Noble

The name of the Noble is very famous,

The stir also varies, the quality is also full.

Noble -In the quality of the job & purpose,

“With the good will of the behavior of the use,”

Move in the pearl method.

To create a beautiful chain,

In the display of the chain, the rules of the chain,

The stars are also expanded in the thought,

In the description of magnanimous generosity,

In destiny in the inflamed shrimp,

In setting the example in infinity.

The family exemplifies the “Noble Family”,

In the mutual respect of each member of the family It will be possible.

Noble mentality, noble presentation,

Noble dedication,

Noble expression should create noble looking.

Noble’s touch in Smartness,

To handle yourself at the noble.

To keep yourself wrapped in the noble,

whole life lives in noble

Amb. Dr. Priyanka Neogi from Coochbehar. She is an administrative Controller of the United Nations PAF, librarian, CEO of Lio Messi International Property & land Consultancy, international literacy worker, sports & peace promoter, dancer, singer, reciter, live telecaster, writer, editor, researcher, Literary journalist, host, beauty queen, international Co-ordinator of Vijay Mission of Community Welfare Foundation of India.

SEIZE THE MOMENT! 

As hands and feet lift from the ground, 

The Sun wraps Night in its golden shroud. 

In Ramadan, secrets are found, 

As Laylat al-Qadr shines,

Moon-bowed… Seize the moment!

Live it bright! 

Let moments merge in sacred light! 

Verses stream in luminous flow, 

To hearts that love, in whispers low… 

As you strive, defeating desire, 

You rise beyond, your soul so higher. 

Angels murmur in hushed refrain, 

You dissolve into the cosmic plane… 

Blessed be Laylat al-Qadr, my Friend, 

Blessed the night where hearts ascend!

 Every gift from the Divine, so bright, 

Is the crown upon our heads—pure light!

Shamsiya Khudoynazarova Turumovna (February 15, 1973) was born in Uzbekistan. Studied at the Faculty of Journalism of Tashkent State University (1992-1998). She took first place in the competition of young republican poets (1999). Four collections of poems have been published in Uzbekistan: “Leaf of the Heart” (1998), “Roads to You” (1998), “The Sky in My Chest” (2007), “Lovely Melodies” (2013). She wrote poetry in more than ten genres. She translated some Russian and Turkish poets into Uzbek, as well as a book by YunusEmro. She lived as a political immigrant with her family for five years in Turkey.

Choke 

Sometimes, I get that pain again

Choke with deeply desired gain

Drown helpless under torrid rain

Life shackled, mind empty drain

You care much, heart’s in strain

Offer heaven, but hands in chain

Filled up to squeezing tight brain

Forget the balance you did train

Wishing power not just for vain

The love for family is the main

Resetting desire to normal plain

Release, reality again explain.

Fidelity

Fiery red droplets of your blood

See how they warm my frozen heart

On the Greek’s golden fleece, they flood

Passions never to fall apart

Beelzebub has curdled your blood

Death and Chaos have torn your heart

The golden fleece, dark clouds did flood

Misery’s broken us apart

Let Courage flow free in your blood

Let Love reside inside your heart

Let Hope drown your despair in flood

Let Trust reunite what’s apart

Fiery red droplets of my blood

See how they heal your broken heart

Siris’ juice, Zeus’ feast shall flood Jericho’s wall, we tore apart

Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa was born January 14, 1965, in Manila Philippines. She has worked as a retired Language Instructor, interpreter, caregiver, secretary, product promotion employee, and private therapeutic masseur. Her works have been published as poems and short story anthologies in several language translations for e-magazines, monthly magazines, and books; poems for cause anthologies in a Zimbabwean newspaper; a feature article in a Philippine newspaper; and had her works posted on different poetry web and blog sites. She has been writing poems since childhood but started on Facebook only in 2014. For her, Poetry is life and life is poetry.

Lilian Kunimasa considers herself a student/teacher with the duty to learn, inspire, guide, and motivate others to contribute to changing what is seen as normal into a better world than when she steps into it. She has always considered life as an endless journey, searching for new goals, and challenges and how she can in small ways make a difference in every path she takes. She sees humanity as one family where each one must support the other and considers poets as a voice for Truth in pursuit of Equality and proper Stewardship of nature despite the hindrances of distorted information and traditions.

The Entity

Give me a love sight

I’ll give you my world

You can build your love generation

Without any brick our love castle is magnetic 

As the two exiting northern and southern hemisphere

Our emblazing heart will sleep in peace for years in grave

When we will get up again, life’s another chapter will begin.

Give me your sweet laugh 

We discover the forever green atmosphere  

The leaves swing in the breeze by the river

Life is a bond

The entity of two makes one.

People dream for making a place in Mars 

It needs force to encounter the gravitation

We go forward leaving all the wastes behind

 From one to another planet

Our blink for the same mirror 

Nothing can smash the glass to look into the broken frame.

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh

12 June, 2025.

Md. Mahbubul Alam is from Bangladesh. His writer name is Mahbub John in Bangladesh. He is a Senior Teacher (English) of Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh. Chapainawabganj is a district town of Bangladesh. He is an MA in English Literature from Rajshahi College under National University. He has published three books of poems in Bangla. He writes mainly poems but other branches of literature such as prose, article, essay etc. also have been published in national and local newspapers, magazines, little magazines. He has achieved three times the Best Teacher Certificate and Crest in National Education Week in the District Wise Competition in Chapainawabganj District. He has gained many literary awards from home and abroad. His English writings have been published in Synchronized Chaos for seven years.

Before the Final March

Dear Love,

The stars shine too brightly here tonight—

just like they did the night we met.

The sky is calm, almost too calm,

as if it’s holding its breath for the storm to barge in.

And yet I lie here in the open,

savouring the silence for the first… and maybe the last time,

wishing you were beside me.

Life never seemed so precious until today.

We received word—we might not win.

Still, I promise you:

we’ll give it our all, even if it means giving up our lives.

And yet, the air doesn’t feel heavy.

Maybe it’s because I’m too light.

I may not live to see tomorrow’s night.

So, forgive me for spending every last precious second thinking of you—

so close in my heart, yet so far in reach.

Are you awake now?

Are you under the same sky,

looking at the stars the way I’m looking through them—searching for you?

I wish I’d memorized you better.

Your soft brown waves, how they used to fall across your eyes,

the way your laughter lingered on your lips after I kissed you—

those are the only things I’ll carry with me,

beyond the end.

Funny how I’ve bled in battle,

but nothing hurts like bleeding on paper.

But this—this letter—is my soul, laid bare for you.

Be strong, my darling.

Even when I’m gone, I’ll live in these folded lines,

watching from the stars,

guarding your smile.

It’s raining now.

Does time ever feel guilty for all it steals from us?

Maybe even the sky wants me to say goodbye.

If there is a life after this,

I’ll find you—I promise.

And I’ll spend forever making up for this stolen time.

Take care of my better half—

I’m leaving it with you.

I will always be close.

Always.

Adieu, love.

The tears that stain this page—

they are the only ones I’ve ever shed.

Not from sorrow…

but from joy—

that I had you, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Yours always,

One Man Army

The Girl Who Never Died

The grey sky wept louder than any crowds ever could.

A blackened coffin lay still beneath the withering roses.

No one mourns her but silence itself — the only one who ever knew her.

I stand by the grave, a stranger in my own story.

The girl in the coffin looks like me — only softer, calmer, stilled.

A shroud of sorrow, regrets, and betrayals hugs her tight.

I weep without tears — trust me, she’s done it all her life.

Her eulogy speaks of dreams made of broken, bloodied wings.

How do you mourn someone who still breathes beneath your skin?

She never asked for much — only to be seen, loved, and understood.

In return, she gave it all: her softest heart, its steady beats made of trust,

hope, empathy, and so much more.

But they cracked her open like porcelain —

her shattered pieces bled until there was no more.

Yet her smile never faltered…

until the world quietly erased it too.

So I bury her with every ‘sorry’ I never received.

I know she forgave — until she forgot herself completely.

Her eyes remain open wide with trust.

Mine — hollow.

I reach for my past self’s hand — one last time,

as a flower blooms, sealing wounds that once gaped wide.

The Earth closes above her… and I open within.

She died unknown, unheard —

but I rise from her ashes, stronger than ever.

“I won’t forget you,

but I will not become you again.

Rest now, far from pain.”

That’s all I say,

before I walk away.

Where Silence Begins

The days slipped by—slowly, steadily,

like raindrops tracing forgotten paths down a glass,

and all I could do was watch.

Time, silent and sharp as frost,

unfurled its shadowed wings,

stealing all I held close—

moments, faces, laughter lost to wind—

until nothing remained

but this hollow ache.

Empty.

Alone.

Afraid.

I don’t fight anymore.

I am tired—bone-deep, soul-worn tired.

Weary, like the moon, hollowed by sleepless nights.

Maybe…

it’s time for rest.

Not sleep, but something softer—

eternal, gentle rest.

So—adieu, my dearests, my darlings.

This is not where the story ends.

We will meet again,

somewhere beyond the bend of time,

where stardust sings and silence cradles the broken whole.

But for now,

I must go.

Time beckons like a tide that will not wait.

Let not your tears fall for me—

they ache deeper than you know,

like salt on an open wound.

As I sail toward the golden light,

a hush fills the sky.

I turn for one last glance—

the world a blur through tear-stained lashes—

and bless them

with all I have left—

and more.

“Goodbye,” I whisper,

as my hand slips from theirs…

And I drift—

not falling, not flying—

just fading,

into the abyss.

Unknown.

Unspoken.

Unheard.

But never… unloved.

The Value of a Life

. . . the wellsprings of creative phantasy 
which make life worth living.— Anthony Storr

What makes it worth the mocking 
of what you cannot have,
the fog of what you cannot know,
the mortality of what you love,
the meanness of humanity?

Many say “Love”
but do not believe it.
Others say “God”;
few become saints.
Some say “Humankind,”
but they litter history with corpses.

Then someone gives it a name,
and it shines bright above you,
a lamp of enamel and gold.
Or, far away, it sings,

drawing you down a nave
toward the shadows
of the choir, the carved 
panels above the sanctuary
and the tomb of your fathers.

It is a fairy tale 
you tell yourself in the night
against the treacherous body, 
a broken bell that coughs like a patient
warning you of questions you cannot answer,

against the night flies dancing in the beam
of a weak flashlight
as you walk, from darkness
through darkness toward darkness,
toward a point of light small as a star in the black woods.

_____

Christopher Bernard’s book The Socialist’s Garden of Verses won a PEN Oakland Josephine Miles Award and was named one of the “Top 100 Indie Books of 2021” by Kirkus Reviews.

The souls of the Jadids are eternally in our hearts 

Mardonova Marjona Muhsin kizi

Student of Polytechnic No. 1

Tel number:998-94-326-58-50

Abstract:

This article talks about the selfless Jadids who fought for the people, showed that science is an important factor, and raised the flag of the homeland to the skies. Who are the Jadids themselves? What did they do? Why are they called Jadids? These questions are not relevant for the Uzbek people, because the people of Uzbekistan highly respect their ancestors. The bravery and heroism they did in our past are immortalized in epic books in different languages. It is not difficult to learn from their lives that the Jadids would not have survived even death for the homeland during their lives. Most Jadids died early from this life, while some faced death in the very prime of their lives. But they died early not from death, but for the foundation of the homeland. Of course, these terrible events can shake the human heart, but we must understand that they wanted us to speak their names on our tongues, not with tears, but with pride. That is why the Uzbek people keep the souls of the Jadids in their hearts forever.

Keywords:

Jadids, enlightenment, spirituality, progress, reforms, people, self-sacrifice, science, struggle, commerce, generation, cultural heritage, research, prosperity

Introduction:

It is not for nothing that we named the title of this article as the souls of the Jadids are eternal in our hearts. Today, let’s bring together the Jadids who fought and strived for our current peaceful life. True, there are so many of them that if we wanted to write about them, we would create a book, but we will cite a few.

1. Mahmudkhoj Behbudiy, one of the founders of the Jadids, was one of the representatives of his people with a number of books, articles, and poems.

 2. Abdulla Avloni, one of the representatives of the Jadids, a poet, a teacher, an enlightener of the Shura period and a number of other creative figures

3. Shepherd, a national artist of Uzbekistan

These are the founders of the Jadid school. Selfless heroes who fought for the homeland

1. Jaloliddin Manguberdi

2. Amir Temur

3. Zahiriddin Muhammad Babur

Our scientific and writer ancestors

1. Alisher Navoi

2. Abu Ali ibn Sino

3. Hamza Hakimzoda Niyozi

These are just representatives of the Uzbek people, how many more of our ancestors fought for Uzbeks.

Main part:

Thousands of heroes around the world fought for their homeland, their names are sealed in books, we can only read about their heroic deeds in books because they fought for our prosperity and independence. If we write thousands of articles and books for them, we must show them again and again for the younger generation that they are still with us, and this is necessary, regardless of what nationality we are from.

Conclusion:

We, the youth of Uzbekistan, will never tire of showing the world the bravery of our Jadids, and this is our duty. This article was written about the Jadids of Uzbekistan. Let us be grateful to them for the peace and prosperity of our homeland, which the Jadids have done for us. The souls of the Jadids are eternal in our hearts

References:

1. B. B. Islamov – Jadids and enlightenment

2. Sadriddin Ayni – Esdalik (memories)

3. Khurshid Davron – Jadid