Poetry from Rashidova Lobar

Young Central Asian teen girl with long dark hair, brown eyes, and a black and white patterned top standing in front of a set of drawers.

MOTHER TONGUE

They say — the mother tongue is the nation’s mirror,

My language — the soul and life of my people.

With mother tongue, hearts shine clearer,

My Uzbek tongue — my homeland’s symbol of honor.

Because of you, the nation lives on,

Past, present, and future in you are drawn.

From my mother’s lullaby your melody was born,

For you — my heart is full of love and devotion.

Language — the brightest star in a nation’s sky,

Each of your words leaves a radiant light.

If you fade, the people’s identity will die,

With you, the nation stands in its might.

My Uzbek tongue, be eternal, stay strong,

Though ages and centuries may move along.

You are our pride, our glory, our story,

My mother tongue — bloom forever in glory!

Kattakurgan State Pedagogical Institute, Student of Mathematics and Informatics

Essay from Muhayyo Toshpo’latova

The Current State of Uzbek Literature

Uzbek literature today stands at a fascinating crossroads between tradition and modernity. Rooted in the rich legacy of classical poets such as Alisher Navoi and modern writers like Abdulla Qodiriy, contemporary Uzbek literature continues to evolve in response to rapid social, cultural, and technological changes.

In recent years, there has been a noticeable revival of interest in national identity and language within the literary scene. Many young writers are exploring themes of self-discovery, cultural preservation, and the tension between globalization and tradition. The use of the Uzbek language in literature has expanded, with a growing number of poets and novelists choosing to write in their native tongue rather than in Russian, which dominated much of the Soviet era.

Digital media has also played a significant role in shaping the new literary landscape. Online platforms, blogs, and social media have provided young authors with the opportunity to share their works widely, bypassing traditional publishing barriers. This democratization of literature has led to a more diverse range of voices and perspectives being heard.

However, challenges remain. The publishing industry in Uzbekistan still faces financial and logistical difficulties, and there is a need for stronger international promotion of Uzbek literature. Many talented writers lack access to professional translation and global literary networks, which limits the global reach of their work.

Despite these challenges, the future of Uzbek literature looks promising. The new generation of writers is bold, creative, and deeply connected to both national heritage and global culture. Their works reflect the complexities of modern Uzbek society—its hopes, struggles, and dreams. With continued support for education, publishing, and translation, Uzbek literature is poised to gain wider recognition on the international stage.

Toshpo’latova Muxayyo Shokirjon qizi  Student of the faculty of Philology,Uzbekistan State university World Language 3rd Year

Poetry from Eddie Heaton

and this is what that feels like

it creeps into you backwards

with its bug eyes on your feet 

on a tight leash

fold and unfold 

as the woodland comes to life 

in surroundings

i wave she waving

must run

rice cake wars 

once factories made sure

still jolly reader

really bad got bored 

rather than wait

the creature stirred

who would have thought 

of virgin lands

with ringing crystals 

so debauched

who then is watching

this unprecedented growth

through a soft lens

reach for a cigarette 

vodka

this world

has become a dark world 

murdering catamites 

behind a white picket fence 

what is on offer 

we bring you plate

ransom note 

thought circuits bathed in flaming gravy

simple weird moments in a deep bass slot

fine dimly wondered march acoustics

sirloin beef broils there bypassing breath

this infernal whooping through my mucus

has transformed the cold machinery of war  

break out the psalms and trance-like simul-

ations before the god of winds caresses 

your last breath counting your sleeps in a 

sound-proofed chamber recycling waste 

for a jollier death my knees have turned 

against me and now they’re spreading so 

there’s little else left for me to do 

a little bit of ghastly’s gone astray go 

check for mail and mow the lawn and 

throw your groceries in the bin this must 

we see it flows through graduated forms 

a stasis tube containing light a play with 

something different new concerns 

providing stranger personal effects 

aesthetic coffins 

ripened love buds please 

dear uncle am i then the one 

am i a shade of energy 

pulsating in and out 

of love of time 

not out of hate of signs 

but talk of peace

that mimics all the body’s core

and fights what should have made a 

difference and yet appears in more and 

more degrading revelations force fed 

into my conscious mind it’s what is 

endlessly desired discover walks and 

roots in forestation that renew then 

take up huge amounts of time – the 

moments must so easily slip by be still

and concentrate as best you can with 

myra hindley on your knee a flash of 

bottled radishes pressed up against your 

spine that so inflames the rash that your 

humanity decries



Poetry from Abbas Yusuf Alhassan

What Would You Do When I Am Gone?

  1. Would you cry tears of blood,
    Or perform like a well-rehearsed actor on stage
    Acting the script down to each pause and sigh,
    Rolling your body like a prayer mat
    laid out in sorrow, for eyes to behold?
  2. Would you stay longer beside my grave
    when footsteps fade away,
    Or would you offer prayers
    for the soil to welcome me with open arms
    then walk away too,
    like I was just another chapter
    You never meant to reread?
  3. Would you tell tales of me like stories with imaginary characters
    less complex but easier to decipher,
    Or would you erase me like written text with chalk wipe off the board
    As if my existence is a myth?
  4. Would you tell them we once shared something sacred,
    Absurd in the belief that we’re two sides of a coin
    even death can’t do us apart
  5. Would you sit amidst my dirge gathering,
    and when prayer rises from unfamiliar voices skyward,
    Would you utter Ameen in silence,
    hoping each word finds me
    somewhere beyond reach
    where time no longer exists
    and my troubles finally cease?
  6. Would you tell them they lived a library of words
    Sitting on the edges of your lips, some tucked in between your teeth
    that were meant for me but never saw the light of day?
  7. Would the things left unsaid between us
    make you vigilant at night like a culprit at bay,
    Flinching with every reminiscence of me?
  8. Would you stay with my mother after my Janāzah,
    Sit beside her in silence when words fail,
    And when she speaks of me with trembling lips,
    Would you try to picture me
    Somewhere in a garden where words can’t express,
    Where peace grows like wildflowers so she can smile knowing her son is with his
    beloved?
  9. Would you tell them I once loved you
    Like the very breath in my lungs?
    That I chased you
    Like a shepherd following his flock
    Not out of routine,
    But because without them,
    He simply cannot live.
  10. Or will you confess our parting was the cruelest lie
    That I became the echo that no cave has withstood?
    Tell them my love remains a phantom on your heart,
    the constant pressure that your spirit has missed,
    a quiet, deep longing that proves we never really died?

Abbas Yusuf Alhassan is a poet and a dedicated student of Fisheries and Aquaculture. Passionate about creative expression, he shares his work with a growing literary audience on Instagram. He has co-authored two anthologies: *Life and Death* (SGSH Publication) and *If Only Words Were Enough* (Al-Zehra Publication). Abbas values the art of learning and unlearning, continuously seeking new ideas and perspectives. While he studies life underwater, his soul resides in verse and stanzas.

Find him on Instagram: @Itzz_Abbasssss  

Facebook & X (formerly Twitter): Abbas Yusuf Alhassan.

Poetry from Mykyta Ryzhykh

Swallow wings

Cat guts

A flower peeks out

From under the snow

A newborn’s ugly

Introduction to reality

***

Someone will prepare the order for pickup and burn the burger on the fire of memories

You can feel the bloody ketchup of feelings mixed with the ashes of the past

A little mayonnaise on top of the fumes from the fire of misunderstandings

The product must be consumed before:

Bombed fast food will never be able to issue an order to a customer

***

the inquisitor with the eyes of the night

where the bloody water flows

the waves of time take away our bodies

we are nowhere

***

A folder with documents falls out of your hands

I get nervous every time before an important report

The amputated heart does not make itself felt at all

Somewhere far away someone else is kissing your buttock

But I don’t care because my cheeks are too cold for tears

I bloodily threw you in the trash [can]

My veins and capillaries no longer warm my body

I threw you away along with my heart

But why do you still live inside my head no matter what?

***

the sniper

pregnant

with death

gives birth

to silence