Essay from Zubayda Tursunboyeva

Young Central Asian woman with short straight dark hair, brown eyes, earrings, and a white collared top.

Poetess of the Heart — Zulfiya

Zulfiya’s poetry brings a sense of calm and peace to the human heart. In every line of her verses, love, loyalty, and a deep affection for life are embodied. Her poems reveal the delicate emotions of a woman’s soul and reflect the simple yet profoundly important truths of life.

The most common themes in Zulfiya’s works are love, devotion, love for the Motherland, and peace. While reading her poems, a person finds an opportunity to listen to their inner feelings and to better understand life and human emotions.

Zulfiya wrote many well-known poems. For example, the poem “My Son, There Must Be No War” expresses a mother’s inner pain, her fear for her child, and her longing for a peaceful life. Poems such as “Devotion” and “Spring in the Heart” call people toward kindness, patriotism, and faithfulness.

Zulfiya Isroilova is a poetess who brought light into the human soul through her poetry. Her works have not lost their significance even today. The poetess’s writings encourage young people to grow up kind, patriotic, and humane.

Isroilova is a unique poetess who illuminated hearts and awakened emotions with her words. While reading her lines, the reader not only gains information but also deeply feels the subtle aspects of life, human experiences, and valuable lessons. In my opinion, Zulfiya’s creativity encourages us to better understand ourselves and the world around us.

Poetry from David Kokoette

REBEL – THE POEM 

I have become the wretched of the earth 

Like frantz fanon, I am persecuted

A subject of intentional discrimination 

Judged by humans through the lenses of my creator 

I hide in between the bushes 

I seek asylum from Heaven 

But no one answers 

The sky watches, the earth witnesses 

How do I advance?

I see yet i am blind 

My intuition and wisdom is the strength 

The wind and the morning breeze scares me

Water becomes like Poison 

Food becomes like venomous 

My life is one big battle 

I have become a stepping stone 

I have become a test subject for hatred

I have become like a lab rat 

Like Hitler did Jews 

The earth kills me……….

THEY HAVE ENTERED OBA’S PALACE 

The revolution happened late at night 

The monarch laid in sleep

The unskilled gained access to the factories 

A great cry was heard as the place doors were broken 

A thief from the street has mobilized its kind 

The silk from India has become common 

Like Mensa Musa’s accumulated wealth 

The value of gold has dropped 

Easy…. it comes

The unskilled has besieged the gateway of luxury 

Everyone has a shot at the throne 

Unskilled and an opportunist 

The palace has been desecrated 

Centuries of legacy has been soiled 

The peek hole has become a full view 

The guard screams……

They have entered the Oba’s palace 

Poetry from J.K. Durick

In Control

How far away can we be,

How remote, how little

Involved? At some point

Distance became an issue

And involvement followed.

I haven’t opened or closed

Our garage door in years. As

If the simple twist of a wrist

And a tug were things I gave

Up on purpose. I haven’t had

To stand by the TV to adjust it,

Change the station, volume or

Brightness. I start the car, hot

Days and cold, in the living room

No need to face the temperature.

The car can do that without me.

I have become more and more

Remote, the guy pushing buttons

And telling electronics what I want

“Play my playlist, ‘Opera’ Alexa”

And she does. “Pause.” “Order

This one, order that.” I’m becoming

A voice that speaks in an empty

Room to an electronic device, an

Inert being waiting for all these to

Act for me – my more and more

Remote self.

                       The List

Let’s see, there’s broccoli and carrots

On the list, along with celery and limes

And there’s grapes and lemons There’s

Potatoes, of course, russet it says, but to

Me they’re all the same or look the same.

I’ve spent too much time and money here

In the produce section and haven’t even

Got to the wine section or the rice section

Then the bread, then V8 and oh yes stuffing

And brown sugar. The list keeps me on the

Move getting in my steps, and I still have to

Get to the canned vegetables and frozen spinach.

The list reminds me of what we eat and how we

Eat – peel, chop up, mix, strain, put on the stove

Or in, and then we wait for it to be done and served.

There’s nothing left for me to imagine about all

This hum-drum part of my day, of my life – no

Hunting, no cleaning out and dragging, or dressing

Our kill. There are no fields to plant or tend, no

Harvest to bring in. No, I am a creature of habit

A creature following a cart up and down the aisles

A creature who follows a list as if his life, or at least

His dinner depended on it.

    A Poem

Wanted a poem

Got a paragraph.

It happens –

All those years

All those comp

Classes, classes

As far as the eye

Could see

At the time

And now

They haunt me

When I write

A poem and I’m

Thinking thesis

Statements, intros

Conclusions

Summing up

What was said

Nothing metaphoric

Nothing left to

Readers to get

Or add to.

Comp classes

We have to begin

Somewhere and

There we were

And now

Here I am

Stuck in freshman

Comp pretending

To be a poet.

Poetry from John Edward Culp

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I'll wet my Ankles &
   Slip in
      To my knees 

A pool has my Heart.
   Moonlight shattered 
     in the 
       Reflected shimmer.
A mouth of a fish thinks I'm 
   dropping bait
    or just, 
  Says Hello.

I don't talk fish tonight.
  I'll just be careful because 
   there are more
       than fish in this pool.

The Air Laughs 
           at my arrogance
by Brushing
  the leaves above my sight. 

A star needs for nothing, 
         sufficient of itself.
I volunteer for an
   adventure before 
     even knowing what it
            is.
I cannot leave my Heart behind. 
                   .....................................


Written February 3, 2026
  Tuesday Morning 
by  John Edward Culp

 All Rights Reserved 




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Essay from Mohammad Sedigh Haghighi

​The Architecture of the Gray Soul

​Introduction

​Countless humans have lived on Earth—those who formed the past, those in the present, and those who will shape the future. Every person thinks, learns, and acts differently from one another. The settings of the human mind are all personalized by the environment in which one grows up, the micro-details of their life, and so on. Man Is the source of all thoughts, religions, and political systems (Democracy, Authoritarianism, and Totalitarianism).

​All the destruction that has happened in the world, the progress and the good that have occurred, the industrial revolutions, the inventions, and the books that have been written are the work of humans. All good and evil have been created by us, humans; the first spark of thought was ignited by our minds, and we put it into action. May we, as humans, be the cause of goodness in this black-and-white world, and may we allow the white to prevail over the darkness. But let us remember: to change the world, we must first turn the darkness that has engulfed our own being into light.

​The Body

​How can everything be so cold and soulless? Lack of purpose creates a lack of motivation, and a lack of motivation makes the mind ill and depressed. What in this world can make us happy and purposeful? Money, wealth, fame, or a cup of coffee, a little water, and a book or a film to watch? I do not know If these are related or not, but when you do not feel yourself, it is as if you have no existence. Truly, what are we doing here? Do we have any impact on this gray and black world?

​Humans are slaves to other humans; great pyramids of people who are slaves to others. This is the system of today’s societies. With every step we take, we touch the darkness and the dust that has surrounded us all with our entire being. Routine and a lack of creativity have become natural for people. If someone wants to be different, people cannot tolerate them. Who implemented this system in the world? Have the great capitalists forced people to be like robots? Have they promoted those without talent—who reach positions through buffoonery and mockery—to create entertainments so that people see no need for any change In themselves?

​I fear the day I want to do something, but the result fails for completely absurd reasons. Fear sometimes makes us feel terrible for any reason. Fear is like a monster that we always want to avoid facing, lest that monster destroys us. Most people consider themselves free of fear, but no one is honest about this. Even the bravest people have a very deep fear hidden in a corner of their heart. Those who run away from their fear instead of accepting and living with It will eventually, as I said, be swallowed by fear like a monster.

​How is happiness created within us? By gaining money, wealth, status, or eating our favorite food? Note that if a person has all of these but feels empty, how can the issue of happiness and being glad return to their mental and intellectual state? The more humble and educated a person is, the more their sense of happiness can differ from someone who gambles and spends their day drinking alcohol.

​I do not know what is right or wrong. What is life? Where is our goal? What does our nationality define within us? What identity do races and ethnicities give us? These only form part of the confusion of our minds. Why should someone be in the best place on this planet while another is in the worst? How and in what way was this boundary between individuals created? Where did grudge, envy, hypocrisy, and narcissism come from? Certainly, even the greatest scientists do not have correct answers to these questions and give cliché answers like: “These were all created by God…”

​Very well, most of us believe in a higher power, but who Is there to answer us directly? True, if we think correctly, we ourselves are responsible for finding an answer for ourselves. Now, this answer will be determined according to our way of thinking and the goal we believe in. That is, all answers can be correct, but truly, which one Is “more” correct?

Poetry from Opeyemi Oluwayomi

Tomorrow is a million reasons to be alive

After Chinua Ezenwa-Ohaeto

Today may end without all in my

heart gathered in my hands,

but my heart does not grow

ennui. My heart does not grow

ennui, because I believe in tomorrow

—& I give thanks because I still have

life in me. I believe in tomorrow,

because the sky will be accessible,

again. I will reach for it & it won’t deny

me. I will hover around like birds

& I won’t be deprived of the beauty

of the sky we all own. I believe in

tomorrow, because the sun, too, 

will come again. I will reach for it & it 

won’t deny me. Tomorrow is a promise 

for a dream that never ceases

to show up, like dawn. Tomorrow is a

million reasons to be alive. 

Together we make firewood 

In the beginning was love, & the love was

with us, & the love was us. The same love we were laid upon. We wouldn’t have laid the foundation in the absence of love. And if we do, we will pick our remains, 

scattered all over the earth the day the wind blows. The night a tinge of her love got into me, I had no holes in me, & so, I did not leak like a basket. Instead, I held it close & let it seep into every edge of my soul, for a quiet enrichment of the parts that long for her. I am aware that she has settled in me the same way salt settles in soup. I admit love is a flame because my heart is burning, & I am aware that together we made the firewood. I admit love is as essential as air, because it keeps me whole. Today, as this love burns, let the fire increase day by day, let not our nakedness quench its furnace.

Opeyemi Oluwayomi is a violinist, a graphics designer, a member of Hilltop Creative Art Foundation, a final year English & Literary student of University of Ibadan. His works have appeared or are forthcoming on Eye to the Telescope, Heart of Flesh Literary Journal, Ink Sweat & Tears, Spillwords, Brittle Paper, Shallow Tales Review, Ekstasis Magazine, Eboquil Magazine, SpringNG, and elsewhere. He was the second-runner-up winner of the Shuzia Poetry Competition, 2023 (Journey of the Soul), shortlisted for IS&T’s Pick of the Month, 2025. He holds NCE in English & Music, from Federal College of Education, Abeokuta. Social media handles: Joseph O. Oluwayomi

Essay from Sevara Joraqulova

Young Central Asian woman with long dark hair in a ponytail and a ruffled white blouse.

An Analysis of Aleksandr Faynberg’s Poem “Motherland”

Abstract:

This article is devoted to the analysis of Aleksandr Faynberg’s poems dedicated to Uzbekistan, particularly the poem “Motherland.” The study reveals the poet’s loyalty and deep love for Uzbek culture and nature. The simplicity of people’s lives and the depiction of national values occupy a central place in the poems. Faynberg’s creative approach based on realism, as well as the role of his translations in creating a cultural bridge between Uzbek and Russian literature, are thoroughly analyzed.

Key words: Aleksandr Faynberg, Uzbekistan, image of the Motherland, nature, poem, analysis, culture, national values.

Aleksandr Arkadyevich Faynberg was born on November 2, 1939, in the city of Tashkent. His parents moved to Tashkent from Novosibirsk two years before his birth. His father, Arkadiy Lvovich Faynberg (1891–1971), originally from Gatchina, graduated from the Institute of Technology and worked as a chief engineer at a спирт factory. His mother, Anastasia Aleksandrovna (born in 1904), was born in Moscow and worked as a machinist at the same factory.

After finishing a seven-year school, Arkadiy entered the Tashkent Topography Technical School. After graduating, he served in the military in Tajikistan. In 1965, he graduated from Tashkent State University, studying by correspondence at the Faculty of Journalism within the Faculty of Philology, and worked for a student newspaper.

Faynberg’s poems about the Motherland were compared with similar works by other Uzbek poets. The poet’s contribution to Uzbek culture and the literary environment, as well as his poetic approach and imagery, were analyzed comparatively. This analysis helps to identify the uniqueness of his creative work and his place in the literary process of Uzbekistan.

In the poem “Motherland,” the image of the land is depicted with great intensity. Faynberg portrays his homeland vividly through images of a sunny land, rectangular fields, mountain ranges, roads, and poplar trees standing like domes. These descriptions reflect the geographical and aesthetic features of Uzbekistan:

From sunny rectangular fields

To mountain ranges stretching afar,

Roads spinning like a whirlwind,

Dome-like poplars standing in rows.

In the opening lines, the diversity of Uzbekistan’s climate and relief is emphasized. The fields symbolize cultivated lands, while the mountain ranges represent the country’s mountainous regions.

The poem contains real-life experience. The author poetically reflects his youth spent measuring land:

I walked the fields step by step,

Carrying a theodolite, measuring the plots.

These lines recall Faynberg’s engagement with engineering and topography.

The poet also depicts the simplicity of Uzbek life, highlighting the openness and hospitality of the people:

I drank chalob in clay-plastered houses,

Courtyards without doors, always open.

At the end of the poem, feelings of national pride and a strong bond with the Motherland are powerfully expressed:

A kind land. Here lies my lineage —

My soil and fate are in Uzbekistan.

The line “Oh, Europe! I do not even know you” reflects the poet’s cultural identification. He rejects the West because his true homeland is Uzbekistan.

The poem “Motherland” is one of the most expressive examples of Faynberg’s creativity, embodying his national identity, devotion to his homeland, and life experience. His poetry is realistic, profound, and imbued with national spirit.

Another poem vividly portrays everyday life:

It brings peace to the soul

When you gaze at nature’s face.

Stone huts, clay-plastered roofs

Run down toward the riverbanks.

The opening lines depict the calm and beauty of the homeland’s nature, evoking a sense of peace and comfort. Details such as stone huts and clay roofs reflect the simplicity and naturalness of rural life.

The image of the teahouse keeper appears as a symbolic figure who satisfies people’s daily needs and provides spiritual comfort. The teahouse is portrayed not merely as a place to drink tea, but as a center of cultural communication.

The same shelves, the same plates,

A generous table on the low dining stand.

These lines present traditional aspects of Uzbek life: cooking by the bride, shelves, dishes, and the tablecloth. They reflect the continuity and antiquity of folk traditions.

In the conclusion, the poet nostalgically recalls the past:

I remember it all —

Snowy mountains. This beautiful life.

From a linguistic perspective, expressive imagery directs the reader’s attention to the peaceful rhythm of village life. The phrase “It brings peace to the soul” conveys the spiritual influence of nature, while “the blue light shining in a teacup” symbolizes the reflection of the sky in tea.

Faynberg’s works offer a realistic, sincere, and profound artistic expression of Uzbekistan’s life and culture. These poems not only glorify national values but also serve as a vivid example of cultural dialogue and interethnic cooperation.

Conclusion

Aleksandr Faynberg’s poem “Motherland” expresses his deep love for Uzbekistan, national values, and the beauty of simple life. Through a realistic style and personal experience, the poet enriches his works both emotionally and thematically.

This study confirms Faynberg’s contribution to Uzbek culture and highlights his role as a cultural bridge between Uzbek and Russian literature. The artistic and linguistic richness of his poems creates a poetic image of Uzbek life.

In the future, further linguistic and cultural research into Faynberg’s other works and translations may deepen understanding of his international influence and strengthen intercultural literary relations.

References:

Keldiyorova, S. J. “Aleksandr Faynberg and Uzbekistan: The Image of the Motherland in the Poet’s Poems.”

Writers’ Union of Uzbekistan. (2021). Aleksandr Faynberg: An Ode to the Draft. Tashkent: Literature.

Dinara, O. (2024). A Look at the Creative Life of Aleksandr Arkadyevich Faynberg. Modern Education and Research, 1(2), 50–52.

Jumaniyazova, L. S. (2023). Linguistic Analysis of Aleksandr Faynberg’s Poems. SCHOLAR, 1(22), 20–23.

Sevara Joraqulova is a motivated and talented student specializing in native language and literature while actively developing her English language skills. She holds a B+ level certificate in her native language and a B2 level certificate in English.

She is deeply involved in extensive research in the field of literature, studying literary works, analyzing texts, and expanding her academic knowledge. Alongside her literary studies, she consistently works on improving her English communication and academic skills.

Currently, Sevara is focused on self-development, academic excellence, and strengthening both her native language and English proficiency to achieve high results and build a successful future career in education and linguistics.