Announcing that contributor Michael Steffen has a new book out, I Saw My Life.

About I Saw My Life: From the saying “I saw my life flash before my eyes”, the book’s title announces thresholds, things and moments of arrest and luminosity, resplendent, but also shocking as a near-death experience might be, and fleeting as any flash may be. The stars in their constellations at night glimpsed up through leaves of a tree, the drama of a scull tipped in a powerful mid-river current, a woven shopping handbag, such objects in their places and handling evoke the weights and sensations revisiting the body in reflective memory, at the heart of poetry’s deeply personal yet widely shared and recognized expressions.

It’s available for review from Lily Poetry Review’s press.

This month’s issue rides high on a wave, surging towards us with a theme of Fluidity.

Some contributors literally speak of water. Eva Lianou Petropoulou personifies the creatures of the sea as she calls for an end to litter and pollution. Xoʻjyozova Dildora discusses environmental damage to the Aral Sea and efforts to restore the ecosystem. Elaine Murray celebrates the wonder of the ocean, wishing to become a mermaid. Brian Barbeito recollects being stung by a jellyfish, resting, and turning out okay in time, comforted by natural and literary beauty. Later, he celebrates the seafaring-inspired writing of Joseph Conrad.

Others address different aspects of life that can feel fluid, such as light and vast open landscapes. Juan Vadillo’s review describes Beatriz Saavedra Gastélum’s poetry collection, “Lucid Breath of Light,” as a journey exploring light in its various forms, memories, and transformations. Mesfakus Salahin immerses himself into nature and creativity. Stephen Jarrell Williams’ serene piece evokes a feeling of gentle tranquility. JoyAnne O’Donnell meditates on a pleasant afternoon outside in a meadow. Sheikha A.’s short, lyrical pieces use vivid imagery and concise language to evoke a range of natural and serene scenes. Sayani Mukherjee celebrates the beauty and splendor of an outdoor festival. Yee Leonsoo’s poems use extreme natural places (a salt desert and a deep-sea sinkhole) to explore identity, memory, and the feeling of in-between-ness. Mark Young’s geographies creatively mutate random regions of Australia into works of art.

We can also perceive time as more fluid than linear. Chuck Taylor explores the idea of the “now” and how it can be captured in words, considering the brief moments between perception and recording. Barbaros İrdelmen’s pieces intertwine ordinary images with themes of love and loss to explore how human connection, memory, and longing persist within and against time’s flow. Kareem Abdullah speaks of love, longing, and memory. Mustafa Abdulmalek Al-Sumaidi reminds us that we are all mortal. Abdel Iatif Moubarak renders up a tale of a singer’s faded glory still piercing the darkness of night.

One’s personality and attitudes also morph and shift over the years. Sevara Matnazarova outlines how her personality and outlook on life changed as she grew older. Susie Gharib’s work addresses authenticity, self-expression, and a desire for a more compassionate and peaceful existence. John Grey’s work explores vulnerability and resilience within the human (and natural) experience. Elisa Mascia’s pieces draw upon changeable natural phenomena such as wind and butterflies to dramatize introspective and emotive explorations of love, loss, and transformation. Yeon Myung-ji’s poem uses the act of shelling beans as a rich metaphor for introspection, resilience, and the quiet, often overlooked, processes of life and growth. Duane Vorhees’ poems explore themes of love, identity, and transformation, often blurring the lines between reality and fantasy. Nattie O’ Sheggzy delves into the complexities of simple things and searches for meaning, beauty, and authenticity in a chaotic and often dissonant world.

A whole set of poems by Niall McGrath explore themes of memory, identity, social commentary, and personal struggle, often set against the backdrop of Northern Ireland. Poet Michael Todd Steffen, interviewed by Cristina Deptula about his new book I Saw My Life, explores the intersection of personal and historical memories, identity, and mortality, aiming to inspire reflection, acceptance, and a deeper appreciation for the world around us. Lan Xin highlights how holding space for wonder and gratitude can enhance our daily lives. Kandy Fontaine’s piece mixes theater and prose, celebrating artist Tricia Warden and the intersection of art, literature, and identity, particularly in the context of feminist and queer perspectives.  Christopher Bernard kicks off the next installment of his children’s story Otherwise, a mixture of cultural thought, suspense and middle-grade energy. Tanja Vučićević describes a personal journey, both physically and emotionally, as they navigate through challenges and seek solace and salvation.

Writing can play a part in personal reflection and development. J.J. Campbell uses poetry to process his own experiences and emotions and to comment on the human condition. Yongbo Ma’s poems are reflective and introspective, exploring themes of isolation, disconnection, and the search for meaning. Manik Chakraborty wakes us up with the graceful hope of a new morning and continues to seek artistic inspiration despite abandonment from a muse. Ryan Quinn Flanagan probes ordinary life with a poet’s eye, considering the significance of even mundane objects. Jacques Fleury uses rich imagery and references to mythology and literature to highlight the owl’s dualistic nature, embodying both positive and foreboding qualities. Ananya Guha creates a place where a moment of fear and the stories told about it later blend together into a lasting personal myth, half memory, half ghost story. High school English student Reilley Andre expresses a mature perspective on life, pointing out how different people see matters from various points of view, expressing grief, and showing gratitude for his caring sister.

Some love can remain steady amid the flow of time. Gulsanam Mamasiddiqova offers up words of respect and love for her father. Mubina Botirova expresses her love and gratitude for her mother. Tursunova Mehrinoz Oybek qizi pays respect to her mother’s dedication and kindness. Gulchiroy Axmedova expresses tender sentiments of motherly care. Afrose S. celebrates childhood and urges people to protect children. Prasanna Kumar Dalai evokes the tenderness and fragility of early love. Anwer Ghani depicts a steady, tender, and elegant love. Anindya Paul speaks to a profound and intimate romantic devotion that lingers after death. Daniela Chourio-Soto expresses nostalgia through the means of scent. Yongbo Ma’s playful work also encompasses themes of love and human romantic connection.

Of course, not all love stories end happily, and loss is a part of the human condition. Leon Drake’s poems of heavy nostalgia mourn words left unspoken and relationships left unexplored. Donna Dallas speaks of trauma, monstrosity, addiction, and toxic relationships. Kassandra Aguilera’s fragmented poem explores the intoxicating and often painful dynamics of infatuation. On a broader scale, Milena Pčinjski laments the weight of a troubled world, all that could be and all that will never be. Yet, vulnerability is not necessarily weakness, but a prerequisite for change and growth.

Love and caring can also encompass more than one’s own inner circle. Several contributors discuss the fluid state of societal and international relations and advocate for peace and justice. Alan Catlin’s work highlights the human cost of war and its echoes in art and the human soul. Abigail George’s melancholic, reflective poems mourn destruction in Gaza and a personal loss. Shlok Pandey’s fictional story is a poignant portrayal of the human experience during wartime. David Kokoette describes age-old power dynamics and struggles. Mark Wyatt’s fragmented pattern poetry calls out the atrocities made possible by unquestioning obedience to religious and political dictates. Patricia Doyne mocks Donald Trump’s pursuit of grandeur as Bill Tope presents another satirical take on Trump’s proposed arch. Staci Modisette reminds us to protect ourselves while speaking up for peace and justice. Eva Lianou Petropoulou’s gentle words are set to ethereal vocals and a drifting background melody, with an encore here. Аshurоvа Dinоrа Аnvаrqul qizi outlines the role of Uzbekistan’s National Center for Human Rights.

Cultural and world history might seem static, but it can also be fluid in the sense that we remember it differently, or remember different aspects of it, over time. What and how we remember can have repercussions in the present. Lan Anh, a Vietnamese economics student in Germany, illustrates the intricate web of relationships between nations, economies, and people, highlighting the invisible boundaries that connect and impact lives in unseen ways. Muhammadyusuf Kozimjonov outlines the historical and cultural development of Uzbekistan. Joseph Ogbonna revels in the intriguing cultural and political history of the island of Corsica. Nozima Gofurova describes the cultural treasures she saw during her tour of Uzbekistan’s Center for Islamic Education. Jernail S. Anand encourages us to look to wise examples from history to create the world we would like to see.

Tasneem Hossain celebrates the richness of the world’s heritage of dance. Federico Wardal highlights an upcoming star-studded event in Rome celebrating Dante Aligheri which will be attended by cinema and theater luminaries. Yatti Sadelli reviews Dr. Bashir Issa Al-Shirawi’s poetry, highlighting his theme of the inner strength and resilience of the world’s women. Emmanuel Chimezie, Nigerian poet and founder of Poets’ Workshop (Global), interviews Egyptian poet Abdel Latif Moubarak about how life in Cairo shapes poetry, delving into themes of darkness, inequality, and identity.

Language and literature are part of world culture as well as a bridge among various cultures. Nozimova Shukrona highlights the value and importance of reading as a way to learn and participate in global thought. Jernail S. Anand urges readers to nourish our minds as well as our bodies, with a well-chosen and varied diet. Tursunaliyeva Zilolaxon celebrates the value of books, literature and libraries. Joseph Nechvatal’s review of Rus Khomutoff’s poem “Kaos Karma” examines the work as an abstract machine that combines literature and chaos magick philosophy, exploring themes of multiplicity, singularity, and the relationship between poetry and passion. Yulduz Kurbоnоvа explores how courtesies embedded in the Uzbek language can get lost in translation to other tongues. Delo Isulfi pays tribute to Rohini Kumar Behera, reflecting on his poetry, highlighting Behera’s themes of peace, gratitude, and nature, and how they convey a sense of spirituality and universality.

Education serves as a vital site where tradition and innovation meet—a place where societies negotiate fluid continuity and change. Many contributors discuss best practices for teaching language and other subjects in school. Subanova Dilafruz discusses audio aids for young language learners. Charos Mansurova discusses the phenomenon of English “loan-words” in Korean. Azimova Nilufar Egamberdiyevna compares word structures in English and Uzbek. Pardayeva Yulduz outlines methods of English-Uzbek idiom translation. Abduraufova Nilufar Khurshidjon kizi highlights the need for parents and educators to work together to teach young children. Qurbana Mubinakhon Umidjon qizi discusses how parents and educators can cooperate to inculcate national values in Uzbek children. Usmonaliyeva Bahora Abduvali qizi explores the role of idioms in Uzbek literature. Ahadova Feruzakhon looks at ways to improve student vocabulary knowledge.

Abduhalilova Sevdora Xayrulla kizi asserts the importance of physical education in school. Isakova Mukhlisa Khusanboevna illuminates exercise as a stress reliever for students. Bakhromova Gulsanam discusses the importance of inclusive education for students with disabilities and practical ways to make that happen. Abdullajanova Shahnozals’hoqxon suggests ways to help shy language students feel more comfortable speaking up in class. Dildoraxon Turgunboyeva explores how to create nurturing and educational preschool environments. Abduhalilova Sevdora offers up a polylexical analysis of English language phraseology. Turdaliyeva Mohidil Baxtiyor qizi discusses classroom activities to enhance student vocabulary. Dildoraxon Turg’unboyeva highlights the value of dictionaries in education. Ahadova Feruzakhon suggests ways to work with vocabulary when teaching young students their native language. Shahnoza Amanboyeva points to 3D modeling and artificial intelligence as tools to enhance science classrooms.

One of education’s important social functions is to prepare students to join the workforce. The global economic landscape is continually in flux, as several contributors discuss. Satimboyeva Risolat Ilhomboy qizi outlines future prospects for job growth given emerging world technologies. Azamova Feruza Abduholiq qizi suggests ways to improve the service sector of Uzbekistan’s economy.

Turning to medicine, Mamadiyorova Durdona outlines the structure and function of the human placenta. Ashurova Parizoda explores the biological characteristics of the parasite Ascaris and its effects on the human body. Xamroyeva Shaxlo discusses the process of blood formation in the human body.

For a look at a widely discussed technology, Rahmonova Barno Kilich qizi probes the economic future of our world after the growth of artificial intelligence. Nurmatova Charosxon Pirnazar qizi also explores how artificial intelligence is reshaping education and the global economy. Toshbotirov Bekjaxon Asliddin o‘g‘li outlines useful roles for AI in the classroom. O’rinboyeva Ziynatjon Anvarbek qizi points to effects of artificial intelligence on society.

Dildora Sultonova celebrates human intelligence, singing an ode to her resplendent and resilient dreams. Eva Petropoulou Lianou interviews poet Eldar Akhadov, highlighting his optimism and respect for the next generation.

A common thread in this entire issue is the persistence of human connection in the face of change. Each contributor grapples with how individuals and communities relate to each other, to history and culture, to the natural world. Smaller scale personal narratives and larger stories intertwine as overlapping dimensions of the human story. The blending of artistic forms and styles in several works evokes the complex flowing of ideas within the creative mind, a current that dissolves rigid boundaries among ideas and cultures.

The collection suggests that while much of our lives inevitably flows and shifts with the passage of time and with cultural and technological change, the underlying human impulses to connect, to understand, and to create meaning remain constant..

Good morning with good wishes

By

Manik Chakraborty. 

Good morning with good wishes

The colorful morning light,

Let the earth rise with laughter again

Let the blackness be erased.

Flowers will bloom with the song of birds

Bees will run,

Flying in confusion

They will steal the honey from the flowers

The wind will blow, the sky will be colored

With the murmur of the river,

Nature will laugh again

With the song of the fisherman

The Loss Of Words

He kept them once,

in the lining of his coat,

folded like letters never sent,

warm from the friction of thought.

They used to come easy,

like rain that knew his name,

each drop a confession

he could hold without trembling.

Now they rot in the corners

half-formed,

chewed down to bone,

their meanings siphoned off

by something with a quieter hunger.

He trades syllables for silence,

line by line,

until even his voice forgets

how to reach him.

There is a page

always a page

waiting like a witness

that will not intervene.

And somewhere beneath the ruin,

a single word claws upward,

bloated, unrecognizable,

begging to be written

before it dies again.

Windmills

The wind

keeps trying to explain itself

to the same crooked blades

and they nod

like they understand

but all they really do

is turn

grinding the sky

into smaller pieces

until evening

falls apart quietly

behind them

The Affair I Never Had

I remember her
like a place
I never went

a street
with all the lights on
and no one home

we passed once—
or maybe we didn’t

but something in me
kept waving

like a curtain
caught in a window
that was never opened

and even now
there’s a silence
I visit sometimes

where she almost speaks

and I almost answer

Leon Drake is a Toronto based poet whose work has been published in print and online. He lets his writing speak for him. For art is the best side of us.

In the quiet of my restless mind,

Dreams awaken, undefined.

Like shadows dancing on the wall,

They rise, they fade, they softly call.

I walk alone, yet feel no fear,

For hope itself is always near.

A fragile light within my soul,

Reminds me I am still whole.

Though nights are long and skies are grey,

My dreams refuse to drift away.

They whisper gently, calm and deep:

“You were not born to simply sleep.”

How Wonderful The Gift Of Life Seems 

Can you speak or write in the absolute now, or is the now gone in the time it takes for the now to hit your senses and wind its way up our nerves into our brains and then for us to speak or write it on a page?      

Can we overlook the micro-moments between perception and recording on the brain or on paper?     

In this near to now my dog licks his black paw stretched out on the bed. The light streams in a side window into this darkened room onto this notebook page and a dove outside calls. Those nearly nows are receding as my pen moves on the page trying to pin them down.     

The dove still calls. The air filter hums almost silently in this allergy season.     

Now there’s the sound of a page turning as I write more in the nearly now. It is close to quiet in this nearly now. A top drawer in this old brown wooden desk is half open. There is a humming in my ears. I have a taste of tinnitus.      

Here the nearly now is mostly still. Some might call it boring. So busy am I in recording that my thoughts are rare. My body feels a little tired. My sad bad knees are both aching. Should I be sorry this nearly now is not more dramatic?      

Put down your cell phones, kids, and enjoy the silence. Learn to muse and think on your own.    No bombs are falling outside but I know they are falling elsewhere. I hear the quite whir of a plane overheard. Rain is falling, a slow rain outside that my dog and I don’t hear, or maybe Coco dog hears.      

It’s been peaceful to settle into this nearly now. I am content, and now I am thinking in this nearly now, of a thought I had yesterday.     

Is that cheating?     

Is that thought as much of the now as the tinnitus in my ears? You may disagree if you are here with me in the nearly now at a later date.     

Yesterday’s thought is about the story of life’s beginning. I learned in school that life began with the mixing of chemicals in a warm body of water. The constant stirring in currents of the chemicals finally led to life. Perhaps it was a virus kind of life since a virus sits on the edge of life and nonlife.     

 But what if life bloomed in more than one place, here on this planet or elsewhere? What if life had multiple origins? Maybe there are aliens out there and distant planets we cannot travel to in multiple lifetimes. I am thinking of this in the nearly now. Any memory pulled from the past as thought is now in the nearly now.      

And when I am thinking in the nearly now, am I not also thinking a bit in the future in a yearning for the future?     

I’m thinking I may publish this rambling on the nearly now in the future. It is the possibility of sharing my thoughts with others that leads me to write them down. Nearly now thoughts of the future are pulling me forward.    

So perhaps no divides exist between the past, the nearly now, and the future. Time, as the old metaphor said, is a flowing river and cannot be divided.     

My hope is that some souls in the future will read this and the ideas will live again rolling through their nearly nows, and I will kind of live again.    

 It has stopped raining. My spouse is starting to move about, getting ready to check on the backyard garden. I give my love a quick kiss as she heads out the back door. I may feel differently tomorrow—what with the terrible calls coming out of the wider world—but how wonderful the gift of life seems in this nearly now. 

The Legend of Loquat Island

1. You Bring All of Yourself

When the sun has fully turned to summer,

you are still there,

among the indistinct clouds.

You do not come,

do not step on any of the seven strings,

rhythmically stepping out of the unclear clouds.

Nor do I go.

The stop sign is yellow, hidden by pagoda blossoms;

I fear I might lose my way.

The wind runs along the shadows of flowers till noon,

and noon shatters in the sound of the qin.

Flowers are like eyes, gazing at fruits from afar.

Leaves and sails turn brown gradually —

summer is growing old.

For loneliness is a game of Go,

played by the left hand against the right.

In a throat murmur, I paint rust over your name,

walk near the fence, bend with the grapevines and peer.

It is already summer, so much summer.

Soon the flowers will put on yellow jackets.

The last bus always writes ugly novels,

yet cannot write your warm name.

You are my summer.

When you come, summer stays.

Let maple leaves burn themselves out.

As long as you bring all of yourself.

2. Perhaps I Do Not Love You

Perhaps I should not speak this obscure sentence.

Your drizzle is about to damp my swaying steps again.

Your story moves me,

moves the vast seasonal moods in my heart.

A liquid landscape rises on our cheeks, a curved theme.

Your eyelashes, scattered with chinaberry flowers,

take me as your future.

Yet from your small figure, I revisit my past.

In this summer with a mischievous sun,

innocent fruits stir the noise of old days.

It is only that we are too gentle, like water,

fond of waiting and remembering.

All from one moment’s attention

grew into the whole secret of my life.

I love you — the shadow of my childhood in you.

Please love me too — your promised autumn in me.

Let us be two mirrored Z’s,

lyrical on either side of a single sentence.

3. Duet

We walk into a night without a title,

into a bumpy alley.

The moon, a yellowish raven,

holds the burning road behind us.

One easily grows emotional in the dark.

You say it’s nothing — we’re poets,

so I am no longer shy.

I take your hand and walk past the lamps of misunderstanding.

Alley connects to street; the alley is a solo.

We are a bumpy duet,

perhaps all duets are like this.

We laugh secretly, and our laughter turns to flowers on branches.

We cannot turn back; the moon still lingers,

we have lingered too.

That year we both lost love, both looked pale.

It is fate, you say, pressing your lips

and holding me tighter.

I only lift my head and whistle a clumsy tune.

The alley leads to the long street.

We count the stop signs one by one and do not stop.

In every tree shadow, two pairs of eyes catch each other.

The duet behind us spreads into a clear mixed forest.

You imitate my whistle,

then scare yourself away.

On the main street,

we give away our bumpy heartbeats

to all the lingering figures of Pisces.

4. Loquat Island

Loquat Island lies where God does not reach.

Invitations are rejected,

stamps are rejected.

Even the temperamental typhoon

cannot land on Loquat Island.

Loquats on Loquat Island never ripen.

Summer flowers only bloom for crowded music.

All numbers from one to seven love lyricism.

Loquat Island, Loquat Island, far out at sea.

Tender green coconuts are lifted by tides to keep balance.

Drift bottles carry distant questions.

We pass through the typhoon.

We land gently, on each other’s coastal lips.

Since we came, the moon has hidden in the bird’s nest in the tree,

the sun has lost its way in our eyes,

and drizzle always murmurs softly.

Since we came, loquats no longer turn sour.

We occupy the date of waves and rocks,

the date of moon and sun.

We link our hands into a rainbow and claim sovereignty.

With a wave of the sleeve,

we snap the rope of the canoe,

wave away the one-way wind and rain.

Let us stay on Loquat Island —

be two loquat trees growing ten leaves each,

standing in a season where even stones can bloom.

Loquat Island, Loquat Island, abundant in love.

Let us pretend to be mountain spirits,

cloaked in litchi leaves, greedy and playful.

If one day the sea is stuffed full of loquats we shake down,

will you invite the lovelorn typhoon

to come to our Loquat Island

and taste authentic loquat love?

May 24, 1985

 Father’s light 

Father, your warmth is like the sun so bright,

Every word you speak guides me through the night.

When I grow weary, your voice gives me might,

In my heart, you are a beacon of light.

Your soul is vast, like the shoreless sea,

Through you, I found faith and the strength to be.

No hardship can ever discourage me,

For with you by my side, I stand strong and free.

Hardworking, honest, and kind in your way,

None can replace you, come what may.

Your smile is my joy, the light of my day,

May your life be a throne where golden rays play.

With you, our home is filled with grace,

Peace and happiness in every space.

Stay healthy and near us, in love’s embrace,

May joy follow every step you trace.

Gulsanam Mamasiddiqova was born on July 22, 2007, in the Oltiariq district of the Fergana region, Uzbekistan. A 2025 graduate of School No. 25 in Oltiariq, she is currently a first-year student at Andijan State University, majoring in Philology and Language Teaching (English). Gulsanam is passionate about literature and linguistics, seeking to bridge cultures through her creative writing and poetic voice.