Scarf
Do not be scared of me
I’m not an alien
Coming from space
Hiding its horrible sensors
Under its hood
I am not here to attack you
No
Don’t be scared
I am not a female spider
Hiding in her web
Trying to wrap your body with my silken thread
I am not a barbaric woman
Just dancing on the drums of death
I am a woman like you
Smiling like you
walking on my feet like you
crying, laughing, dreaming and singing like you
The difference between us is
in the war I lost so many…
It’s a scarf
My scarf
See it, touch it, feel it
Do not let it cover your mind
From seeing the real truth
Faleeha Hassan is a poet, teacher, editor, writer, and playwright born in Najaf, Iraq, in 1967, who now lives in the United States. Faleeha was the first woman to write poetry for children in Iraq.
She received her master's degree in Arabic literature, and has now published 26 books, her poems have been translated into English, Turkmen, Bosnian, Indian, French, Italian, German, Kurdish, Spain, Korean, Greek, Serbia, Albanian, Pakistani, Romanian, Malayalam, Chinese, ODIA, Nepali and Macedonian language. She is a Pulitzer Prize Nominee for 2018, and a Pushcart Prize Nominee for 2019.
She's a member of the International Writers and Artists Association.
Winner of the Women of Excellence Inspiration award from SJ magazine 2020, and the Winner of the Grand Jury Award (the Sahitto International Award for Literature 2021). She served on the Women of Excellence selection committees for 2023, was a winner of a Women In The Arts award in 2023 and a Member of Who's Who in America 2023. She's on the Sahitto Award's judging panel for 2023 and a cultural ambassador between Iraq and the US.
Violin
When I was a child, I only wanted to be a doctor when I grew up and heal people.
Today, I was sitting in front of the window in desperation, I needed a doctor myself. My eyes are weak, I could not see the beauty of nature. I had only one dream in my heart – to heal people. At that moment I remembered that my father had a violin in an old chest. A few years ago, he taught me how to play the violin.
For some reason I never played it. As soon as I opened the window, the outside world was blowing cool. As I played the violin, the birds stopped chirping, the noise of the street was instantly silenced. My heart seemed to be filled with light.
Out of joy, I made it a habit to play the violin every day. The gentle melody that came out of it soothed the wounds of my heart. Every day, my violin lovers would gather in front of my window and listen to music. Then I realized that if we sincerely intend and strive for it, Allah will deliver everything.
Doctors can heal people, but God gave me the happiness of healing their hearts. Music heals and comforts the human soul. My father’s words: «Weakness should be turned into strength» came to mind today. I turned this weakness into strength and achieved my childhood dream. Now, every day, the audience called me the number one violinist.
Nosirova Gavhar was born on August 16, 2000 in the city of Shahrisabz, Kashkadarya region of Uzbekistan. Today, she is a third-year student of the Faculty of Philology of the Samarkand State University of Uzbekistan. Being a lover of literature, she is engaged in writing stories and poems. Her creative works have been published in Uzbek and English. In addition, she is a member of «All India Council for Development of Technical Skills», «Juntosporlasletras» of Argentina, «2DSA Global Community». Winner of the «Korablznaniy» and «TalentyRossii» contests, holder of the international C1 level in the Russian language, Global Education ambassador of Wisdom University and global
coordinator of the Iqra Foundation in Uzbekistan. «Magic pen holders» talented young group of Uzbekistan, «KayvaKishor», «Friendship of people», «Raven Cage», «The Daily Global Nation», Argentina's «Multi Art-6», Kenya’s «Serenity: A compilation of art and literature by women» contains creative works in the magazine and anthology of poets and writers.
Time
Time ticks on, a constant beat,
Days and nights in a rhythmic sweep.
Moments pass, both fast and slow,
As we watch our lives unfold and grow.
Seconds tick, hours run,
Life moves on, one by one.
In each breath, every rhyme,
We feel the touch of time.
Wazed Abdullah is a student of grade nine in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
Echoes of Ravenswood
Part 2: The Descent
The friends landed with a thud, their flashlights flickering as they hit the ground. Groaning, they picked themselves up, realizing they had fallen through a trapdoor into a hidden basement. The air was damp and musty, the faint sound of dripping water echoing through the darkness.
"Is everyone okay?" Jake asked, his voice echoing slightly.
"Yeah, I think so," David replied, rubbing his sore shoulder. "Where are we?"
Emily shone her flashlight around, revealing a narrow corridor lined with old, rusted pipes and crumbling brick walls. The atmosphere was even more oppressive down here, the weight of the earth above them adding to their growing sense of dread.
"We need to find a way out of here," Sarah said, her voice trembling.
They began to move cautiously down the corridor, their footsteps echoing eerily. The whispering voices seemed to have followed them, growing louder and more insistent. It was as if the walls themselves were alive, watching and waiting.
As they turned a corner, they came upon a series of doors. Each was marked with strange symbols and covered in a thick layer of dust. The friends exchanged uneasy glances, the sense of foreboding growing stronger.
"Should we open one?" Emily asked hesitantly.
"Do we have a choice?" Jake replied. "We need to find a way out, and this might be our only option."
They chose a door at random, Jake turning the handle slowly. The door creaked open, revealing a small room filled with old, rotting furniture and stacks of yellowed papers. In the center of the room was a large, ornate mirror, its surface tarnished and cracked.
Emily approached the mirror, her curiosity getting the better of her. As she wiped away the grime, she gasped. The reflection showed not just their group, but also shadowy figures standing behind them, their faces twisted in expressions of agony.
"Guys, look at this," she whispered, her voice shaking.
The others gathered around, their faces pale as they saw the ghostly figures in the mirror. Suddenly, one of the figures moved, its hand reaching out towards Emily. She stumbled back, her heart racing.
"We need to get out of here, now," David said, his voice urgent.
They backed out of the room, closing the door behind them. The whispering voices grew louder, now accompanied by faint, ghostly laughter. Panic began to set in as they hurried down the corridor, desperate to find an exit.
After what felt like hours, they came upon a set of stairs leading upwards. Relief washed over them as they climbed the steps, hoping to find a way back to the surface. However, as they reached the top, they found themselves in a large, circular chamber.
The chamber was lined with ancient, decaying bookshelves, and in the center stood a stone altar covered in strange, ritualistic markings. The air was thick with the scent of old, damp paper and something else, something metallic.
"Where are we?" Sarah asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Before anyone could answer, the door behind them slammed shut, and the room was plunged into darkness. The friends huddled together, their flashlights casting eerie shadows on the walls.
Suddenly, the altar began to glow with a faint, otherworldly light. The markings seemed to come alive, writhing and shifting like living things. The ghostly laughter grew louder, echoing through the chamber.
"We need to destroy whatever this is," Jake said, his voice filled with determination.
They approached the altar, their flashlights flickering as if the very air was trying to extinguish them. David picked up a heavy book from one of the shelves, intending to use it to smash the altar. As he lifted it, the room seemed to pulse with energy.
Just as he was about to strike, a figure appeared before them. It was a woman, her face pale and her eyes filled with sorrow. She seemed to be made of mist, her form shifting and shimmering in the faint light.
"Please, help us," she whispered, her voice filled with despair.
The friends froze, unsure of what to do. The woman reached out a hand, and they could see the marks of chains on her wrists. She seemed to be pleading with them, her eyes filled with a desperate need.
"Who are you?" Emily asked, her voice trembling.
"We are the lost souls of the Blackburn Mansion," the woman replied. "We were trapped here by a curse, bound to this place for eternity. Only you can set us free."
"How?" Jake asked, his voice filled with a mix of fear and determination.
"Destroy the altar," the woman said. "It is the source of the curse. Break it, and we will be released."
With a determined nod, David brought the book down on the altar with all his strength. The room seemed to explode with light, the air filled with a deafening roar. The friends were thrown back, their flashlights clattering to the ground.
When the light finally faded and the roar subsided, the friends found themselves lying on the cold stone floor. They groaned and slowly sat up, their heads spinning. The room was now eerily silent, the oppressive atmosphere lifted.
"Is everyone okay?" Jake asked, helping Emily.
Nahyean Taronno is a student of grade eight in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
My Birthday Party
Birthday is a memorable day in one's life. This is the day when a person was born. Children around the world celebrate the day in different ways. My birthday is in March. Every year, I celebrate the with my friends. My parents ask my friends to come to our home and have a party. My parents decorate the house nicely. My father orders birthday cake. My mother usually buys me a new dress. In the afternoon my friends come. They bring gifts for me.
The cake is placed on a large table. Candles are placed on the cake. When the programme begins, my friends stand around the table. I blow the candles and cut the cake. My friends sing the birthday song and wish me. On this occasion, my mother 36, prepares delicious dishes. We enjoy the food. We have a lot of fun. My birthday is one of the memorable day for me.
Md. Rizwan Islam (Talha) is a student of grade six in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
The Life of a Praying Mantis: Nature's Stealthy Predator
The praying mantis, an intriguing insect named for its prayer-like posture, has a life cycle that showcases the marvels of nature. Here's an in-depth look into its journey from egg to adult.
Egg Stage:
A praying mantis's life begins inside an ootheca, a frothy mass created by the female to safeguard her eggs. The ootheca hardens, providing a secure environment for the developing embryos. Depending on environmental conditions, the eggs hatch within weeks to months.
Nymph Stage:
Upon hatching, mantis nymphs resemble miniature adults but lack wings and reproductive organs. From the start, they are voracious predators, hunting small insects. They go through several molts, shedding their exoskeletons as they grow larger.
Adult Stage:
The final molt marks the transition to adulthood, during which the mantis gains wings and reproductive capability. Adult mantises are solitary and skilled hunters, using their excellent camouflage and swift reflexes to catch prey with their raptorial forelegs.
Reproduction:
The mating process is notable for the potential cannibalistic behavior of the female, who may consume the male after or during copulation, providing her with additional nutrients for egg production.
Ecological Role:
Praying mantises are vital in ecosystems, controlling insect populations and serving as prey for larger animals. They are valued in gardens for their role in natural pest control.
Conservation:
Though not endangered, mantises face threats from habitat loss and pesticide use. Conservation efforts focus on preserving natural habitats and reducing chemical use.
Conclusion:
The life of a praying mantis is a testament to adaptability and survival. From egg to adult, each stage reveals the mantis's role in maintaining ecological balance. Their presence in nature reminds us of the intricate beauty and complexity of the natural world.
Md. Naeem Aziz is a Bangladeshi Author, Writer, Poet, Engineer and Photographer. He is best known for his writings and photography. He was born on 10th December 1998. He is from Dhaka, Bangladesh.
Uzbekistan, Uzbek
XXI century. After ages, times, centuries, we have reached these days. Mir Alisher Navoi, who recognized that world, "we are living in the age of mirror worlds, self-moving iron slaps brought by Farhad and Shirin. If we don't leave the house for a day, we feel as if we are not aware of the news happening in the whole world. Yes, because every day, every hour there is news, research, discoveries in some corner of the Earth. Today's demand is to keep pace with the world.
Indeed, the future of the country is in the hands of the young generation. Of course, there are no young people in our country who can introduce our country to the world. As a proof of my word, let's take Javahir Sindorovov. He is a chess master despite his young age. He grew up with chess from a young age. He is learning the secrets of chess and taking the milestones.
As a clear proof of this, let's remember the great success of the past year 2022. At the international chess competition held in India, five players from Uzbekistan won the highest positions and bravely defended the flag of our country. The President congratulated them on their victory by phone. Javahir Sindorov was among them, of course. We have many such young people. They are all worth being proud of. Another one of our youth, eighteen-year-old Parviz Tuksanov. He scored 8.5 points in the international assessment system of English language proficiency and managed to set a record among the youth of Uzbekistan by scoring 1560 points in the SAT exam. It will make your heart happy to hear such news! For information, the SAT exam is also one of the international exams. He is one of our young people. As long as we have such young people, Uzbekistan will never stop developing.
I envied my compatriots, got the best result in such exams, and intended to make my contribution to the development of our country, even if it is small.
Such achievements are, of course, a clear proof that the head of state pays close attention to the education system. Our President, who took the words "attention to education, attention to the future" as his motto, is making a lot of educational investments and innovations for our youth.
All these efforts are our future for the generation! Not only education, but also other fields are developing in our country. Examples of these are sports, art, and medicine. There is a wonderful saying in our people that "Nothing can make a country famous for sports". Our athletes are as usual
We have no choice but to admit that they are raising the national flag to blue.
In fact, at the root of all this is education, manners, concepts. There is a famous saying of Abdulla Awlani, one of our Jadids who made a significant contribution to the development of our nation. Let me quote below with your permission: "Education for us is a matter of life or death, salvation or destruction, or happiness or disaster." In our country, if you see a person with a smiling face and two hands on his chest, believe me, that person is an Uzbek! You say, the reason is that our grandparents and parents taught us this. By the way, drink green tea!
Aziza Karimjonova Sherzodovna was born in 2008. Now, she is 16 years old and 10th grade at Is'hakhan Ibrat creativity school. She can freely speak in English, Russian, and Korean languages. Her stories were published in many foreign journals.
