gazes
To her two opposite rounded faces
Dark and light one, distant from races

(In this magnificent dream
There’s only one team
And poetry always wins).

There is a unique voice to converse
Around this global universe
And it’s just to say it in verse

Let us be kinder to each other
And not be tempted to bother
The joyfulness of our brother.

And let us arrive to a new quality
Through education in morality
Where differences are in equality

Crying minds.
By Carlos Ignacio Bover

Mankind tracking mankind’s paths;

Smoothing steps on soothing ways.

Relieving pain from conscience’s guilt

Demanding faith to bow at hilt.

Its human’s night dismissing light.

The so called knights! Though no-one fight...

For as they long for fair sleep

Neglect the way, and then they slip.

Starving famine not for loaf;

Crying minds for ancient oaths.

Empty cheering, conceited toasts

While others lack what matters most.

Nonchalant hosts of blinds appal

Contemptuous stare at what is fair.

And shall they never know

Why of peace they are bare

Nor that they continuously fall

At a hunter’s snare?

Welcome to Issue One

2005-01-23T01:59:00.000-08:00

Dear poets and poetry lovers

The first issue of this magazine features fine poetry from writers all over the world. From writers of all age groups. Some of them are seasoned writers who have won many accolades in the recent times, while some are budding poets making a bold statement about their creative abilities.

They have been selected for their sensitive portrayal of human emotions and the powerful acknowledgment of the strength of art in revealing the nature of life itself. I am quite sure you will enjoy these literary creations and experience the magic of poetry through our small but significant enterprise.

With regards

The Editor

Ibex Press

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Submission Guidelines for Issue 2, Contributor bios etc.

2005-01-23T01:38:00.000-08:00

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Donate to our chosen charity through the main website...
And don't forget to buy our poetry titles.

Umar Nizarudeen

2005-01-23T01:33:00.000-08:00

Memory

Memory often misinterprets
Itself
As something solid
Stored in the brain
Connected together
By a vague sense
Of history and time,
Till the day
Your memory loses its way.
Then it comes back
Gathers its belongings
And deserts you.

Poem (c) Umar Nizarudeen 2005. All rights reserved.

Bhuwan Thapaliya

2005-01-23T01:31:00.000-08:00

Grandeur Of Poetry

It takes tons of time to compose an ounce of poetry
But when it is composed it surpasses the eternity
Its connotation like the four seasons of the earth
May change from time to time, its authenticity
Like the existence of the deity will be questioned
From time to time, its manifestation like the
Symphony of clouds will be misunderstood from
Time to time, but its universal consensus
Like the perpetual soul, will forever live on,
And its grandeur, like the countenance of the sun
Will forever shine on…will forever shine on.

Make love to me

Carry me to the garden, not with your
Arms but with your heart, fondle me
Not with your lips but with your soul
Undress me not, but peel me naked, and
Make love to me, beneath the lusty sky
In the full moon night, under the silhouette
Of the twinkling stars, and not in the caged
Confines of the wall, for I yearn to have
An orgasm right beneath the heavens eye
And stir the heart of the deities, with the
Lascivious indulgence of an earthly love
That is here today but tomorrow will be gone

Poems (c) Bhuwan Thapaliya 2005. All rights reserved.

Jaimie Dix

2005-01-23T01:30:00.000-08:00

Fear

Sometimes I can’t sleep,
I can’t even close my eyes.
I’d like to call you, to hear your voice
But I don’t have the energy to move, to eat, to breathe.
My stomach’s always in knots, my head is always aching.
At night like this, my skin is sensitive
And I can feel the blood pulsing in my veins.
I want to see it flow. I want to feel its warmth.
I close the door and I’m safe by the click of the lock.
I hear nothing. I see nothing. I feel only fear,
The fear of wanting and the fear of not getting.
I scare myself with how much I want it.
I don’t want to feel like this
But I can’t stand this feeling of hopelessness.
I feel the sting and I tear up.
But I won’t cry. I can’t break down now.
I see the blissful crimson glow of life and am relieved.
The fear, the sorrow, the hatred . . .
It’s all gone. I feel only the sting of heartache
And I long only to call you.

A Bad Good Bye

When you and I depart,
All that’s left is a broken heart.
How do mend these times?
With only these rhymes?

Tell me what I need to hear
But don’t poison my ears
With words filled with hate.
I know I was late.
Please, forgive me
And stay here. Don’t leave me.

You won’t change your mind.
From tears, I am blind.
“I’ll miss you,” I say.
“Until we meet again. Someday.”

You leave.
I scream.

Poems (c) Jaimie Dix 2005. All rights reserved.

Saurabh Niranjan Turakhia

2005-01-23T01:27:00.000-08:00

If Not!!!

If not a piece of paper,
Then spread your hearts,
Mesmerising verses, for me, to engrave!!!!!

If not the sunlight,
Then offer me the bright moonlight,
Youthful lines, for me to write!!!!!

If not a drawing sheet,
Then offer me the sky’s canvas,
Shades of sunset awesome, to showcase!!!!

If not blooming roses,
Then give me smiling lilies,
For me to get inspired!!!!

If not the elusive fairy,
Then let me view the navigating butterfly,
Prompting me to pen its relationship with the flower!!

If not a reader eye,
Then let an inspired heart read,
This poetic piece, I plead!!!!!

Poem (c) Saurabh Niranjan Turakhia 2005. All rights reserved.

Maria Cristina Azcona

2005-01-23T01:24:00.000-08:00

SWAN

Plenty of daisies, a dark green pool waits.
The night falls, its gown falls.
The swan makes inaudible sounds,
Its neck elongates and swims towards the bridge, aside.

Plenty of time in the moonlight, silence…
Someone is coming towards the pool, in silence…

The swan escapes, its legs against the water.
My hand touches the obscurity.
I can breathe my insecurity.
I exhale my own spirit.
A shadow breaks the air and falls to the pool.
The daisies encircling the abysm
I am the only one to rescue the night from the cataclysm.

Poems (c) Maria Cristina Azcona 2005. All Rights Reserved

Featured poet :: Dorin Popa

2005-01-23T01:16:00.000-08:00

NO WAY BACK
sweet and spacious are all
before they jump
on your back,
full is the breast while
you can see it full
and silvery are the paths
until you take
the first move

sweet and spacious are all
as long as you think
you can still come back

LOST ON THE WAY

if only just a little weaker had I been
I would have had my way

if only just a little stronger had I been
I would have passed away

meeting you
I only started doubting
your existence

WHEN YOU HAVE NOTHING MORE TO OFFER

someone is ringing
but no one answers

nothing can be bound
nothing can be shaped
nothing can keep you
nothing can stop you

you would go out
and climb the statue in the central square
and speak to people
- what can you tell them
what else can you tell them ? -

towards evening, calm,
you lose yourself in the crowd
you do not walk, you just slide
you let yourself pushed, shoved aside
you do not care for anything anymore

anyway,
before it had time to unfold
your life was gone

the curtain ! the curtain !

AN ATTEMPT TO INTRODUCE MYSELF

when you lean
over me
who do you lean on
and when you wait for me
for such a long while,
when you wait for me,
like that,
with a kind of deserted hope,
who do you wait for ?

POETRY, IN DECEMBER

much more depressing is the world in December
suicide is walking around
much, much more aggressively ...

if I get rid of this winter
and of this illness
and of this death,
I know for sure that when summer comes
I shall be longing for
December

YOUR TEARS OF THOSE DAYS

misshaped, rumpled,
memories put on a new apparel
each season

but, as years pass by,
I remember everything
more and more clearly

I could even touch now
your tears of those days

FEVERISH PREPARATIONS
FOR JOURNEY

today, well locked up in myself
I might leave for a deep journey

I know I need a lot of things
but first let me close the window
carefully,
close the drawers, stop the music
and slowly close my eyes

today I think I shall go far,
far away,

there’s a favourable wind blowing
from my memories

SOLANGE

she lit my way
when, eyes tightly closed,
I was in fear looking for a place
To rest my eyes

again she told me
when I lay obediently down on the rails
that only after my hopes
had been poisoned
could I start hoping again

she is my mother and my daughter
- limit and infinity -
she hasn’ t yet been shown to me

her story is by no one told
her story is by no one written
I knew entirely her tale
even before I came out here.

SUDDENLY THE INFINITE ALLOWS US
TO FEEL IT

between me and the one who could love you
sometimes God shows Himself
together with strange things
that darken the world’ s face

between me and the one who towards you is running
there are so many things that stay still,
foreboding ...

( fog clims and descends
- I do not want to touch
what I can hardly see ! )

between us, the dead and the living
together are rejoicing
the world is waiting, again,
to start

between me and the one who could have loved you
you can hardly step further,
you can hardly breathe
and you have such a beautiful face
of the past

GROPING ABOUT IN AUTUMN, AS EVER

It was as if I had come out from an underground tunnel
while autumn flowers left coard for me
I don’t know why, but when it is autumn I remember you
and my uncertain steps seem, suddenly, to have a meaning

far far away a song is heard
that I once used to whisper :
“autumn, autumn, why do you change
so deeply
your slave’ s paths ...”

look, peaceful now, I become confident
and I raise hesitation to the rank
of ruling principle of the world

you are near,
you hold my hand,
even if you are so silent,
even if you don’ t exist ...

why ever do you change so deeply
your slave’s paths ?

AGAIN AND AGAIN SOMETHING ELSE

again and again, something else
seems to be more important
than my life

those failed meetings with myself
are as many regrets
as many euphorias for me
and, death in my arms
far away my death
must be from me

more and more something else seizes me,
rolls me up, loses me
again and again I keep turning myself into
something else

so, whatever most profound in this world
seems of another world to come

IT’ S BETTER THAT YOU ARE AWAY

it’ s better that you are away
I haven’ t written to you and I won’ t ever do
the medicines that you have sent me
I have given them away at once for a cigar,

sometimes I do remember you
in unexpected moments
sometimes, indeed, I laugh all by myself
as I walk down the road
sometimes I feel I could even touch you

it is all right that you are far away
it is all right to have no one to confess to
- it has, anyway, become a little irritating
to tell you everything -

I sometimes do believe
countless contrary things about you
and every single thing reminds me of you
I do have any memory I wish about you
and more and more
I am ashamed of you

indeed, indeed, it’ s all right that you left me
ever since I was born.

THE CROWN OF THORNS

I love the fissures of my soul
against which I rebel so much

to a never heard tune,
on life and death,
I passionately dance.

MY DISEQUILIBRIUM SUPPORTS
THE PRECARIOUS EQUILIBRIUM OF THE WORLD

again I had a dream that,
on the brink of happiness,
I took my days
and
sadder than ever
in my life,
again
I went down

more and more often
I choose to walk
through the ruins of my soul
and I always take along
your small bottle of perfume

of course
I step politely back
from all
the others

and thus, stumblingly,
I still believe
that one day
I will know how to serve You

Allpoems (c)Dorin Popa 2005. All rights reserved.