RAIN

When rain fell before, we’d sing with delight,
But now when it rains, we feel lost in the night.
The streets turn to mud, and we stay inside,
Bored through the day, with nowhere to hide.
Oh, rain in your shower, please cease your parade,
Let joy return back, let the sun’s warmth invade. 

Sodiqova Adolatxon

Hamid Olimjon and Zulfiya Creative school

« Nos cœurs sont pleins de printemps, vivre est une prière que seul l’union des hommes peut exaucer » Rachida Belkacem                                            

“Our hearts are full of spring, living is a prayer fulfilled only through men’s union”

« Le ciel n’est pas sans mémoire, nos vies l’emplissent de notre courage intense et notre humanité. »Rachida Belkacem.                                                     

“The sky is not without memories, our lives fill it with intense courage and humanity”

« Tu naquis le jour de mon crépuscule, 

La lueur éclairant mon chemin,

Me tendant la main,

Faisant éclore d’un geste les fleurs, 

Transformant chaque combat,

Par ta présence épurant le monde,

Le transformant en bénédiction divine »

“You are born the day of my dusk,

The light shining on my path,

Handing me your hand,

Making flowers blossom with a gesture,

Transforming every combat,

Purifying the world through your presence

And transforming it to a divine blessing

Les secrets de l’appartenance

Certains regards ne sont pas d’aujourd’hui,
Ils reflètent un ailleurs lointain,
Une histoire,
Une vision portant les âmes de nos ancêtres,
Certains sont plus puissants que d’autres,
Plus souverains, 
Ce sont des guides,
Que les hommes appellent suppléments d’âme.
Ce regard est libre, s’affranchit des exigences de l’instant.
Témoin de nos amnésies diurnes.      

The secrets of belonging

Some looks are not from today,
They reflect a distant elsewhere,
A history,
A vision carrying the souls of our ancestors,
Some are more powerful than others,
More sovereign,
They are guides,
That men call soul supplements.
This look is free, frees itself from the demands of the moment.
Witness to our diurnal amnesias.
       

Sonorités intérieures

J’ai caché des fleurs dans tes silences,
Ton absence me murmure intensément : rien ne dure,
Tout continue d’exister,
Il su’it d’apprendre à voir,
Je me laisse envahir par les notes de ta voix,
Un murmure fragile, chargé de vérité,
Hypnotique et onirique,
J’y crois. 
Je n’ai pas le choix,
Je te porte en moi, 
J’ai caché des fleurs dans tous les silences, 
Elles me parlent d’éternité dans l’éphémère.
Je n’ai pas le choix,          
J’y crois.

  

Inner sounds

I have hidden flowers in your silences,
Your absence whispers to me intensely: nothing lasts,
Everything continues to exist,
It is enough to learn to see,
I let myself be invaded by the notes of your voice,
A fragile whisper, full of truth,
Hypnotic and dreamlike,
I believe in it.
I have no choice,
I carry you within me,
I have hidden flowers in all the silences,
They speak to me of eternity in the ephemeral.
I have no choice,
I believe in it.

I was born in Hauts-de-France, live in Ile-de-France, graduated in occupational health from the University of Paris-Est Créteil.
I have been involved in the world of culture in France and Morocco for several years.

A former radio columnist, I was decorated with the High Badges of the Divine Academy in Paris in 2018 and in 2021 with the title of Grand Ambassador of Culture and the Arts for my investment in the field of international culture.
In 2020, I had the pleasure of being a member of the jury for the literary prize “D’ailleurs et d’ici” when it was created by Marc Cheb Sun.

My first novel “La révolte des secrets” was published in January 2020.
I collaborated on the book “Morocco de quoi ont-nous peur” under the direction of Abdelhak Najib and Noureddine Bousefiha Editions Orion.
True to my dual French and Moroccan culture, I was chosen and featured in the art book “Le temps des femmes libres” by Abdelhak Najib alongside 150 committed and inspiring women in Morocco and the diaspora. A book dedicated to women, to all Moroccan women who have marked their time, women who distinguish themselves through their journeys and their paths in life.

In 2021, I published in France a collection of poetry “Phronésis” Editions Mindset, (Illustrations Ilham Laraki Omari painter). It has been available on the mindset, Amazon, Fnac websites and in all bookstores in France since July 2021.
In 2022, I also participated in the international literature event in January, a literature festival where life meets literature: “Panorama International Literature Festival 2022” representing France.
I also participated in the Paris-France event, placed under the theme “Morocco, land of cultures and arts” at the Fondation Maison du Maroc – FMDM as an author and speaker.

I had the privilege of exhibiting and signing my books at the famous and prestigious Carrousel du Louvre in Paris in April 2022 with Divine Académie.
On October 8, 2023, I received the literary prize “Coup de cœur” at the book fair in the city of Soissons in France for my collection of poetry “Phronesis”. A fair paying tribute to women and writing.”
This literary journey led me to be appointed President of the René Depestre literary prize in 2023 for Editions Milot and the Adventus Nova association in Paris, a prize to pay tribute to the illustrious writer René Depestre whose work remains a source of light. A unique international prize allowing authors from all continents visibility and spotlighting. The strength of this prize is to bring an audience together with a work, regardless of the country.

A commitment with an international dimension that honors me.
In 2024, I preface and participate in the collective work Poésie: Luttes et Combats published by Milot, a collective work under the direction of Amar Benhamouche, a reflection by authors of different sensibilities on the place of poetry today and tomorrow.
Finally, I participated in several book signing sessions with readings and spoke at numerous conferences in France and abroad.
I remain on humanist themes with an attraction to nature, women, and their connection to the world.

O’tkir Mulikboyev	Tue, Dec 24, 10:19 PM (3 days ago)
to me

The Magic of Chemistry

In the beautiful city of Samarkand, there was a highly qualified teacher named Jasur at School No. 81. From a young age, he had been passionate about chemistry, and through his diligence and aspirations, he had become a teacher who dedicated himself to sharing his favorite subject with his students. His classes were different from ordinary lessons. Jasur referred to chemistry as magic and taught his students to look at it from this perspective.

“Today, we will create magic together,” Jasur announced one day as he entered the classroom. The students’ eyes widened in surprise. Jasur showcased his small, yet well-equipped table. On it were various flasks, test tubes, chemical substances, and several intriguing devices.

“I’m going to share a secret with you,” Jasur continued, “Chemistry is real magic. We combine different substances and create new and extraordinary things. We change colors, release gases, and even make it rain artificially.”

The students were left in awe. Jasur demonstrated the first experiment. He mixed several colored solutions and observed how their colors changed. Then he combined a few substances to create a foamy and colorful liquid. The students’ exclamations filled the classroom.

“This is not magic; this is chemistry,” Jasur explained. “We just need to understand the properties of the substances and combine them correctly. If we follow the laws of chemistry, we can create any magic!”

Jasur’s classes were interesting and exciting. He allowed the students to conduct various experiments, teaching them how to work with chemical substances, while also helping them make their own discoveries.

One day, Jasur proposed an experiment called “Magical Crystals.” They dissolved different salts in water and then cooled them slowly to create beautiful crystals. The students’ eyes shone with wonder and curiosity. They were thrilled to see the crystals they had created.

Jasur’s classes made chemistry more engaging and understandable for his students. They began to view chemistry not just as a subject, but as an exciting and extraordinary world. Jasur inspired his students with his chemical magic and helped them enhance their knowledge.

Jasur Mulikboyev, Son of Qochqor

Chemistry Teacher, School No. 81, Samarkand City

Heart in love

I’m in love

My heart has blossomed again.

It’s been broken so many times

I thought I’d never love again…

Today you’re in my life

You hit my heart with your smile…

I’ll try and enjoy it as long as this beautiful feeling exists that makes me happy

The ideas

Ideas are spinning in my head at full speed.

It is an endless number of flashes and images

That become humanitarian realities

It is an infinite sea That the universe provides me

To give light to all those who work culturally.

Mirta Liliana Ramírez has been a poet and writer since she was 12 years old. She has been a Cultural Manager for more than 35 years. Creator and Director of the Groups of Writers and Artists: Together for the Letters, Artescritores, MultiArt, JPL world youth, Together for the letters Uzbekistan 1 and 2. She firmly defends that culture is the key to unite all the countries of the world. She works only with his own, free and integrating projects at a world cultural level. She has created the Cultural Movement with Rastrillaje Cultural and Forming the New Cultural Belts at the local level and also from Argentina to the world.

Out of the Woods

Little spider, stick to your web.

Or else abandon your sorrows for the way.

            —from discover the Buddha

In the story there are always two children.

Lost in the woods.

Brother and sister

rooted in forgetfulness

as if we are all in a dream with them

wandering,

coming upon: a stream

a rickety cottage

our family history of neglect.

*

So, what do we know

besides the way is unclear?

This, our first lesson in life

and what we continue to tell ourselves,

slaves to our desires.

Some kind of test to reveal something,

to prove someone more powerful than us or

to prove we have hidden power:

climbing a beanstalk

outsmarting the wolf

fitting the right slipper in time.

What we can’t accept

is the truth—spider web of sorrows,

of our own making—and what

we can’t let go of.

*

If we sit still long enough,

not searching for the just-right bed

or following bread crumbs, if

we listen for the still, small voice, if

we stop painting walls new colors

trying to make a difference,

the way finds us,

our mind stream poised for another

body to breathe in,

“I” disappeared,

no self in any life

no web, no magic word,

no spell to cast.

What Could Be Known

            the idea of empire—

            of winnowing chaff from grain—

heresy as in

            early maps of the human body

in the era of God—

their makers’ sinful pride in opening up

bodies needed for an era of Man,

still, I recall this idea

of an empire between us, or

rather,

what could be known—

                                    your heart?

us falling off the edge of the earth, or

                                    rather,

joss sticks waving scent—

blessings at sunrise, sunset,

bone cage, linen, raven, feldspar;

            a field in breathy October;

an abstract painting of two lovers;

what the artist almost captured:

            beyond language there is meaning,

how they sit on the porch of the palace

            and have forgotten the palace

embrace sounds the same in any language—

ahead a phantom clearing—

I no longer remember:

that youthful cause, who joined me in it,

our duty to love;

                        memory caves in upon itself—a mine collapse;

                                    what is left:

*

a nest of hornets, ash buds, the unsayable,

or is it that which I refuse to say?

            this or that always ahead—

either demon twin could ruin me,

if, in fact, there’s anything     

            to be ruined

            like the lost worship in your eyes

            I have forgotten too

                        the stone walls of Vieux Quebec,

                        narrow cobbled streets;

                                                you hidden

                        in shadows of fleur-de-lis,

                                    unfindable

                        a ghost ship     indeed a way to almost

                                                appear,

                        with nowhere to go, you can’t go astray

In Nova Scotia’s maritime museum

            I found God;

not a form of God       not what I’d known,

            no not known—

                        *for knowing about light

                        does not dispel dark*

            but experienced, always,

before;

                        arm in arm, long streets down to the harbor

                        whispers in doorways

                                                silver moth/mouth—the elemental

                        puddles of regret skipped over

                                                black stone/white stone

                        a child’s riddle, peach pit, dust mites

                                    history, myth—a flute’s spent reed

Sanctuaries

Ripe field in August—dew drops on corn silk

Under a large willow in a sudden rainstorm

The fabulist’s tale embellished with each telling

The canyons of Giant City—gaping mouths

Church on Rue Sainte Pierre, Quebec City

The catty post mortem of a family get-together

A conservatory’s moist, names posted in Latin

Thicket in the woods found in childhood

House of memory: even the misremembered

Giggling beneath a sheet pulled over our heads

Calm paradise in my mind—safe place for therapy.

Treehouse with wooden steps and makeshift floor

A teenager’s poster-filled bedroom

Musty attic filled with the past buried within us

Quiet bookstore—a cat rubbing my calf

Old movies with comforting, cliched characters

In bed, your arm over my side wanting nothing

The blue hour’s remaining light—hold still

Natura Morta (Still Life)

We want to see flowers arranged to seem random—

Van Gogh’s vase with fifteen (count them) sunflowers.

Braque’s monochromatic violin and candlestick,

Cezanne’s jug, curtain, and fruit bowl.

Our urge to catch the apple before it falls.

Chardin’s ray of light upon dark, a live cat lurking hints

at movement, as shocking then as the spoiled fruits

of Caravaggio. Claesz’s glass ball reflects

him painting—self portrait amid still life.

1960’s pop art versions: television, beer bottles, red chairs.

All to convince us we can stop life, knowing we can’t.

What is Next?

—italicized line from Rilke

You must change your life

I say nearly every day

as I crumble like the Colossus

O to be a solid Trojan horse no one sees coming!

No telling what threatening beings

would hop out of me

to wreak havoc for no sound reason

as in any war

You must change your life

I hear before sleep—

And when dreams mine my unconscious

I sense how true this is

This shouldn’t prove difficult

I’ve kept everyone including myself guessing

I’ve never had one life

Always almost who I was meant to become

Marc Frazier has published poetry in over a hundred journals both online and in print. A recipient of an Illinois Arts Council Award for poetry, he has also been nominated for two Pushcart Prizes and two “Best of the Nets.” He’s published poetry, essays, flash fiction, fiction, photographs, book reviews, and memoir. His four books are available online. His latest poetry book If It Comes To That recently won Silver in the Florida Writers Association best published anthology. Marc, an LGBTQ author, can be found on his Marc Frazier Author page on Facebook and website www.marcfrazierwrites.com. X @marcfrazier45, Insta mcfj45.

Highlights of the Brightest year

Time has many definitions, such as “flowing river”, “deep wind”, “irrevocable wealth” and it always amazes us. Because sometimes we don’t even have time to feel it. Just yesterday it was summer, the sun was shining, people were tired of the heat and went to cool places, but suddenly today it seems like a severe winter has came and our thick hats are covered with snow. It’s hard to believe that another year behind us is the name “old”. And the summary made at the end of the year will make someone happy and someone’s tongue will be dulled. But, no matter what happened, everyone is happy when they summarize the past year. After all, how many people did not reach these moments, did not make plans and dreams for the new year, did not pass through a passage of high time. I’m happy too, of course. Because, I am finally writing about the past year. Every year is refreshing and rich in memories. 2024 was the most intense, important and special year. Why?

 First of all, I graduated from the school where I spent most of the last eleven years with excellent grades. During those times, we grew up, learned letters, met our first teachers, classmates, and achieved our first victories. The first of many unforgettable memories was in our school. And the year 2024 signed and closed the book of this period…

Moreover, this year provided unforgettable moments of learning, realizing its value and living as an applicant. After graduating from school, I specially prepared for university entrance exams in the summer months. I felt like I was drowning in the sea of ​​knowledge, far from my home, without a phone, without distractions. Indeed, knowledge is a sea without end. The best teachers connected me with this sea. Everyone around me worked hard for their future. We have become a family gathered at the same destination for the same purpose. It was very difficult… Sleepless nights, long types of books, painful results… Especially the burden of trust, hope, and responsibility on our shoulders was heavy. The heart was constantly running between poor sweet dreams and fear.

One day… One exam day showed the result of so many efforts and aspirations. I was grateful for my fate. I can’t thank my parents enough for always supporting me. Because they gave opportunities and confidence, taught to be on the path of knowledge and specific goals. “I wish all parents were like them,” I said, crying involuntarily. In the villages, little attention is paid to the education of girls. Grandparents and parents rarely invest in their daughters’ education. But my grandfather and grandmother are the people who expected me to become a student more than me. Their prayer, motivation and faith had a special place in this event.

So, in 2024 I got the name “Student”. As I dreamed, I was accepted to study English philology and language teaching faculty at the University of Journalism and Mass Communications of Uzbekistan with a score of 182.4 on the basis of a state grant. I have achieved one of my biggest goals for the year. I started the fall season as a student. I really felt that being a student was a golden age. Living independently in a new way of life, away from family, is not easy. But this is an inevitable life for everyone. My love for my university is different. In it, my teachers share new knowledge with us, new friends, new agenda, new library and books, new city, new bedroom, new adventures, new photos on my phone, new conversations with my parents, family and scholarship money, my new card… I love all of them. 2024 will be remembered in my future life with this sweet news.

They say, “A person who stops reading books stops thinking.” One of my biggest fears in 2024 was to stop thinking. It doesn’t matter when, where, how much you read. In fact, not to become materialistic in the city where life is boiling every second, emphasizing the economic aspects. It is the most important thing not to become a stranger to activities that you love, that are truly beneficial for you, that bring perfection to your soul, and not to lose your identity. This year I took a break from creativity. Nevertheless, in April 2024, I won the second place in the regional stage of the “Dillarda Vatan Madhi” competition . I was awarded with cash prizes. My creative works were published in newspapers and magazines. There were times when I really wanted to write…I couldn’t. But it is clear that what I felt this year will  affect what I write in the future. “The best investment is an investment in science!” I tried to invest in my knowledge. By studying in the educational program of “Kelajak: ilmi qizlar hamjamiyati”, I progressed and developed in a certain sense. I also successfully graduated from the Turkish language classes of “Ibrat Academy”.

I really believe that there is wisdom in all of my losses and unfulfilled plans. As much as possible, people should pay attention to the positive aspects of the events that are happening in their life, be thankful for everything, because then life will start presenting bright gifts. I am happy to have discovered many new experiences, new destinations, new feelings, to be with my family, to live the days I dreamed of. A short summary of this year could have been written much more. But as I said above, time surprises us with its speed. The new year is coming with greetings. Making beautiful intentions for 2025, creating a map for dreams… Oh, there’s still a lot to do. What about you, dears? Have you summed up the year 2024, did you give thanks? Have you set goals for the new year? If your answer is “no”, I would like to remind you: The future happiness, the tears of joy that will flow from your eyes suddenly will be the result of your actions, hard work that you are doing today. Appreciate the time!

Shahnoza Ochildiyeva

Uzbekistan Journalism and Mass Communications

University English philology and teaching languages faculty

First year student.