MOTHER UNDERSTAND ME

It is said that those who have the gift of procreation are granted

the divine right to be a mother.

It is said that he is a being who gives everything

To concepts where love is circular

To wakefulness, tears, joys

and with greater audacity of great courage and courage to contain

To maintain

Want unconditionally, stripping time to deposit it in you.

It is said that it comes from the Latin mater

and this becomes a significant meaning

Matrix matter, origin of life

Creation

Evolution

To endless history perpetuating the species,

Infinite energy mamma amma nutricia…

so many definitions and interpretations

and in the facts… near or far are these concepts…

Mother

Understand

That from my location of receiving desire

fervently keep yourself for yourself,

collect from life and your progeny the laughter

and this ups and downs in fruits, sweets, flowers and loves

That you offer yourself to life,

fulfill expectations and

with a rainbow of multiple colors

fly with your dreams and concrete projects

You emit sparkles, sparkles in your beautiful eyes

That you have come to spend

and introject so many lessons learning

and personal value,

limit to so much commitment and responsibility

I tell her

To the good mother

To the one that provides containment, shelter and advice,

which denotes imperfection, chaos and recomposition,

The one who deigns well to love herself,

take care of herself and protect herself

For example, model is what I want

As a mirror to frame, adore

May your days be more than a special day!

Melt into hugs, kisses

and spaces of pure rest to so much effort

Mother present,

In the sky or wherever you are

Understand me:

That I want you free

You to me

Me to you

GABRIELA PEINADO BERTALMÍO – Dr. Honoris Causa (3 doctorates) in Culture, Peace and Health. Issued by outstanding universities. •Degree in Psychology from the University of the Republic O. Of Uruguay (UdelaR) .Post-degree Cognitive Behavioral A.LA.MO.C (Latin American Association of Behavior Modification), various specializations. •Professional Coach University of Barcelona CIECC, with all specializations: labor, educational, sports, business. •Educator in Human Values, gender and labor insertion (Ministry of Education and Culture) •President for South America in Physical Culture and Sports of UNAcccc United Nations. • President for Uruguay of the Federation of International Leadership and Open Intelligence. •Member of the board of directors of the Mil Mentes International cloister. •Poet, writer, designer of national and international renown with hundreds of recognitions.

•Referent in pioneering treatment in the world PIITRASS (Translational Integral Research Psychology) with the inclusion of therapeutic laser or photo bio laser modulation. •Member of the GPW Global Peace Women International directory •Director of the Psychological Clinical Center DAARCE (Attentional Diversity in Autonomies for Behavioral Recovery and Estimate) •President for Uruguay of the Federation of Feathers and Letters of Curumaní. Participation in numerous national and international poetic anthologies. •Athlete, Ultra Marathoner of national and international renown and current. •Captain of the Sports Team Actitud Celeste. • Referent in the incorporation of psychological space in sports, • Psychologist of the Group of Athletes of Uruguay. Member of the Sports Psychology Commission of the Athletic Confederation of Uruguay (C.A.U) •Six annual podiums given in the Group of Athletes of Uruguay (A.A.U). •More than 30 podiums in national and international races. • Founding member of International Management Competence. •Director for Uruguay of CONLEAM. (Confederation of Artists and Writers of America) •Member of the ERATO Group (Uruguayan poets) •15 years in political order acting as Coordinator of technicians and emission of Edu sports projects. ~Teaching exercised: CIECC, Escuela F. Delano Roosevet, Ministry of Social Development, Ministry of Education and Culture ~Receips of international recognitions: Victoria Awards, Phoenix Awards, 2 Award the Best legislatura de Bs.As. Props, Silver Seagull, etc. 50 memorable Latin American women Querétaro Mexico Nov. 2023.

Recently, Nelson Mandela recognized the quality of World Giants in the projection of Peace and comprehensiveness, given to 12 world personalities and representing the country. Rome Antonianum University. Nov. 2024. _In overcoming and growth, we move forward together. _

A Day Out

A day out

Is not complete

Without

A place to rest my feet

Some floss for my teeth

After eating nice treats

Which I should pack in the bag

Along with some rags

To wipe the sweat

Because this heat

Is not one easily beat

And even with the largest water bottle

You can’t compete

But we need to have water

Or the day out will be a disaster

and I can’t forget the comfy shoes

so that way I don’t get bruised

if I fall on my face

because no day out should end in disgrace

or course, I can’t forget my keys and IDs

and any tickets to gain entry

because a day out is a time out

for me to relax and shout out

that I’m not working today

and my day will go by what I say

and I say it’s great to be away

to enjoy something new

Pack Mentality

you’d never tickle a prickle

or be rude to an obstinacy

you’ll shiver if you see a quiver

remove the blockade for the parade

who does transactions with a business

or asks a cry to cackle

who’d throw albumen at a yoke

or be too haughty to hunt with the pride

bet you wouldn’t dance with a rhumba

or take your illness to a fever

could you walk up the hill with a descent

or be lazy unlike a labor

willing to fly with a kettle

or wear black with a stand

maybe tether the leash

or ask the tower to lay down

you can’t quiet the sounder

or be brave with the cowardice

don’t play with the shadows

the garden hates the clouds

you can’t be blind to the gaze

or get dragged by the string

we may do better with the richness

in the parliament of fowls

1. AFTERMATH ECHOES OF DEVASTATION

& today I want to write about war.

Of a country. So, I pick a book to write.

& in this book, I saw another book trying to become a book.

a history. & this book birth six pages of beautiful calligraphy

filled with scars from the aftermath of a war—

A testament of time and memory.

1.

A baby drank the blood of his parents

when he saw a bullet pass through them.

2.

Our village men bare their chest

in boldness, handling a metal they never knew

& fell like autumn leaves. One..

Two. Three. More.

3.

 Fire rained from the sky

and thousand dropped into the ground.

4.

A boy was crying in the middle of a burnt village

that his father went to the farm,

&  his mother went to the market,

& not one of them came back home.

5.

The village chief went to the

empty field, then to the marketplace,

& to the riverside,

& the only treasure he found

is the ashes of his peoples.

6.

Every day, we blend war into our skin,

and chew its aftermath like a bitter kola.

But we never learn how to let it go

off the memory of love.

2. BROKEN PRAYERS.

It is the late hour of the moon.

Cookoo- roo-koo, a rooster crowed and

We bent our knees and watched it kiss the ground.

we knot our hands and let it it beat our hearts upward.

we shiver, the rain splash, we grit our teeth

& say words broken between lines

that thunders the earth,

& lighten  the sky.

Darkness threatened to overcome light

& we say, more words like fragment

of a broken water caged in our hearts.

Before the tattered altar,

Our soul withered away like the wind.

Away to the top of a lonely mountain,

where we bury ourselves in God’s memory.

3. PARADES OF UNSUNG THRENODIES.

Let me begin this poem like this;

A heartless song surfaces in love’s lust,

& its sour melody strikes the string of a old

zither killing the silence of  night.

Outside my window pane, under the purple light,

a lonely bird sits on a grass of reeds

& sings a song of loss; it builds a castle of grief,

A friend wrote; Life is such a greasely wound.

Let me begin this poem again.

A heartless song surface in love’s lust,

& In fields where we once played football,

like the dried leaves from a tree, many souls fell.

Some are children that got lost on their mothers back

& some are children that got lost with love’s intoxication.

A god once passed by this field, and played

a sonorous tune to the voices in the unknown.

Beautiful Writing

When I recall my distant school days, one event never leaves my memory. Our school primarily focused on subjects such as mathematics and physics, as there were more teachers for those subjects. Due to a lack of teachers for native language, literature, and history, teachers from the fields of mathematics or biology would often teach these subjects instead. Often, lessons of native language and literature were replaced with physics and mathematics classes.

One day, a native language and literature teacher arrived from a faraway village to our dear school. Although no one had seen the new teacher yet, the whole village was buzzing with talk about her. There were rumors circulating that she was “very strict,” that she would “kick any student out of class who didn’t participate,” or that she would “keep us in class until the evening.” Finally, the much-anticipated moment arrived. A teacher, who seemed to be in her early twenties or mid-twenties, entered our classroom, accompanied by the director. She had a pleasant demeanor, a good posture, and a smile on her face. The director introduced the teacher, wishing us success in the new academic year before leaving the class.

All twenty students in the class couldn’t take their eyes off the teacher. Our native language and literature teacher, with great kindness, read our names from the class journal and went through each one of us, introducing herself. Thus, our first lesson became an introductory session. Our new teacher made an effort to conduct lessons in a simpler and more engaging manner. We, the model students, believed that the subjects of native language and literature were not particularly difficult.

Soon, the lesson processes began. One day, our favorite teacher assigned us to write an essay about our favorite character. We all completed the assignment and submitted it to the teacher. During the next lesson, our teacher reviewed the essays, corrected them, and returned them to us. Almost all of us received very low grades. Our notebooks were marked with red ink, indicating that grammatical mistakes had been corrected. For some reason, many of us wrote poorly and unclearly. Whispers and noisy expressions of surprise began in the classroom. Even the top students in the class received bad grades.

One classmate, despite his poor handwriting, insisted on the importance of writing without mistakes, while others argued that the minor punctuation errors did not count as significant mistakes. Sensing the wave of discussions rising in the class, our teacher finally spoke up, as always in a calm but serious tone, “Dear students! Writing without mistakes reflects one’s literacy. Beautiful handwriting demonstrates valuable moral qualities. Writing poorly, with spelling mistakes, does not suit you. Such shortcomings must be addressed.” We all sat in silence. The lesson ended in that manner.

After the lessons, the upper-grade students scattered to their respective homes. Some were searching for something in books late at night, pondering how to write without mistakes. Others tried to emulate the elegant letters they saw in books to improve their handwriting. Meanwhile, some of us, as if pretending to be bankrupt business people or bosses who had made mistakes somewhere, watched television. Others, disregarding it, felt that this issue was not a matter of life and death. Deep down, they were agitated and embarrassed. Each of us wrestled with the question of “How could I have made so many mistakes in my writing?” It troubled our conscience to be in high school yet make so many errors. Everyone hoped that this process would pass more quickly.

Gulsora Mulikboyeva, 4th-year student of the “Life Safety in Activities” program at Samarkand State University of Architecture and Construction.

RAIN

When rain fell before, we’d sing with delight,
But now when it rains, we feel lost in the night.
The streets turn to mud, and we stay inside,
Bored through the day, with nowhere to hide.
Oh, rain in your shower, please cease your parade,
Let joy return back, let the sun’s warmth invade. 

Sodiqova Adolatxon

Hamid Olimjon and Zulfiya Creative school

« Nos cœurs sont pleins de printemps, vivre est une prière que seul l’union des hommes peut exaucer » Rachida Belkacem                                            

“Our hearts are full of spring, living is a prayer fulfilled only through men’s union”

« Le ciel n’est pas sans mémoire, nos vies l’emplissent de notre courage intense et notre humanité. »Rachida Belkacem.                                                     

“The sky is not without memories, our lives fill it with intense courage and humanity”

« Tu naquis le jour de mon crépuscule, 

La lueur éclairant mon chemin,

Me tendant la main,

Faisant éclore d’un geste les fleurs, 

Transformant chaque combat,

Par ta présence épurant le monde,

Le transformant en bénédiction divine »

“You are born the day of my dusk,

The light shining on my path,

Handing me your hand,

Making flowers blossom with a gesture,

Transforming every combat,

Purifying the world through your presence

And transforming it to a divine blessing

Les secrets de l’appartenance

Certains regards ne sont pas d’aujourd’hui,
Ils reflètent un ailleurs lointain,
Une histoire,
Une vision portant les âmes de nos ancêtres,
Certains sont plus puissants que d’autres,
Plus souverains, 
Ce sont des guides,
Que les hommes appellent suppléments d’âme.
Ce regard est libre, s’affranchit des exigences de l’instant.
Témoin de nos amnésies diurnes.      

The secrets of belonging

Some looks are not from today,
They reflect a distant elsewhere,
A history,
A vision carrying the souls of our ancestors,
Some are more powerful than others,
More sovereign,
They are guides,
That men call soul supplements.
This look is free, frees itself from the demands of the moment.
Witness to our diurnal amnesias.
       

Sonorités intérieures

J’ai caché des fleurs dans tes silences,
Ton absence me murmure intensément : rien ne dure,
Tout continue d’exister,
Il su’it d’apprendre à voir,
Je me laisse envahir par les notes de ta voix,
Un murmure fragile, chargé de vérité,
Hypnotique et onirique,
J’y crois. 
Je n’ai pas le choix,
Je te porte en moi, 
J’ai caché des fleurs dans tous les silences, 
Elles me parlent d’éternité dans l’éphémère.
Je n’ai pas le choix,          
J’y crois.

  

Inner sounds

I have hidden flowers in your silences,
Your absence whispers to me intensely: nothing lasts,
Everything continues to exist,
It is enough to learn to see,
I let myself be invaded by the notes of your voice,
A fragile whisper, full of truth,
Hypnotic and dreamlike,
I believe in it.
I have no choice,
I carry you within me,
I have hidden flowers in all the silences,
They speak to me of eternity in the ephemeral.
I have no choice,
I believe in it.

I was born in Hauts-de-France, live in Ile-de-France, graduated in occupational health from the University of Paris-Est Créteil.
I have been involved in the world of culture in France and Morocco for several years.

A former radio columnist, I was decorated with the High Badges of the Divine Academy in Paris in 2018 and in 2021 with the title of Grand Ambassador of Culture and the Arts for my investment in the field of international culture.
In 2020, I had the pleasure of being a member of the jury for the literary prize “D’ailleurs et d’ici” when it was created by Marc Cheb Sun.

My first novel “La révolte des secrets” was published in January 2020.
I collaborated on the book “Morocco de quoi ont-nous peur” under the direction of Abdelhak Najib and Noureddine Bousefiha Editions Orion.
True to my dual French and Moroccan culture, I was chosen and featured in the art book “Le temps des femmes libres” by Abdelhak Najib alongside 150 committed and inspiring women in Morocco and the diaspora. A book dedicated to women, to all Moroccan women who have marked their time, women who distinguish themselves through their journeys and their paths in life.

In 2021, I published in France a collection of poetry “Phronésis” Editions Mindset, (Illustrations Ilham Laraki Omari painter). It has been available on the mindset, Amazon, Fnac websites and in all bookstores in France since July 2021.
In 2022, I also participated in the international literature event in January, a literature festival where life meets literature: “Panorama International Literature Festival 2022” representing France.
I also participated in the Paris-France event, placed under the theme “Morocco, land of cultures and arts” at the Fondation Maison du Maroc – FMDM as an author and speaker.

I had the privilege of exhibiting and signing my books at the famous and prestigious Carrousel du Louvre in Paris in April 2022 with Divine Académie.
On October 8, 2023, I received the literary prize “Coup de cœur” at the book fair in the city of Soissons in France for my collection of poetry “Phronesis”. A fair paying tribute to women and writing.”
This literary journey led me to be appointed President of the René Depestre literary prize in 2023 for Editions Milot and the Adventus Nova association in Paris, a prize to pay tribute to the illustrious writer René Depestre whose work remains a source of light. A unique international prize allowing authors from all continents visibility and spotlighting. The strength of this prize is to bring an audience together with a work, regardless of the country.

A commitment with an international dimension that honors me.
In 2024, I preface and participate in the collective work Poésie: Luttes et Combats published by Milot, a collective work under the direction of Amar Benhamouche, a reflection by authors of different sensibilities on the place of poetry today and tomorrow.
Finally, I participated in several book signing sessions with readings and spoke at numerous conferences in France and abroad.
I remain on humanist themes with an attraction to nature, women, and their connection to the world.