Sparrow Wars

I

Sludge water dripping

into an already clogged pipe.

Blood in my microscope, torn out

like a diary page, necessary to

analyze the ingredients.

Will the wound lift? be inverted

into a creative windstorm or

a nemesis spread,

spidery-vein spreading

until the curse is complete

and conquers?

I know love is alive,

and that hot and sudden

is the joy that stems from a miraculous shift.

I know building comes with the morning,

comes like brimming sorrow and goes

to a final destination like all things final,

temporary, broken and sliced down the centre –

undergoing a brutal mitosis.

II

Empty tables

clawed apart within

with spikes a-blazing on the edges,

and the light of the moon

high in the sky,

hardly visible.

Time is a dust heap I roll inside of,

never making a dent

or relieving my extremities from

the grim cover.

Beaten by the relentless overwhelm

and the digging dream that digs further down

more than ever before, pulled in by

gravity unspeakable and charged.

Living each day bent over, cane-walking,

repeating anguish, shooting pain and dough-bread

kneading, never baking, never

consuming.

III

When grief comes

it comes at the maximum degree

of chaos, doubt and all things

unsustainable.

Even there, in the squander and grave

disadvantage, I will surrender to trust,

protect the embryo of my new understanding

as precious as it is,

as the only intention worthy of holding,

clinging to despite the toxic smog encircling,

twirling over my extremities, nose-diving into

my internal organs, shutting me down.

It is there and its power is the past, old.

It is able to kill but I am not afraid.

I hold the jewel of this glowing budding faith

and that is all I will look at.

My heart is crushed, undone by the weight of grief

but my soul is tiny blooming. Let it be key.

Let everything be where everything needs to be.

Both are real. Only one will have authority

and receive my attention, elixir formed, a trickle,

ingested.

IV

Drum beat

no beat

I raise my arms

and scream hosana.

The drawers are empty

hunger parts my soul

into quarters. Stand up

and take account, no one

is listening.

Four months of stagnant emotion,

upheaval at the roots, planted again

somewhere less familiar and less fecund.

Faith and despair overlap, cross paths, join

together as a new entity.

Who understands? There is no understanding

to be had, only the ceramic bird on the shelf, winking,

and the air, heavy and humid one minute

and cold, oxygen-free, the next.

In my mind is an argument

existential, without possible resolution.

In my core there is shock at the terror

of disintegration, and for how long?

How much more? And still there is more.

In my being, I knew God

came with mercy, with Jesus and the peace

of infinity – washing clean, a soft joy

without degrees but only flowing, showering, eternal.

In between I wake up and I cannot see forward,

I listen, but I cannot be one with what I hear.

Holy Spirit, holy, do not escape me,

be clear, re-construct my devotion,

find me my union seed, to plant and tend to

simple devotion.

V

Jesus, you let me live.

I will sit with you

hand in hand.

I know you

in my personal crisis –

faith obliterated, reseeding

in a lucky garden.

I will trust you with all my problems,

with my anxiety like a dysfunctional

city, polluting the roadway, the airway

with its violence and indifference,

I will breathe easy, knowing you are here,

that you own it because I give it to you

and reckoning is rescue, in your hands,

miracles are coming – life changing,

a kinship with your divinity.

You are sovereign, my still-point, my doorway

into perpetual redemption.

I will collect the fruit and sit beside you,

eating together – no hunger, no hurry –

You and I, I with you, you

holding my hand.

VI

When I see the unseen

in a twisted longing

death-circle fantasy,

irresistible hope,

and drive to make that hope happen

even though

I am not a citizen of that land,

not meant to come forward

and shine with those deeds,

then I fail and live for an

illusionary future, creating a

hellish now, ripe with lack

and disappointment.

Bend on your knees, bow

to the one-name of God,

feel the slap of sobriety,

the consequences of depending

on your own wit and power

which is like a gnat trying to cross through

a tornado or a choir that sings without

glorifying.

I am learning that being conceived

and being re-conceived

is the cure for fear, the fire

that watches a greater fire,

burning enough,

releasing enough

to rejoice and just burn, a light, a warmth

transient, but elementally,

in this way, everlasting.

VII

It is hard to hold purpose

when purpose no longer holds you

when the single curtain seals the window

blocking the sun and sky,

making you blind so you only touch corners

and never a door.

All things lost their ownership, just wandered

aimless, squandering energy like tossed pebbles,

no pattern, sinking.

Governance failed, was only an imagined

corridor leading to a chaotic marketplace

that doled out meals, lacking nutrients and staying power.

Each shape to take and hold and shift from each day

was hard labour, exhausting to perform,

pretending hope existed when hope had abandoned.

I was not afraid because my fears

were pushed hard into my face,

swelling my eyes so they could only see behind.

Death won out over the light, won obedience –

the middle and opposite, smelling.

Death smells bad

smells like an inevitable succumbing

to rot, betrayal, rendering

endurance useless

and even the holiest of faith debunked.

There is a string before me,

thin and golden and unbreakable.

There is something I see I never saw.

I have collided with the consuming tyranny death,

felt it swerve and twist through

every vein, enter, break my heart,

break the truths I had before.

The string dangles,

dripping down from

of my inadequate cries

and a mangled prayer,

comes shining a faint intermittent glow.

It is small and so am I, minute,

hardly there, but there.  

VIII

If I talk again,

I will keep my end-mind twisted

so it cannot speak or formulate

a plan.

I have no constitution for plans

or wherewithal for achieving

human-made provisions.

If I talk again,

silence me into prayer,

conversing only with the angelic order,

strengthened by devotion and the power

of obedience.

If I try to be a player,

remind me of my meek capacity,

sting me with regret and slap me

into a state of surrender.

If I try to enter a world not my own,

laugh at me, call me out

and put me in my designated low-chair place,

a dreamer, advancing

no further.

IX

Falling away like before

launching water at the moon

then releasing it, scattering it

onto a lifeless surface.

Songs and singing are murderous,

selling the false business of a buffet

inspiration, and poetry, like a sober

prayer or pleading, blossoms in a place

where no one comes or looks or even cares.

Things that once stretched

with divine determination towards health,

now fall backwards into addiction and defeat.

Chaos always hovering at the entrance door,

violence a few footsteps away.

Idealism once trapped in my mind has sieved through

incrementally and now in my mind, a faint flow

of tainted possibility, mostly consumed by despair, mostly

non-existence, more hesitant than youthful,

more resigned than risking.

The days drive on the same,

and how I wish I was in a state

of conspiratorial superiority

or in a social bliss of nonchalance.

How I wish I could be like I used to be,

believing despite the odds,

calling for help and receiving it.

What is this weakness,

this futureless waste of now,

pressing on all my joints,

an aching misery perpetual?

What are these days

when I can find no hope

to master this tortuous doom?

I am removed. A thin slice everywhere

between me and reality. Only sorrow brings

me near enough to touch, only happiness lives

inside my dreams or in my memories,

stripping the peel from the fruit,

dropping it to rot in the mud-marsh with the rest

of my wearied hold on merciful possibilities.

X

I don’t see

the far-reaching joy

to build a future on,

just disappointment, false-starts,

isolation and how can-that be?

I don’t see

but I know the builders take their time

to make sure what needs to be aligned

is aligned, that broken hearts can

become hardened hearts

and hope is dangerous for those who are desperate,

perishing at the foot of the mirage.

But there is a noble prophesy to follow,

to stand by and wait for.

There is true love, love that alters bitter grief

that wraps your love in its healing balm until

it blooms and your dry throat is

finally soothed, your wounds are rewarded,

transformed into strengths exposed,

safe on the marriage altar.

XI

Time does not help

to lessen the sharp scream

of amputation, or to help gain

a way to cope, maimed as I am,

lacking resilience.

Prayer does not answer

any questions or bury the emptiness

outside of my body, allowing

room that can be filled, even with only

a faint groaning microscopic creation.

Love that sits beside me,

day-after-day, holding my hand,

stays with me – miraculous devotion –

helps while it is there,

but does not stop the welling-up of sorrow,

that will not ease or be appeased

in solitude or by distraction.

Faith is a word that sparks

but cannot ignite. I sink down again

on my broken knees. I cannot rise.

I try and I try, but

I cannot overcome.

XII

God do you love me?

Everyday I fall short

of receiving your love,

blocked and stalled and wading

knee-deep in sewage mud.

I cannot take a step. I cannot

hear you anymore or

feel your mercy move the spoke

a mile, an inch, a fraction of

a way out of this criminal sleep,

arrested every day.

I try to take a breath,

try to step but I cannot

move. Please God, show yourself

to me again. I am aching all over,

joints on fire, mind – ablaze in jet-fuel burning

heat, tired all the time, cut off

from your glory.

Cut off no matter my prayers

and my pleas.

Please God, take my hand,

recognize me as one of your own.

I long for you.

I need your grace

to lift me, now,

trumpets calling,

advancing, only with you,

loved, permitted.

XIII

A hive blasted

by poison.

A blood-letting

in crave of a cure.

Two close-together cliffs

jumped across, looking

closer than they are.

In the whirlspin of a fall –

arms broken, extremities blasted,

crying out for someone from the angelic order

to swoop down and placate the pain.

But no angel-being arrives and what is broken

remains broken, deformed and starting to heal

that way, into a permanent liability.

Even then, when stuck thigh-deep in forsaken ground,

God is close, washing our cracked bodies,

cradling our defeat, saying

My Love doesn’t always answer with a clean slate

or a put-on spell so all hurt is forgotten,

not a trace left traceable. Sometimes

My Love just sits with you, beside the pain,

lets you know I am here,

here, in the empathetic love of others,

here, in your own resilience each morning to carry on,

here, in your determination to stay close to me

as you anguish and ache,

unable to walk or fully wake,

seeing that nothing turned out

the way you saw it

in your times of highest harmonic resonance

the way

you were sure it would.

XIV

Will you speak to me again

like before death cracked my windpipe

like when death still hovered thick in the air

but you were there surrounding everything

with the weight of your love?

Will you answer me again

cooling my shape, giving back force

to my petering-out flame

so I can grow again, still tied to your mercy

and the joy of having dreams?

Will I know you again

despite my mutations

and the iron that rotates sickeningly

in my core, using my energy

for lesser aspirations?

Will you love me again

and I will know that love

igniting its current through

my every predicament,

bonding me unbreakable

to your side, inside

your privileged embrace?

XV

First thing,

you are here.

I wake up and we are talking,

merged in a matter-of-fact

conversation. My need, my only way

to take a step in the morning.

More and more, without you, I can’t

exist or comprehend a thing.

Then why this endless desert, the

hard bloated boils erupting

every time I do move?

How is it, you are here, but there

is so much pain still, so much struggle

just to keep alive?

How do I feel so close to you and need

you more than I ever have, have you

more than I ever have, with such

drought and trembling-burns burning everyday,

throughout the days, echoing – no medicine, no food,

just you and I in this high heat,

where I am barely capable,

but somehow capable.

XVI

Then the bitter defeat

was burning like a sin

committed, recognized

and unforgiveable.

Then on a hill, heavy with

weighted down legs and

an injury there, debilitating but

unexplained, the challenge came

to walk.

Walk slowly at first, walk like

I can walk even though the reins

are dropped and I have lost my mother,

lost life’s victory over death and the comfort

of an unbreakable love broken,

altered, intangible now as an angel’s skin

or a hope held for decades unrealized.

Walk with my mortal burden, stumbling without

a path, a cane or a flat plane. Twist in my ankle, twist

in my knee, swollen, bloated with a hot fever, walk.

Face a direction, walk, slowly,

commit and make it my own.

XVIII

Soak the born

in their own initial conception

to remember the pure-memory-pockets,

the truth of miracles.

Underline everything that matters

and read it again until no small word

is skimmed over or taken for granted.

Open the shelter doors and let all animals

in, wild ones, broken ones, aggressive and tame.

Free with a blessing

every dream that isn’t false,

and follow your deepest duty –

both desirous and undesirous divine commands.

Under the blanket, conspiracies are made.

They grow limbs that look like light but exclude

humility and the thumb-print of surrender.

The atmosphere is big,

the button-hole is small.

I am small when I toss

my self-determination out as wisdom

and fail at every turn.

Mercy comes with obedience,

obedience comes with trust, and then finally

freedom.

The dying are trapped in their wounds.

The living, in their success at survival,

but the gift is always

open for everyone, and changing

even without core movement.

I have a boat and that is all I own.

I see flowers on the shore, rooted in the sand.

I see yellow and sometimes, I see gold.

Allison Grayhurst has been nominated for “Best of the Net” six times. She has over 1,400 poems published in over 530 international journals, including translations of her work. She has 25 published books of poetry and six chapbooks. She is an ethical vegan and lives in Toronto with her family. She also sculpts, working with clay; www.allisongrayhurst.com

War is the black scarf

Valentina Yordanova – Accordia (Bulgaria)

Bombs are falling, shells are whistling.

The sky is painfully crying out of fear.

Mothers as well are crying sadly out loud.

And they once sang a song of laughter.

A terrifying sight roars in the dust –

it smells of death and sorrow.

It echoes far and wide. Chaos rages all around.

People are running, birds are circling in fear.

The air is suffocating with a smoke screen

and there is a shortage – hearts stop beating.

And once there was a dewy tear – fragrant.

Mothers are carrying young children in their arms –

looking for salvation at least for them to find.

A child is kneeling next to a woman’s corpse,

sobbing loudly – ​​with tears cursing the war.

The mother is killed – with a torn chest and no pulse,

and he hopes she will see again – she is still alive.

They once walked the streets – holding hands.

And houses are collapsing. Wild fires are blazing.

Cities and villages disappear in a cloud of dust,

and once they were warm family homes.

Now they are collapsing with the bloody snow that has fallen.

People have long been hostile to each other –

their hearts – are mirror ice – from cold.

In their footsteps – death lurks at full speed.

From the war, their souls are drowning in deep sorrow.

Fathers have held their breath in trenches and unfurled flags.

Somewhere a machine gun bark is heard, mowing down the enemy.

War is ominous – it paints emptiness and blindness.

Black headscarves are worn by women – instead of flags.

The picture overflows with sadness – spreading sea,

from which tears roar with a powerful tidal wave.

There is no love between people, and they are brothers of the same

blood. The wind caresses the corpses of soldiers out of pity.

It collects scattered photographs of women and children –

turned into sad fallen leaves of men.

And the dust holds them in dirty red albums.

Graves sprout – like flaming crocuses,

over which a cloud of eternal sorrow and grief remains.

Weighed down on the ground – they are leaden soldiers,

forever marked with tears and flowing blood.

Hearts are orphaned. The world is left breathless.

And let there be no WAR – the black scarf!

History tells enough about it…

I want a united brotherhood to reign everywhere

and with love we sow the seeds of peace!

Let bullets never fly – instead of birds

and may the sky remain crystal clear forever!

PEACE is light – a white canvas and let us draw together

white doves in flight and create joy in the World!

Translated by Yoana Konstantinova

Peace

author: Valentina Yordanova – Accordia (Bulgaria)

The word PEACE – three letters only.

A holy word – of great love.

With a breath of sweetness and freedom –

it is happiness for people around the world.

Comparable to a mother’s, a loving word –

 so gentle, warm and light-winged.

Carried in an echo – all over the world,

reaching far and wide.

May PEACE reign on earth forever!

May there be no wars – fear in tears!

Sad melodies – outpoured by weeping,

The earth soaked with pain and blood!

And may all nations be fraternal,

May their friendship – be the sun in tomorrow.

May white doves fly freely in the open air,

And may the expanse of heaven be as pure as dew.

The word PEACE encompasses the whole world –

from the blood of freedom the dawn was born,

to remain in the beautiful morning of the day.

Let us all together preserve peace!

May war be a ship that has sailed forever,

and may PEACE be a joyful tear in the world!

Translated by Yoana Konstantinova

My name is Valentina Yordanova, pseudonym – Accordia. Born I am in Mezdra, Bulgaria. By profession I am children teacher and psychologist. My poetry is sincere and deep expression of love, pain, dreams and personal experiences. Favorite theme of mine is love – tender, beautiful, sometimes painful. My style is figurative and lyrical – I paint with words emotional landscapes – this is my soul. Publications – in Bulgaria and abroad. I know children’s soul and write children’s poems.

MODAL VERBS. THE PECULIARITIES OF MODAL VERBS. EXPRESSIONS WITH MODAL VERBS.

Abduhalilova Sevdora Xayrulla qizi

Philology and Language Teaching English Language Major 25-26 group student  

abduhalilovasevdora500@gmail.com

Abstract

This article provides a comprehensive guide to modal auxiliary verbs, exploring their unique role in expressing ability, possibility, permission, and obligation in English. It explains the distinctive ways modal verbs like “can,” “could,” “may,” and “might” function to convey permission and ability, while verbs such as “must,” “have to,” “should,” and “ought to” express necessity and obligation. Common challenges, including past tense forms and question structures, are addressed with clear examples. Practical exercises help readers, from English learners to native speakers, master proper modal verb usage in both spoken and written communication.

Keywords: Modal verbs, English grammar, Auxiliary verbs.

Literature review

Modal verbs in English have been the focus of extensive research due to their intricate semantic, pragmatic, and structural characteristics. Hinkel (1995) observes that non-native speakers often use modal verbs in ways influenced by their first-language pragmatics, which leads to differences in usage compared to native speakers. In my opinion, this highlights how cultural and linguistic backgrounds shape language learning, emphasizing the need for tailored educational approaches that address such variations.

Similarly, Boyd and Thorne (2008) argue that the meaning of modal verbs is influenced by both semantics and the illocutionary force of speech acts, underscoring that effective communication requires more than mere grammatical accuracy. I find this perspective insightful, as it suggests that modals contribute subtly yet significantly to conversational intent, an essential concept for language learners to understand.

Further, Depraetere (2017) explores how contextual factors impact modal interpretation within the semantics-pragmatics interface. This complexity, in my view, underlines the importance of teaching students to consider context when using modals, rather than focusing solely on rigid grammatical rules.

Historically, the usage of modal verbs has evolved. Millar (2009), analyzing the TIME Magazine Corpus, observed a decline in traditional modal usage from the 1960s to the 1990s, with an increase in semi-modals influenced by shifts in stylistic preferences. This trend, in my opinion, mirrors broader social changes that favor informality in communication. Biber (2004) further supports this view by noting genre-specific shifts and a rise in semi-modals in modern corpora, which demonstrates the adaptability of language in response to changing communication norms.

Diver (2015) also examines historical patterns, revealing a shift in distinctions between past and non-past modal forms over time. In my opinion, these findings emphasize the fluidity of language, reminding us that grammatical constructs are not static but evolve alongside cultural shifts.

From a pedagogical perspective, Iranmanesh and Motallebikia (2015) compared task-based language teaching (TBLT) with traditional methods, discovering that TBLT enhanced learners’ understanding of specific modals, particularly can. This approach, in my opinion, aligns with modern learners’ needs, as context-based teaching tends to be more effective than rote memorization. Similarly, Kennedy (2002) utilizes the British National Corpus to advocate for contextualized strategies in teaching modals, which I believe help students grasp practical usage in real-life contexts

Cross-linguistic studies also enrich our understanding of modality. Wurmbrand (2000) challenges traditional syntactic interpretations by arguing that both epistemic and root modals could be considered raising verbs. Personally, I find Wurmbrand’s view refreshing, as it encourages a re-evaluation of conventional classifications. Kehayov and Torn-Leesik (2009), through their study of Balto-Finnic modals, illustrate the diversity of modality across languages, highlighting how other linguistic systems can provide valuable insights into English modal studies.

Additionally, Guéron (1970), in her work explores how modals interact with tense to convey complex temporal relationships. This perspective, in my opinion, is essential for understanding how modals reflect not only certainty or obligation but also specific time frames within a conversation. Guéron’s approach underscores the temporal depth of modal verbs, revealing them as versatile tools for indicating when events may or should occur.

In conclusion, the literature demonstrates that modal verbs in English serve complex semantic and pragmatic functions, have evolved significantly over time, and are best taught through contextualized approaches. The insights from cross-linguistic research further underscore the global relevance of modality. Future studies could continue exploring how specific contexts influence modal usage, particularly in specialized and evolving language environments. For educators and learners, these findings emphasize the importance of understanding modals as both grammatically and culturally dynamic elements, enhancing the richness of language learning and communication.

Methodology

This corpus analysis is complemented by an in-depth literature review, synthesizing key research on modality’s role in cross-linguistic contexts, semantic interpretation, and evolving communicative norms. Observations were made on how modality varies between formal and informal settings and across regional dialects, with specific focus on common challenges faced by language learners, such as distinctions in formality and the use of modal verbs to express obligation, permission, and possibility. This combined methodology aims to provide a holistic understanding of the evolving function of modals in English and to highlight effective teaching approaches that contextualize modal usage for learners.

Discussion

The complex nature of modal auxiliary verbs brings us to a point where theory and practice meet. Our analysis shows that modal verbs do more than serve as grammar tools. They build vital bridges between what we intend to say and how we express it in English.

Modal verbs show remarkable flexibility in different situations. These language elements adapt to many communication needs but keep their basic grammar roles intact. This adaptability stands out in professional settings where choosing between formal and informal modal expressions can make a big difference in how well we communicate.

Modern English shows some interesting patterns in how modal verbs have changed. Here are the main developments we see today:

People ask for permission more casually

Traditional modal differences are mixing together

More people accept different ways of expression

Digital communication uses simpler patterns

Different regions have different priorities

Learning about modal verbs needs more than just memorizing rules and patterns. Context plays a big role in picking the right modal expressions. This matters even more in cross-cultural communication where modal verb choices can change how people understand messages.

Traditional boundaries between some modal categories have become more flexible. Take ‘can’ and ‘may’ for example – their formal differences are changing when people ask for permission. Language keeps changing this way, but knowing the traditional rules still matters for formal communication.

Modal verbs and their alternatives tell an interesting story. Modal auxiliaries remain basic to English expression, but other ways of saying things work better now in some situations. This change doesn’t make modal verbs less important. Instead, it gives speakers and writers more options.

People who use modal verbs strategically in professional settings communicate better. Knowing how to switch between different levels of formality through modal verbs has become a key skill in today’s workplace communication.

Modal verbs keep changing but still play their essential role in English grammar. They adapt to new communication needs, which shows how language stays dynamic, even in basic grammar.

Conclusion

Modal verbs are key building blocks of English grammar that help us express ability, possibility, permission, and obligation. These unique elements have special grammatical patterns and play a vital role in our daily communication. These versatile auxiliaries work well in both formal and informal settings and help us direct different social and professional situations.

When we use modal verbs correctly, our communication becomes more precise and clear. Our analysis of common mistakes and real-world uses shows how becoming skilled at these auxiliaries helps us express ourselves better in written and spoken English. Native speakers and language learners find these tools invaluable because they work in many different situations.

Modern language keeps changing, but modal verbs keep their basic grammatical roles. These verbs remain crucial in professional environments, academic writing, and everyday talks. Their lasting importance proves their value in English communication. Knowing how to use modal verbs properly gives us the confidence to express ourselves accurately in any situation.

Reference:

Biber D. Modal use across registers and time //Topics in English Linguistics. – 2004. – Т. 45. – С. 189-216.

Boyd J., Thorne J. P. The semantics of modal verbs //Journal of linguistics. – 1969. – Т. 5. – №. 1. – С. 57-74.

Depraetere I. On the pragmatics of modal verbs //Selected papers on theoretical and applied linguistics. – 2017. – Т. 22. – С. 14-26.

Diver W. The modal system of the English verb //Word. – 1964. – Т. 20. – №. 3. – С. 322-352.

Guéron J. On the temporal function of modal verbs //Time and modality. – 2008. – С. 143-172.

Hinkel E. The use of modal verbs as a reflection of cultural values //TESOL quarterly. – 1995. – Т. 29. – №. 2. – С. 325-343.

Iranmanesh H., Motallebikia S. M. Teaching Modal Verbs: Task-based vs. Traditional approaches //International Journal of Foreign Language Teaching and Research. – 2015. – Т. 3. – №. 11. – С. 39-46.

Kehayov P., Torn-Leesik R. 11. Modal verbs in Balto-Finnic //Modals in the languages of Europe: A reference work. – 2009. – Т. 44. – С. 363.

Kennedy G. Variation in the distribution of modal verbs in the British National Corpus //Using corpora to explore linguistic variation. – 2002. – Т. 9. – С. 73.

Millar N. Modal verbs in TIME: Frequency changes 1923–2006 //International journal of corpus linguistics. – 2009. – Т. 14. – №. 2. – С. 191-220.

Wurmbrand S. Modal verbs must be raising verbs //Proceedings of WCCFL. – 1999. – Т. 18. – №. 1.

In Rus Khomutoff’s Kaos Karma, meaning shimmers just out of sight, on the edge of a colorful, nebulous atmosphere. 

The book contains a collection of under 20 poems, each presented entirely in bold capital letters. Each word thus carries equal weight and all come together to create a sonic and imagistic impression. 

Certain themes and phrases recur throughout the book. We see words like “chaos” (or “kaos”), “ghostflesh,” “technoromance,” “love,” and “sacrifice” in multiple poems. This pulls out motifs of the collection: spirituality and the odd/paranormal, imagination and dreaming, emotions and the quest for human connection. 

The title, Kaos Karma subverts the concept of logical cause and effect and consequences of one’s actions. Instead of tracing one’s present circumstances or future destiny to one’s own choices, human experience seems much less linear.

Yet, chaos does not imply a nihilistic void, empty of all reason or meaning. The mathematical concept of chaos theory involves self-organizing natural systems whose development seems random but which may well be tied to initial conditions we do not fully understand. 

In a similar vein, Rus Khomutoff’s Kaos Karma is built around motifs that permeate its atmosphere. These suggest layers of feelings and impressions that approach meanings while intriguing and tantalizing the senses. 

Worth a read. 

Rus Khomutoff’s Kaos Karma will be published soon from C22 Press. https://c22press.wordpress.com/open-editions/

Book may be ordered here.

Be healthy for our happiness, dear teacher

May your precious head be safe and sound,

May every morsel you eat be pure and blessed.

May the tears in your eyes stay hidden,

We always bow to you with respect —

Be healthy for our happiness, dear teacher.

You truly deserve honor and esteem,

We humbly bow our heads before you.

You have done so much good for us,

We are always grateful to you —

Be healthy for our happiness, dear teacher.

May you guide us at every moment,

May our path stay bright and clear.

Sincere wishes and heartfelt prayers —

We always acknowledge your kindness,

Be healthy for our happiness, dear teacher.

Avazova Diyora Alisher girl was born on July 17, 2007, in Kitob district, Kashkadarya region. She graduated from School No. 91 with a Gold Medal for her excellent academic performance, diligence, exemplary behavior, and initiative.

She is currently a member of the Kashkadarya Regional Youth Parliament’s Active Members team and a volunteer of the “Golden Wing” movement. She holds numerous international certificates and is a member of “JUNTOS POR LAS LETRAS” and the Global Friends Club. She has been awarded the “Best Promoter” certificate twice.

Her poems and articles have been published in Kenya, Uzbekistan, Egypt, Turkey, and several other international and local publishing houses. She is a graduate of the “Diamond Girls” project and won 2nd place in the “Initiator of the Year — 2024” competition. She is also a participant in the G4G program designed for girls.

She was a delegate of the “2024 Asia–Pacific Young Leaders Summit” and an official delegate of the Istanbul International Model United Nations. She serves as the Azerbaijan coordinator of the Shishu Ullash organization and is an official delegate of the “Future Office” Season 2.

She holds more than 50 international certificates. She is an official member of the “Towards Leadership” project and actively participates in various projects and competitions. She is a delegate of “ELEVATE MUN,” Deputy Head of Media Literacy at the “Yuksak Parvozim” Young Creators Movement, and coordinator of “Umid Yo‘gdusi.” She is also featured in the “Young Leaders” Encyclopedia.

Literary traditions and renewal processes in Uzbek literature and world literature

Abstract: This article covers the issues of the historical development of Uzbek literature and world literature, the preservation of their literary traditions and a comparative analysis of the processes of renewal. In Uzbek literature, the role of such creators as Alisher Navoi, Zahiriddin Muhammad Babur, Abdulla Qodiriy in continuing traditions and at the same time introducing new ideas into literature is examined. From world literature, comparative aspects with the work of such great writers as William Shakespeare, Leo Tolstoy, and Franz Kafka are revealed. The article analyzes the harmony of literary heritage and modern creative innovations, the relationship between national literatures, and their contribution to global literary processes on a scientifically based basis. It also discusses the integration of Uzbek literature of the period of independence with world literature and the formation of the translation school.

Keywords: Uzbek literature, world literature, tradition, renewal, comparative analysis, creativity, modernism, realism, cultural integration, national heritage, literary process.

Literature is one of the oldest and most influential forms of human thought. The literature of each nation reflects its national thinking, psyche, socio-spiritual state. Therefore, the study of the interaction and connections between Uzbek literature and world literature, the analysis of their traditional and new aspects is a separate, relevant scientific topic today.

During the period of independence, Uzbek literature has reached a new stage of development. On the one hand, our classical literary heritage is being re-examined, and on the other hand, advanced experiences in world literature are being absorbed into Uzbek literature. This process is further enriched by the fact that the works of Uzbek writers are being translated into world languages, and examples of world literature are being published in Uzbek.

Classical literature: The traditions of classical Eastern literature were continued in the work of Alisher Navoi. However, he also initiated a stage of renewal with his approach based on the Turkic language.

Babur: a vivid example of the harmony of tradition and innovation in literature. His work “Boburnoma” combines historical, artistic and scientific features.

20th century literature: National realism and modernist movements were combined in the works of Abdulla Qodiriy and Cholpon.

Shakespeare: Continuing the traditions of the Renaissance, he created new dramatic forms.

Leo Tolstoy: through Russian realism, he interpreted humanity, morality and social issues in a new way.

Kafka: was the embodiment of modernism, depicting the conflicts between man and society.

Comparative analysis:

Navoiy and Shakespeare: although one reached the pinnacle of Eastern and one Western classical literature, both of them covered the problems of the human psyche and society.

Qodiriy and Tolstoy: there is a commonality in depicting the spiritual image of the nation and social problems through realism.

Cholpon and Kafka: both created in the spirit of modernism and tried to express the spiritual crisis of the time.

In conclusion, although Uzbek literature and world literature have their own traditions and renewal processes, through their comparative study, one can see many commonalities and harmonies. Uzbek literature, relying on its rich classical heritage, is also actively participating in modern global literary processes. Therefore, a deep study of literary traditions and the integration of innovations with the national spirit will remain one of the important tasks of future scientific research and creative activity.

References:

1. Navoiy A. Khamsa. – Tashkent: Fan, 1991.
2. Bobur Z.M. Baburnoma. – Tashkent: Gafur Ghulom Publishing House, 2008
3. Qodiriy A. Bygone Days.- Tashkent: Sharq, 1994
4. Cholpon A. Night and Day.- Tashkent: Literature and Art, 1992
5. Shakespeare U. Hamlet. – London, 1603
6. Tolstoy L. Anna Karenina – Moscow: Science 1978
7. Kafka F. Process. – Berlin, 1925
8. Karimov I. A. High spirituality is an invincible force. – Tashkent, 2021
9. Mirziyoyev. Sh.M. Strategy of the New Uzbekistan. – Tashkent, 2021.
10. History of Uzbek literature. 5 volumes – Tashkent: Science, 2010.
11. Saidov. A. Theory of Literary Studies. – Tashkent University, 2015

Choriyeva Go’zal Gayratjon qizi was born on February 17, 2007 in Kyzyryk district of Surkhandarya region. She is a 1st year student of the Denov Institute of Entrepreneurship and Pedagogy of Samarkand State University, Uzbek language and literature department and holder of a national certificate in native language literature. She is an international ambassador of the Indian state Iqra Foundation Organization (online) in three areas. An active member of the Argentine Association of Science and Literature Writers. The creative collection “Zukko izvlavi” -2025 of the Republic of Uzbekistan and Karakalpakstan has been published.

Being Successful in Professional Communication

In today’s era of globalization and increasing competition, not only a person’s knowledge and skills matter, but also their ability to communicate effectively and respectfully. In any field, the key to success lies in the ability to speak clearly, precisely, and sincerely. Especially in professional settings, communication is not merely a way of exchanging ideas—it has become a measure of one’s reputation, credibility, and competence.

Professional communication is not just about talking; it is a purposeful, clear, and culturally appropriate exchange of ideas. Every specialist—whether a teacher, doctor, engineer, journalist, or entrepreneur—must know how to express thoughts effectively, listen attentively, and maintain mutual respect during conversation. Today’s job market demands not only knowledge but also strong communicative competence.

It is important to remember that in every conversation, persuasive speech, positive emotions, a respectful tone, and good manners play a crucial role. A successful communicator is someone who can empathize, putting themselves in another’s position, and who expresses ideas not only through words but also through gestures, eye contact, and tone of voice.

Modern technology has transformed the way we communicate. Emails, messengers, and online meetings have become new arenas for professional interaction. In this context, understanding information culture, ethics, and digital etiquette is of great importance.

Therefore, to succeed in professional communication, a person must:

express their thoughts clearly and concisely;

possess good listening skills;

respect their interlocutor;

be able to resolve issues through dialogue;

use modern communication tools appropriately.

Communication is one of the greatest powers that defines humanity. Those who can direct it wisely will achieve success in any team and in any field.

Author is Dinora Sodiqova, a student at Termez State University.