Crocuta crocuta. A Poem by Robin Ouzman Hislop


The Spotted Hyena, aka the Laughing Hyena, both male and female genitals are strikingly similar.
Natural History, Pliny the Elder (A.D. 23-79) ab uno animali sepulchra erui inquisitione corporum.
It was more Jackals that were prone to digging bodies out of shallow graves and eating them. Robert Graves.White Goddess. The Jackals, sacred to Anubis, Guardian of the Dead, because they fed on corpse like flesh and had mysterious nocturnal habits.
The Hyena is of feline descent.
Hyenas were hermaphrodites, bearing both male and female organs, Aristotle declared in the Historia animalium: “this is untrue.”
Medieval bestiaries drew a moral lesson from the depravity of beasts, excluded from Noah’s ark in 1614, God had only saved the purely bred, Hyenas were reconstituted after the flood through the unnatural union of a dog and cat.
Female hyenas virtually indistinguishable from males, their clitoris enlarged and extended to form an organ of the same size, shape, and position as the male penis, can also be erected.
High foetal androgen levels responsible for male sexual facies in adult female Spotted Hyenas.
An unfair stereotype of Hyenas, in reality fascinating, intelligent even beautiful creatures.
Disney animators sketches for The Lion King, the trio of Hyenas in the Movie reinforce the common stereotype of Hyenas as cowardly, skulking low-lifes.
Ernest Hemingway, Fisi, the Hyena, hermaphroditic self-eating devourer of the dead, trailer of calving cows, ham-stringer, potential biter-off of your face at night while you slept, sad yowler, camp-follower, stinking, foul, with jaws that crack the bones the lion leaves, belly dragging, loping away on the brown plain.
“Hyenas” Movie, an urban legend account of human encounters and attacks by a sub-culture of predatory Cryptohuman Hyenas. Shape-shifting human-like creatures prowl the rural back roads and forests of North America, thought to exist by Cryptozoologists.
Folklore and sightings persist even as mainstream science denies their existence.
Rudyard Kipling, The wise Hyenas come out at eve to take account of our dead,… they know the dead are safer meat than the weakest thing alive… and tug the corpse to light, the pitiful face is shown again, an instant ere they close in.
UK Teaching. Resources TES. Edwin Morgan enters the mind of the Hyena. English National 5 Poetry. He describes its patient, menacing personality: Morgan adopts the persona of a Hyena, I sing and am the slave of darkness, my place is to pick you clean and leave your bones to the wind.
A hunters’ poem from Lesotho, description shifts to the first person singular to give the Hyena’s own words, I growl being a poor body, I am small, I am hunched up like the elephant… Hyena of the Mmankala of Kone-land, a group whose symbol is the Hyena, when it says ngou! it devours even man.
A Yoruba hunting poem the Hyena is regarded as the ultimate scavenger, there being nothing it won’t eat: oral poetry from Africa, Hyena, who is there when the mourner buries the corpse eats fat and bone, scabbard and hide.
Spotted Hyena, strongest jaws in proportion to body size across the entire mammal kingdom, cunning hunting tactics, nocturnal nature, nefarious reputations, frontal cortex of their brains, thought to regulate social intelligence.
The largest of the other three species: Brown, Striped and Aardwolf, Spotted Hyenas are among Africa’s most vocal animals.

Robin Portrait July Sotillo 2016 by Amparo
Robin Ouzman Hislop, born UK, a reader in philosophy & religions, has travelled extensively throughout his lifetime but now lives in semi- retirement as a TEFL teacher and translator in Spain & the UK.
Robin was editor of the 12 year running on-line monthly poetry journal Poetry Life and Times. In 2013 he joined with Dave Jackson as co-editor at, where he presently edits Poetry Life & Times,,
He’s been previously published in a variety of international magazines, later publications including Voices without Borders Volume 1 (USA), Cold Mountain Review (Appalachian University, N. Carolina), The Poetic Bond Volumes ( and Phoenix Rising from the Ashes (a recently published international Anthology of Sonnets). His last publication is a volume of collected poems All the Babble of the Souk available at all main online tributaries Ouzman Hislop All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop the Babble of the Souk

Shine. A Poem by Irsa Ruçi Translated by Silva Daci


Hear to the cicada’s song, my dear, hear it
Some words they mutter to spring
And feel their whisper to the leafs
To the mornings’ dew
So tell me:
Was this world made to be savage?

Oh, what sins did we give to this earth
So that our own tear weighs in powerless
At traces that froze in oblivion
The lost sinner
Guardians of Hope

One day we will get away
In a path there’s no coming back
For sure I’ll carry behind only regret,
Why we weren’t enough in this greedy world?
And the forgiveness
We were eager to get it
When one day even our soul we’ll see it
Stripped from our bodies.

O tell me that nothing is true
That the poet’s words are thatch stalks
That would be fired by one single match
And I, my last line I’ll give to the Human;
For he prays in the sin’s mercy
And in his life never lied to himself
My last line I’ll save it for the Human…

My photo 2

Irsa Ruçi is an Albanian Writer, Speechwriter and Lecturer. She was born in Tirana (Albania), in 1990. Her books of poetry include Trokas mbi ajër (poems and essays), 2008 and Pështjellim (poetry), 2010.
She has been published in anthologies: Antologji, 2007; I kërkoj agimit vesën, 2008; Antologji poetike “Kushtuar dashurisë”, 2014; Antologji poetike “Udha”, 2014; Antologji poetike, 2014; “Malli dhe brenga nga distancat”, 2014; Antologji poetike “Qyteti”, 2014; Poeteca, 2015; and her works has appeared in a number of print and online national and international magazines, including Sling Magazine, Issue 5; Ann Arbor Review, Issue 15; Poeteca Magazine, Issue 35; Aquillrelle Anthology, 2015; Aquillrelle Anthology, 2016; Metaphor Magazine Issue 5; The Commonline Journal, Issue 4/22; A New Ulster poetry Anthology, April 2016; Best Poems Encyclopedia; Issuu April 2016; In Between Hangovers, May 2016; BLUEPEPPER, May 2016; Duane’s PoeTree, May 2016; CREATIVE TALENTS UNLEASHED, 8 May 2016, Tuck Magazine, 12 May 2016; Whispers… 2016; Dead Snakes Magazine; – RANDOM POEM TREE, 13 May 2016; RANDOM POEM TREE, 16 May 2016; In Between Hangovers, 14 May 2016; In Between Hangovers, 24 May 2016; SCARLET LEAF REVIEW, May Issue; Ashvamegh Magazine (Ashvamegh Indian Journal of English Literature), The Beatnik Cowboy, 19 May; Dissident Voice, 22 May; Joomag, May 2016; Bear Creek Haiku, May Issue; Dissident Voice, 29 May  etc.
Among many awards, she has received the first prize in poetry, in competition “Anthology 2007”, as the best poet in Albania.


Silva Daci foto

Silva Daci was born in Tirana (Albania), in 1996. She is student of English Major, at the Faculty of Foreign Languages, in the University of Tirana. She is an activist in some social cooperatives and she likes to be part of social and cultural activities. Ouzman Hislop All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop the Babble of the Souk

CHILDLESS. A Poem by John Grey

What’s her name again – Deirdre Lyn.
She goes to law school. She plays field hockey
Summers spark with
the sheer will of her being.
Septembers are softer now
than a head on a pillow.
But then I feel your stomach
and you shake your head.
A tear emerges from your right eye,
the closest your body ever comes
to giving birth.
So I must watch over her
with my eyes shut.
Nail my lips together
to encourage her dreams.
Squeeze her to my chest
until she’s thinner than
the shirt I wear.
Deirdre Lyn – she comes to me in a dream
and says she’s met someone.
Yes, she met me.
And no one else ever.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, South Carolina Review, Gargoyle and Big Muddy Review with work upcoming in Louisiana Review, Cape Rock and Spoon River Poetry Review. To view more of his work & Ouzman Hislop All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop the Babble of the Souk

DAMP. (a poem after the rains) by Akor Emmanuel Oche


After the rains
come the drain of a white washed
of pungent oozing paths.
Cossy skins blended
in tar pigmented melanin,
mock the innerbeing,
telling her she is wet,
telling her she is clean.
Only fire tests the truth of things.
Soon the road evapourates
the reminants of her hidden self,
and the skin
whispers the truth
of its self- dark,dirty,blue-
-in avarice for the subtle touch of water,
to purly through the body through
to the spirit.
After the rains come the real water.
Spinning the soul in spree.

Akor Emmanuel Ochen

Akor Emmanuel Oche is a Nigerian poet,critic,essayist and thinker.
Connect with him on facebook by searching his account by his name. Ouzman Hislop All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop the Babble of the Souk

Class Struggle. A Poem by Goirick Brahmachari


Only in Shillong
you get a hot plate of momo
served with onions and chilies.
I don’t care if they are not
hip enough to be offered
at Hauz Khas Village – where the plastic hippie movement
found a new mecca, few years ago.
Even rickshaw drivers adore that apple pie at German bakery.
For it is like dal chawal for them by now.
They eat it almost every day
here at old Manali.
Now in smoky stores of incense sticks
and herbal soaps at Mcleod
where aunties get away
stealing, shop lifting karma
only to be caught many years later
in a strange fight at a metro station
for eating three burgers inside the train
or in an Israeli joint at Kasol that sells pot
and sometimes pizzas to middle class families.
No branded food to pacify elite souls.
No class pride hurled onto us
No black cat to scan through the moral lens
All we are looking for is some good hot food
and a good night’s sleep.

Goirick Brahmachari lives in New Delhi, India. He hails from Silchar, Assam. His poems have appeared in various Indian and international magazines. Further reading of his work can be found at & Ouzman Hislop All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop the Babble of the Souk

The Sudden Drizzle. A Poem by Bhupender K Bhardwaj


The sudden drizzle that brought long-sought fulfillment
To the scorched shacks of the country masses
Knitted the serrated peak and the neglected pavement
Into an aquamarine fabric under whose grace wild asses
Brayed with glee. The rusted generator attached
To the cola factory hummed loudly and brought
Back memories of the dull headaches which once latched
On to you. But these were phantoms of imagination which caught
You unawares, lost in the coerced stillness induced by your drab work
That ate you up slowly, constricting your vision
Beyond which strong-legged peacocks continued to jerk
Their crested heads in unison with the swaying trees that season.
Later, the sparrow-squeaks and the marketplace shouts
Which came up the verges were glinting arrows that quelled your doubts.

Brief Bio: Bhupender K Bhardwaj, an IRTS officer, 27 years of age works with Ministry of Railways, Government of India. He has been composing poetry since the last few years. His influences are Derek Walcott and Seamus Heaney. His poems have been published by Mad Swirl, Indian Review, The Galway Review and Kingston Creative Writers’ Blog. Also, He was recently longlisted for The Toto Awards for Creative Writing 2016 in the Poetry category. Ouzman Hislop All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop the Babble of the Souk

LIES AND RETRACTIONS. A Poem by David Spicer


Norway is cold to any sentient tramp
or a chorus of hyenas that yawn
and sneeze around a chicken house
stinking of ghosts and rotten
pomegranates. Its windmills are beautiful
in the pastures, but I need a zippered
leather coat to cover the skylark tattooed
on my chest. I couldn’t invent this:
I have poor posture from shaking,
my body needs a sunlamp. No, I retract
the above lies that aren’t worth two euros.
I’d fly pennants and banners
for the frigid land. Or release balloons
into the happy sky. I love the fish,
blown glass, and police who don’t
surround or harass me. Plenty of shade
to sip chardonnay by, and next summer,
when warmer weather tricks this cancer
to die, I’ll toot my own horn again
and teach Tolstoy to the children.


David Spicer has had poems in Yellow Mama, Reed Magazine, Slim Volume, The Laughing Dog, Jersey Devil Press, The American Poetry Review, New Verse News, Ploughshares, Bad Acid Laboratories, Inc., Dead Snakes, and in A Galaxy of Starfish: An Anthology of Modern Surrealism (Salo Press, 2016). He has been nominated for a Pushcart, is the author of one full-length collection of poems and four chapbooks, and is the former editor of Raccoon, Outlaw, and Ion Books. He lives in Memphis, Tennessee.
For futher views of his works see & Ouzman Hislop All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop the Babble of the Souk

Counter-factual History Poetry by Christopher Barnes

See-Saw Then Reel
A fault-line deforms the lark’s sunrise.
Frisco unpents itself, shop-soiling a minute.
Gloating flames cackle for days.
Survivor tents fidget on city-plan lawns.
In a leap-the-queue food line
Kermit the frog recovered his whereabouts
At the brink of intact terrain.
Flash Gear
Foot-long tresses, plum and tangerine blouse,
Ink-smudge breeks – Admiral Horatio Nelson struts.
Carnaby St. is a kinetic three blocks.
In Lord John’s portal he rib-digs Joe,
Land-pirate to a clutter of pharmacies,
Shopping list: four honeypots – French Blues.
Currency for peacocks is revels or frills.
Hereafter Chimneys
Reactors superheat uranium,
Hatching plutonium – a fume,
Radioactive cast-off.
Julius Caesar grits teeth,
Ashens at Windscale’s pockmarks
On a thickset graphite shell.
Blue-bag flames peck
At a moody critical mass.
Blood-Stained Pillow
Anne Boleyn disentangles prompts
On the Washeteria’s speech bubbles.
Self-run gearing is eco-affirmative.
Her duvet and pillows outline jauntiness
Quickened by a hyperallergic gargle,
Phosphate deficient.
The dizzy-bouquet whiff
Spins and hour into memory.
Lour In Popping Eyes
Dressed-to-the-nines rose-fresh theatre.
Jedward cradle themselves
In a pomp-splash box.
The snorty edge flurries this raised curtain.
‘Rites Of Spring,’ blurts gabbley lips.
The twins dislocate nerves.
Bob-up canes, set-against fans in an uproar.
christopher barnes photo 3
Some bio details…
In 1998 I won a Northern Arts writers award. In July 200 I read at Waterstones bookshop to promote the anthology ‘Titles Are Bitches’. Christmas 2001 I debuted at Newcastle’s famous Morden Tower doing a reading of my poems. Each year I read for Proudwords lesbian and gay writing festival and I partook in workshops. 2005 saw the publication of my collection LOVEBITES published by Chanticleer Press, 6/1 Jamaica Mews, Edinburgh.
On Saturday 16Th August 2003 I read at the Edinburgh Festival as a Per Verse poet at LGBT Centre, Broughton St.
I also have a BBC web-page and (if first site does not work click on SECTION 28 on second site.
Christmas 2001 The Northern Cultural Skills Partnership sponsored me to be mentored by Andy Croft in conjunction with New Writing North. I made a radio programme for Web FM community radio about my writing group. October-November 2005, I entered a poem/visual image into the art exhibition The Art Cafe Project, his piece Post-Mark was shown in Betty’s Newcastle. This event was sponsored by Pride On The Tyne. I made a digital film with artists Kate Sweeney and Julie Ballands at a film making workshop called Out Of The Picture which was shown at the festival party for Proudwords, it contains my poem The Old Heave-Ho. I worked on a collaborative art and literature project called How Gay Are Your Genes, facilitated by Lisa Mathews (poet) which exhibited at The Hatton Gallery, Newcastle University, including a film piece by the artist Predrag Pajdic in which I read my poem On Brenkley St. The event was funded by The Policy, Ethics and Life Sciences Research Institute, Bio-science Centre at Newcastle’s Centre for Life. I was involved in the Five Arts Cities poetry postcard event which exhibited at The Seven Stories children’s literature building. In May I had 2006 a solo art/poetry exhibition at The People’s Theatre why not take a look at their website
The South Bank Centre in London recorded my poem “The Holiday I Never Had”; I can be heard reading it on
REVIEWS: I have written poetry reviews for Poetry Scotland and Jacket Magazine and in August 2007 I made a film called ‘A Blank Screen, 60 seconds, 1 shot’ for Queerbeats Festival at The Star & Shadow Cinema Newcastle, reviewing a poem…see On September 4 2010, I read at the Callander Poetry Weekend hosted by Poetry Scotland. I have also written Art Criticism for Peel and Combustus Magazines. I was involved in The Creative Engagement In Research Programme Research Constellation exhibitions of writing and photography which showed in London (march 13 2012) and Edinburgh (July 4 2013) see . I co-edit the poetry magazine Interpoetry Ouzman Hislop All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop the Babble of the Souk